The day the cup came home

A billion dreams.

28 years of yearning.

And then, the cup came home.

The first two lines are advertising copy. But surprisingly for once, the third one came true and after having failed to live up to its potential (real and hyped) time and again, the Indian cricket team displayed the skills, focus and the cojones to win the games that counted.

And thus, the cup (the World Cup of Cricket!!) came home. Bringing with it joys, celebrations and euphoria for millions -- cricket purists, jingoists and rednecks masquerading as lovers of cricket and those who don't know nothing about cricket.

In other words, the cup has given almost every Indian a reason to smile about, and that (in itself) is something to be happy about. Especially these days when we as a country have so less to celebrate and have almost no "real" heroes, have no one who we can look up and believe in.

Because, essentially that's what a fan is all about -- the belief. Though there are extremes here like elsewhere in life and on the one hand you have the jingoists and rednecks for whom a cricket match is just another platform to let loose and be a nuisance and on the other you have the technically and statistically minded for whom such matches are just another opportunity to show off their superior knowledge.

Because, essentially that's what a fan is all about -- the belief. That uplifts and leads to a single-minded focus on the game and keeps so many vexations and problems at bay, keeps cynicism at bay...

When India first won the world cup, I was barely 10 and from what I remember, I don't remember much about it; apart from some cricket related questions in General Knowledge at school and a spike in the interest for cricket (was it then that I started playing cricket more than Gilli Danda?) the event did not cause too many ripples in my secludedly bucolic childhood.

Apart from the fact that I was 9 years and something, there were two other reasons for this; one -- we didn't have TV at home, two -- we did not have a computer either (and there was no Cricinfo, anyway)...

I know, all the three factoids above are a bit hard to believe, but yes, they are true.

This time around, it was different and I left work early, scorched my feet on the afternoon sun-baked road, and got home with more than one prayer on my lips. And then the prayers continued (through most of the India innings) till we won the match, as I had believed we will.

And, then the cup came home.

P.S.-- Speaking of cricinfo, there's this lovely article on cricket by Wright Thomson. I found parts of it quaint and I am wondering how he communicated so well with the cab driver and his sons and I am sure this is the first such article on cricket in India with so many Americanisms but I guess he puts thing perfectly with the title itself -- In Tendulkar country