Life lessons from the T20 World Cup: A cricket enthusiast’s journey

BENGALURU: I have been following cricket for three decades now. I don’t mean tracking the scores and knowing players’ names. I mean the kind where a loss made me cry, while people around me laughed. While reading fairy tales, I’d wish that I joined the Indian team. One of the first memories of my life is of my father watching cricket on our small black and white TV, while listening to the commentary on radio. The saddest moment of my life was when my cricket bat was given away by my family to the kids on the street.

As I grew up and turned into a writer/comedian, cricket was an integral part of my body of work. I performed India’s first cricket-themed standup comedy show, and constantly wrote about cricket – including in this column. A few weeks before this World Cup began, I was on a podcast and spoke about India’s chances. As usual, I was being ‘Harsh’ Bhogle; talking about how we had gone with a ‘safe’ team.

That safe teams don’t win tournaments. Of course, deep within my journalistic façade, I was hiding years of disappointment. The truth is, as non-sportspersons, we don’t appreciate how much of a role luck plays in sport. An injury here, a change in weather there – and we jump into tags like ‘chokers’. But the World Cup taught me a few important life lessons.

Cricketers know what they are doing. They have been playing for decades, and understand their games better than the entire nation, and the National Planning Commission put together. I learnt this first hand, after covering the entire IPL live. Take Rohit Sharma, for example. All through the IPL, he was getting out playing attacking cricket.

People who walked home with the bat after they got out commented on his temperament. But that style of batting won us the World Cup. Virat Kohli played the sheet anchor role through the World Cup, and got flak from every Ramesh, Suresh, and Raju. His sheet-anchor innings got us to a respectable total in the final.

Or Hardik Pandya – the most hated man in the country last month. Every performance was scrutinised, and you’d think he had sold India’s nuclear secrets to Libya! And yet, he bowled the last over in every match – exactly what he did in the final. Or Rahul Dravid. The only one among the galaxy of ’90s cricket stars who was never a part of a major trophy win. Who was called a ‘defensive’ coach because he had great defence as a batsman. Exactly the kind of dumb thoughts he’d block out all day on a summer afternoon in Lord’s.

We love to analyse cricket, not truly follow it. We are the land of astrology, palmistry, and Adi Shankara’s philosophical debates. Which must be the reason we turn our sport into a TV debate. There’s a tiny detail I left out in the memory of my father. While watching the match, I was asking him if each of the players (Ravi Shastri, Manjrekar, Tendulkar) were good players! I realised that I have been judging them all my life. I also realised that we will never get over cricket.

When Dhoni lifted the T20 World Cup in 2008, I was a youngster who knew nothing about anything, but pretended I knew something about everything. I watched as Sachin left, and then Dhoni. And yet, here I am. In a decade, I’d probably be writing about Rishabh Pant’s retirement. The final lesson was that it is okay that Indians only follow only one sport. It is better than say, Vatican City, which doesn’t support any sport at all. One must take what one gets.

(The writer’s views are personal)