Brilliance.

I sometimes feel out of place in cricket discussions: the upstart, the young girl who's followed cricket for barely nine years, the fangirl who hero-worships Dhoni like some people hero-worship Tendulkar. They speak of several years of supporting a faltering Indian team, watching it slump and then grow and then slump again; they talk of the choking emotion in watching it move from triumph to triumph after the turn of the century. Their heroes are slowly going out, one by one, except for that one man who's been a constant fixture in Indian cricket for more than 2 decades. They talk of the '83 World Cup victory with unbridled nostalgia; in '83 my parents were still five years away from even meeting each other for the first time. This World Cup win, then, is special for them in so many ways - ways that are scattered across cyberspace, freely - but for me?

My affair with cricket started with the 2003 World Cup, when I was a giggly 12 year old who barely knew the difference between 'leg side' and 'off side'. My grandmother was - and is - the original cricket buff in the family. She religiously watches every single match that India plays - and as many other cricket matches as she can - and her enthusiasm as the '03 Cup approached rubbed off on me, more than any amount of media hype. I remember studiously cutting out the colourful World Cup match schedule from the backpage of The Hindu, laminating it, and then checking it every morning to see what match was on that day. Much of my emotional investment in the game today comes from my memories of that tournament. I whooped and I cheered and I cried. I pestered my Dad with all sorts of cricketing questions. I remember enjoying listening to Sanjay Manjrekar and Rameez Raja commentating together. I remember giggling at all the jabs at Mandira Bedi. I remember the Tarot card reading before the Ind v Kenya semifinal. I bought an India jersey just before the final and sat in front of the TV, hoping, hoping, praying. Of course, the team flopped at the final stage, but long before Tendulkar fell, Ponting blitzed an amazing century and I think we'd all come to accept that India wasn't winning this one. But hey, we said, we reached the final. That's pretty damn good, right?

At that time, it was. I religiously followed the Indian team after that. There were periods - most of 2006 - where cricket was the last thing on my mind, but for the most part, I followed the team that I believed would do it, would do it next time. I acquired a working knowledge, played backyard cricket with my brother, devoured as many cricket-related articles as I could.

In 2007, I was the hormone-ridden 16 year old who believed "Dhoni's going to win the World Cup for us this time." I was in the throes of a crush on the man, what can I say? Those dreams, of course, came crashing down pretty quickly, but it was nice while it lasted. I had a copy of the World Cup schedule - this time, it was an already-laminated copy that came free with some magazine or the other - under my pillow, so when I woke up, the first thing I'd do was check the day's match.

One of the things I remember best about the run-up to the tournament was our ability to fool ourselves. Not all was well with the team - the unceremonious ousting of Sourav Ganguly, Chappell being an unpopular coach and media-handler and PR... well, just unpopular in general, home series losses to Australia and Pakistan, a godawful tour of South Africa, where we lost everything except that Test win in Jo'burg and our first-ever Twenty20 - but we won a couple of hastily-arranged bilaterals at home against SL and WI, which of course, assured us that we could still make a fist of things. It wasn't to be, and like the '03 final, we'd (or I'd, anyway) forgiven the Indian team long before the final wickets fell against SL and Rahul Dravid's tears broke my heart. I remember feeling a kind of malicious glee as reports came in about a tournament that was poorly organised and poorly attended, a tournament that had its final end with one of the most pointless and farcical finishes in the history of the game. After all, how can a tournament that had neither India nor Pakistan even make it to the second round ever be popular? But still I told myself: we would do it, we would do it next time.

That debacle prompted me to up my cricket obsession by several levels. I followed the exploits of the team more intensely than ever before. If you ask me, I can tell you anything you want to know about India's matches in between May 2007 to December 2008. Anything. I can even quote some of the scorecards. "Religious" didn't even begin to cover it. We were beginning to lift ourselves after that disaster, and I didn't want to miss a moment. A Test series win in England, a curious, good-now, bad-now, good-again sort of 3-4 loss to Eng in the ODIs (characterised by the most atrocious fielding I have seen from the Indians ever), and then: the inaugural Twenty20 WC.

Hah, that tournament. Full of dizzy highs. The thing that I found remarkable about that tournament - more than Yuvraj's six sixes, or Irfan Pathan's performance, or RP Singh's magic with the new ball, or even Rohit Sharma's emergence - was something that happened during our tie in our first match against Pakistan, and that ridiculous(ly awesome) bowl-out we had to decide the winner. Malik had no clue what was going on; he just picked five bowlers who'd bowled the best that day, and that included the likes of Umar Gul and Asif. Dhoni? Dhoni picked Sehwag, Harbhajan and Robin Uthappa, who'd never bowled an international ball in his life, much to everybody's astonishment. Result? India win that 3-0.

Why? everybody asked Dhoni. What was the rationale? And Dhoni said: they'd been preparing for just such a scenario. The squad had divided itself into 4 groups, and during practice sessions, they would have bowl-out tournaments. So, it was easy, he said. He just picked whoever had the best record in those little tournaments. In fact, he said, Rohit Sharma, who was not in the XI in that game, had a 100% record.

That, for me, was mind-boggling. Here was a guy, just appointed captain of the team, playing a tournament in a format of the game that was still in its infancy, coming into it just days after a long, draining tour of England, with no senior players, having played just one Twenty20 till that moment, no practice matches, no coach... and he was so goddamn prepared. He was at the top of his game, he had every base covered, right from match one of his captaincy. This was a keeper, I thought, and I didn't mean his role in the side. I hoped it was a portent for great things to come.

We would do it next time. Next time.

I watched this team with a sort of open-mouthed fascination over the next year or so. The superbly entertaining, if controversial -- oh, who am I kidding, it was that entertaining because it was so controversial -- Australian tour, the CB series of awesomeness, IPL, the Asia Cup, the Mendis menace and the SL tour, the Border Gavaskar trophy, Ganguly and Kumble's retirement, the captaincy going over to Dhoni completely, the whitewash of England in the ODIs and then that magnificent Test win at Chennai-- 2008 was a fab year, and I loved every moment, cherished them. I became more involved with cricket online -- I joined various forums, I'd check out cricinfo at least once every day, I started reading blogs, and late '08, I finally created one of my own.

'09 and '10 were what I like to consider the sobering years. I didn't follow cricket as closely as I moved to my college hostel which has no TV (it's an evil hostel, I know) but I made up for it with online commentary. One of my favourite memories was listening to Sachin Tendulkar score his ODI 200 on radio a year and half ago. A long lazy afternoon, but I was sitting in front of my radio, super-tense and practically vibrating with excitement. And when Sachin hit his 200th run? I ran out into the empty corridors - everybody else was either sleeping or reading or lazing about - screaming. I knocked at doors, screamed "Sachin scored a double-century!" and hugged everybody in sight, friend or enemy.

But yeah. Those two years gave us a better idea of what this Indian team was settling into. There was failure now, interspersed with success, and people were finally beginning to realise Dhoni was human (about time!) but not dealing with it very well (which sucked). We are a lot with our heads up our asses a lot of the time - the sense of entitlement we possess is staggering, and I do not consider myself an exception. But I love this team, and I understood they had to grow on their own terms. I ranted and raved when I could, and I defended them fiercely. We can still do it, was my constant refrain.

So. This World Cup arrived. My gut feeling was India's going to win this. I told my friends until their ears had fallen off: there can't be a better opportunity for India than this. We are perfectly placed. If we don't win this, then we don't ever deserve to win the World Cup.

My previous post elaborated my feelings on India's journey in this World Cup: I felt like they were saving their best for the last. We would do it, we would do it, I chanted. And how--!

The first striking thing was the fielding. My jaw dropped open! So quick, so fast, so dedicated! Not even in the T20 WC '07 did I remember them being this sharp. Yuvraj, throwing himself around and saving boundaries like a friggin' Superman on steroids! Raina! Kohli! Gambhir! Sreesanth, Zaheer, flinging themselves near the boundary rope! My house did not have current supply for exactly the period between the 44th over and the end of the Sri Lankan innings, and apparently that was the time the Indian plans came apart. Just as well for my blood pressure that I didn't see that, then. But still -- to come out with this kind of a mindset with a billion people breathing down their necks... my heart burgeoned with fresh admiration.

The prospect of chasing 275 was an interesting one. My grandmother had given up. It's Sri Lanka's day today, she said, with a shrug of her shoulders, All fate. What can we do? But I told her to just wait and see. Unlike a lot of the fans out there, I've seen this team slug it out a lot more times than I've seen it roll over in the mud.We would do this. We would do this. We ARE doing this.

Sehwag goes first thing, but I pushed down my trepidation, swallowed it like it was a particularly large chunk of bitter medicine, and thought: Okay, Sachin. Here you go.

Here's the funny thing about Sachin Tendulkar. He has played so many matches and played with so many generations, I bet he has enough to material to fill half-a-dozen very interesting books. He also means different things to different generations. To my generation, he's the Established Hero. We were what? 7, 8 years old when he played some of his most memorable innings? Hell, I was born a whole year after he made his debut. A lot of my contemporaries idolise him, of course. But for me, he's the kind of guy who you just have to admire, but not hero-worship. I can't. I'm baffled at the Tendulkar-devotion. Maybe I didn't live his greatness; after all, when I was starting to really get into cricket, he was struggling with his tennis elbow and run of poor form. So, no. Tendulkar is not god, at least for me.

But last night? I might've thought just that.

However, he was out, and it was upto the Unscarred Generation to get us through. I like Kohli. He has attitude - shit happens is just a few notches below we are performers at a circus for my favourite candid comment from a cricketer - and he has the ability. With experience, he can be a future leader. And Gambhir. With his advances down the pitch like a rampaging anaemic bull with ADD. He was brilliant, but it was upsetting that he threw it all away on 97. More than his century, I raged, he's allowed Sri Lanka a window of opportunity. But then Yuvraj came to join Dhoni, and I sat in my living room with my grandmother - nobody else, just the two of us, sweating because neither of us dared to get up and switch on the fan lest another wicket fell - and we hoped and prayed and watched.

What can I say about Dhoni? For me, one of the sour points of this tournament was that Dhoni'd had a very average tourney with the bat. It nagged me like a particularly persistent insect at the back of my brain. But I told myself he'll come through when it matters. It seemed like a selfish thing to wish for, that Dhoni get in and play big, match-winning innings, that I rarely discussed it with anybody else. But the hope lived on in my heart.

He delivered better than I ever thought he would in the final.

To cope with all those expectations, in anticipation of the massive backlash he'd receive for his selection decisions and strategic moves if he failed, to deal with humidity and noise and chronic back pain - at one point, he looked scarily like he couldn't move another inch - to do all this with the poise and grace that has become uniquely his - no amount of 'ice' and 'cool' metaphors can do justice, sorry - and hit the winning runs with that trademark shot for six (how many times has he finished off a chase with a six for us in his career?)... wow. I salute you, Mahi. It's not like I needed another reason to hero-worship you, but you were brilliant.

Brilliance. That's all I can say. Like a thousand brightly burning suns.

I screamed during the winning moment. Not for long, though. Not even as much as I screamed for our win over Pakistan. After that, I hugged my grandmother and sat down and watched the celebrations and heard the fireworks and grinned and grinned like my face would split open. And the only thought in my head was:

We did it. We did it, this time.

A Measured Post

Now that I've given myself enough time to recover from the India-Pakistan encounter, I think I can manage a decent-enough post building up to tomorrow's final. Or manage some level of coherency at any rate. In case you do want my reaction, which involved much CAPSLOCK and fangirling, you can check it out here.

Now. Tomorrow, India v Sri Lanka for the ultimate glory in the cricketing world: the world cup. I think it kinda fits, you know? Over the last three years, if there's been one constant, it's been: there's an India v Sri Lanka match 'round the corner. Right from the Asia Cup in 2008 - or is it even before? Our history goes way back, but I'll start with 2007.

In early '07, we played a four match bilateral with SL in India before the World Cup, which we won 3-1. We kicked their asses, I remember. However, it was SL that broke a billion hearts when we lost to them and crashed unceremoniously out of the '07 WC. Then the Asia Cup in '08, where we were on a high, rebuilding and recovering, just having beat the World Champions in their own freakin' backyard and destroying the Lankans on the way. We had a completely in-form, frighteningly awesome line-up. And yet in the final? We crumbled to Mendis' carrom-ball. Score to SL.

The Mendis nightmare continued as we toured them later that year. He bamboozled the likes of Dravid and Laxman and Ganguly as SL cruised to a Test series win. However, we came back and won the ODI series 3-2. I don't think it's possible ever to underestimate how important this win was. Almost as big as the CB series win. For me, this is where the Indian team began to show that it had the guts for a right royal scrap. This was as much a defining moment in recent Indian cricketing history as any other.

Then. Another ODI bilateral in early '09, 4-1 to India. SL touring India later that year, Tests and ODIs, both going to India. Then we tour them in '10, drawing the Tests and winning the ODIs.

In between. Five tournament finals: Asia Cup '08 (SL), Compaq Cup 'o9 (Ind), tri-series final in Bangladesh '10 (SL), Asia Cup '10 (Ind), the Micromax tri-series with New Zealand '10 (SL).

That's a lot of cricket in less than three years. I remember a lot of exasperation everytime yet another series was announced, and I even wrote a parody-piece about it. And to think that the biggest tournament in cricket also culminates in an India-Sri Lanka final? Is it the same old yet another, yet another? Can we expect things to be different this time? Especially when these teams know each other inside-out?

Let's have a look at SL's performances leading up to the finals. Well. I don't remember much of SL's matches this tournament, because they've been so efficient. I honestly can't remember a goddamn thing from their group matches, except their middle order had a funny propensity to make life tough for them. Huge wins against Kenya, Canada... a loss to Pakistan, I remember, their only aberration... a washed-out match against the Aussies... then? A win against New Zealand, I think? And Zimbabwe? I honestly can't remember without looking it up, because their campaign has been so unremarkable. Most of their plans have worked, and worked well.

Clinical wins against England and New Zealand in the quarters and semis, and you have to say Sri Lanka have peaked, yeah?

That's the funny thing. I can point out a particular stage in the tournament where each team has peaked, and say, "yep. That's about as good as they can get." Sri Lanka are in that stage right now. Dilshan on song, Sangakkara and Jayawardene in form, Malinga, Murali (if fit), Herath/Randiv/Mendis... everybody chipping in. Rosy picture? I think so.

But what's funny about it, you ask? Well, the only team that hasn't reached this 'peak' stage is India. In every match you get the feeling India is performing sub-optimally, doing just enough to get the job done. Our first match against Bangladesh is probably the closest we've gotten to playing to our potential. Is that scarily awesome, or scarily worrying? I don't know. But that we've gotten all the way to the final despite not being at our best adds some credence to India's apparent strategy of saving their best for the last. Maybe they don't want to get burnt-out before the Big One. God knows we've done that before.

A fairly comfortable win against Bangladesh, a hair-rending tie with England, wins against Ireland and Netherland, both games in which we made our chases a little complicated because of overconfidence at the top, then that last over loss to South Africa, and finishing off our group with another good win against the West Indies. A well-fought quarterfinal encounter with Australia... and then the win over Pakistan in the semi.

About the game...

I will not lie to you, I looked forward to that game like it was my next breath. I mean, I don't know how much of it is the media hype; I don't watch news channels anymore, particularly during a major cricket tournament. But even so: that morning I woke up and the first thing I thought was oh my GOD today's India v Pakistan! And then: oh my god today's my mom's birthday better go run and wish her. But, yeah. I was super-excited.

The match lived up to my expectations. A team is only as strong as its weakest link, so while everybody went on and on about how it was Pakistan bowling v Indian batting, the real battle was between the Indian bowlers and the Pakistani batsmen. And guess what? The bowlers won. It is very special, considering how handicapped the attack was without a second specialist spinner, and that neither Nehra nor Patel had exactly covered themselves with glory in the previous matches. But they came good, and that's just this Indian team all over again: they falter and they fight, but by god, they won't just lie down and take whatever crap's dished to them.

(A note of appreciation here: I raged and raged when I learned that Ashwin had been dropped for the game. The Nehra choice worked very well - he bowled superbly - and Dhoni could've just grinned and soaked up the "oh he's such an intuitive captain" praise. But he didn't. He had the balls to admit that he made a mistake in reading the pitch, and that he ought to have gone in with two spinners, while still appreciating Nehra and Munaf's efforts.)

A lot of talk's going around that it was more a case of Pakistan losing than India winning the game. They dropped Sachin Tendulkar four times, they say. That's criminal! Perhaps. If Sachin'd gone, what's to say Yuvraj wouldn't have performed? What about Kohli? What if Raina had gotten a longer stint? What if Dhoni'd settled in earlier? Maybe if Sachin'd gotten out early, would we be looking at a 280+ score? 220? Can anybody say for sure?

Ultimately, India took its chances better than Pakistan did. Isn't that all about what cricket is? Isn't a pitting of skill against skill? Particularly considering it's a no-contact sport and you're freakin banned if you so much as touch shoulders with an opponent player. India batted better, India bowled better, India caught better! End of story! Why undermine the performance?

I have to say, though, that the Pakistanis did have a great tournament (apart from a few mad overs against NZ) and Afridi was fantastic and super-gracious in defeat. That, though, brings me to one last grouse:

It is best exemplified by this article by Aakash Chopra.

Look, I've never been a fan of the guy. I can't judge his cricket-related articles - not my area of expertise - and I've heard they're pretty good, which, hey. Great for him. But this one? So much more broad-based - too broad-based, in fact, and I think have sufficient authority to comment on it.

"Is this really patriotism?" he asks in the title. No, Aakash, it's jingoism. Welcome to the party. You're, uh, about 60 years late.

The support for the Indian team bordered on crass, he says. Again: where have you been all these years? Then:

In fact, now that we have beaten Pakistan it's considered okay if we lose to Sri Lanka in the final, for we have been avenged. Don't you find it strange? What does it tell you about our evolution as a responsible nation?

Oh god no - pop!sociology or whatever the hell he's attempting. No, Aakash, don't do it!

Then:

Post independence and the division of the country, we just carried forward the same sentiment i.e. sport being the vehicle to assert supremacy. The relations between India and Pakistan remained sour for the longest time. We've fought wars and still continue to have other equally important issues plaguing us. Yet, there's enough reason to believe that we as people, have matured and come a long way in trimming down that animosity, especially via Bollywood and numerous other cultural exchanges, perhaps reiterating time and again that the rivalry is only political. Or at least I'd like to believe that India has definitely evolved and has become a responsible nation. Unfortunately though, all it took was a cricket match to topple that process of evolution. Are we not, in a sense, pushing ourselves back a 100 years?

Just look at that. Look at the histrionics there. I thought I was a drama-llama. "topple that process of evolution"... "pushing ourselves back 100 years"... it's a cricket match, man! Stop attaching more importance to it! You're kind of defeating your own case, y'know.

If there are issues between India and Pakistan now, it's got to do with a little something called "terrorism". I'm sure you've heard? It's got nothing to do with a bunch of guys in coloured pyjamas knocking a ball around.

Also: dude. Sport has always been a source of crass jingoism! Sport is not like real life, where there are a million shades of grey and there are no absolutes. In sport, there are a definite set of rules, a clear playing field, and a definite winner and loser at the end of it all. If we let ourselves go as far as sport is concerned, should it be considered a devolution of intelligence on our part? Bollywood and cultural exchanges are fine, but on the playing field, it's always going to be an Us v Them, and it's always going to bring out our basest instincts. This is the case with every high-profile rivalry out there. Or have you not been evolving with the times? It's a global village! Keep an eye out for crowd reactions every where.

Then he vies for our sympathy, by describing the pressure felt by a player during these kinds of matches. He talks of the reactions of fans and how the players fear them, citing the vandalising of Kaif's house in '03 and the super-hype that the Pakistan tour of '04 got as examples. "We are humans too," he says. "Will we be the nation's pariah just because we couldn't win a game of cricket?" No, just win the next one and you'll be their darling again.

Okay, I don't have much against this part. The pathos is heartfelt and completely understandable. I can't imagine how it must be to have millions of hopes hinging on every move you make on the field.

Then he ends it so:

It's about time that we, as a nation, answer these questions. Are we going to behave like this every time we play Pakistan? If we detest them so much, it may not be a bad idea to severe all cricketing ties with them, for a cricket match can't be used as a benchmark to prove our superiority as a nation. Every time we behave like the way we did this time, it pulls us down as a responsible nation. The choice is ours.

Oh, is it, Mr. Chopra. What exactly did we do? We detest them? Really? We're looking at cricket matches as our only parameter of success against them? India and Pakistan have a lot of history between them, and the antagonism comes from wounds far, far deeper than any random cricket match. Like everything else, every place else, emotion is allowed free rein on the field. We scream and shout and hate and love, and at the end of the day we go home and sleep and go to work the next day. So don't boil everything down to a cricket match, Aakash. You're kinda shooting yourself in the foot.

Also, one of the most memorable India-Pakistan incidents is the standing ovation the Pakistani team got from the Chennai crowd in '99. Or more recently, when we gave the second-biggest cheer of the night to the Pakistani contingent (after our own athletes) in the Commonwealth games opening ceremony. Maybe you could take those incidents and spin a spiel about how close India and Pakistan actually are, huh?

Oh, god. I went completely off-track, huh.

Anyway, tomorrow? Has every chance of being India's day. I remember watching this ad and thinking how appropriate it was. Notice the man wearing the Dhoni jersey and walking the tightrope. He falls off at one point, and the crowd gets worried and anxious. Collective gasp. But he hangs on to the wire, hauls himself back on, and continues walking, much to the relief of the crowd.

I thought: that's India. That's the Indian team in a nutshell.

Why India v Sri Lanka = Star Wars

Truth be told, I wanted to post something about the whole spot-fixing business, but I found it was giving me a headache. And making me overtly cynical, which is the kind of stuff I want to avoid in this blog, so maybe I'll put in my two cents when I'm able to gather my thoughts better. Or, you know, not at all.

A friend and I were having a conversation the other day (yes, it's going to be one of those posts). She was bemoaning the sorry state of the Indian ODI team ("you know, with all this experimentation, I bet they'll have Rohit Sharma and Ramesh Powar open the bowling in the World Cup"), citing the recently played final of the Micromax Cup as an example.

I pointed out that with the number of times India and Sri Lanka played each other every year, the results were going to swing both ways equally. Including the 2008 Asia Cup, India and Sri Lanka have played in five tournament finals in the last two-or-so years - the '08 Asia Cup, which Sri Lanka won, then the Compaq Cup in 2009 (I bet you'd forgotten about that, huh), which India won, then the tri-series in Bangladesh in early '10 which Sri Lanka won, then the '10 Asia Cup final, which India won, and now, the Micromax tri-series final going to Sri Lanka, as per the well-established pattern.

After a few choice words delivered at my OCD (which, you know, it totally isn't), she said, "You know, you can say all you want about patterns - and don't you dare start some pop-sociology lecture, freak - but Sri Lanka had to lose."

"Why?"

"Because - because they're evil."

I merely raised my eyebrows.

"Have you seen Kumara Sangakkara recently? Those little eyes - that evil smirk?"

I wanted to protest - it wasn't that long ago that I was endorsing a "brown Mr. Darcy" description of the same man - but I could see her point. "You're right. Kind of like a James Bond villain."

"Come off it." She rolled her eyes. "He isn't that stupid."

"Then?"

"He was a nice guy once. Kind of like-" her eyes gleamed, "-Darth Vader."

"Clearly, then," I said, "someone has got to be Palpatine. You know, the eeevil pointless villain who turns Anakin Skywalker into Darth Vader."

"That's easy," she scoffed. "Mahela Jayawardene."

At this point I was practically out of my seat. "That's perfect! And Dilshan is totally General Tarkin."

"Yes! Now you're getting into it."

I was. Looking back, it was probably sinfully cathartic, but also. We were uncovering a Great Truth, so. "What about the good guys? The Jedi?"

"Pick your random Indian players," she said.

Considering the Jedi don't really exist for any purpose other than "battling" the Sith and vice versa, that made sense. "First off? Let's get Han Solo out of the way. M S Dhoni."

After a lot more choicey words about my "mile-wide bias" (which it totally isn't), it was decided that the Han Solo casting would be decided upon later. "Sachin Tendulkar," she said, "is obviously Master Yoda. Right from the size, to the English, to the nine-hundred-years-old part."

"That makes Dhoni Obi-Wan Kenobi!" I crowed.

"You do realise that makes Suresh Raina Luke Skywalker, right?"

That stopped me short, I had to admit. But hey. I could live with that, you know? "Then Han Solo is Yuvraj Singh. You know, irresponsible friend of the hero who's really, really good if he puts his head into it?"

However, when I started speculating about Chewbacca, she pretty much warned me not to broach the subject with a ten-foot pole. Huh. (Look, Harbhajan Singh would make an awesome Wookiee).

Then there was only one thing left to be determined.

"Who's Princess Leia?" she asked.

It turned out I didn't really have to think too much about that. "Ishant Sharma," I said.

India v Sri Lanka: because the Force Wills it to Be.

And so it happens

We won today. Dhoni top-scored, man of the match, NZ steam-rollered. I should be ecstatic, but I'm not.

Why?

LAHORE, Pakistan, March 3 (Reuters) - Six members of the Sri Lankan cricket squad were wounded when around a dozen gunmen attacked their bus as it drove under police escort on Tuesday to a stadium in the Pakistani city of Lahore, witnesses and officials said.

Lahore Police chief Habib-ur-Rehman said five people were killed in the attack by the unidentified gunmen, who fired AK 47s and rockets and hurled grenades as the team bus drove to the 60,000-seater Gaddafi stadium in the eastern city.

Sri Lanka's sports minister said five players and an assistant coach were wounded, two of whom were being treated in hospital.

Horrible. The Sri Lankan team went to Pakistan when nobody else was willing to, as a gesture of peace, to prove to the rest of the world that Pakistan was indeed a safe place to play cricket. And this is what they get. Sick.

Thankfully none of the players were seriously wounded, but six policemen died, taking the brunt of the attack.

Nobody's going to think of setting foot in Pakistan for cricket for some time now.

Just, just. So sad. And so sick.

My prayers are with those affected.

Scramble for the light

So after a month, I'm finally back home - mostly because of all the unrest that's going on here related to the war and unrest in Sri Lanka. I feel a strange kind of disconnect and even guilt, though, as the only Sri Lanka-related news I'm interested in catching up on is the progress of the national cricket team playing (yet another, yet another) ODI series there, and not on the lives lost, the mistrust and the unholy mess that is the decades-old conflict that is supposed to (so they say, with fiery, graphic forwards and demonstrations) involve me by proxy, as a Tamilian. I'm not even sure why I feel this, since neither the ODI series nor the war is anything I can do something about, so what I choose to follow is entirely my own, no baggage involved.

... Anyway.

The first ODI played - Dambulla, day match and I fretted briefly remembering the last two matches that were played there between the two sides, but finally I had nothing to worry about. It wasn't all that easy to bat on, but the Evergreen and Always Rocking Jayasuriya blasted a century anyway - and India won anyway. Rather comfortably, actually - aided by good, steady batting from everybody, intelligent bowling and captaincy, and lapses of concentration and incompetence from the Lankans. Plus, the last two times the two faced off in Dambulla? Ajantha Mendis still held his magical sway over the Indian batsmen that had them trooping off to the dressing room one after the other as if in a spell, while Zaheer Khan was experiencing an amazingly rich vein of form - probably the best he'll ever have in his career. Result? Not once did either team cross 150 in the four innings. This time around, however, not only did the pitch behave different, Mendis and Zaks were both out of their Magical Zones and it was back to the usual stuff needed to win ODIs. And this Indian team goes about that business with the precision and efficiency that reminds one of a machine. Strange that watching a machine could make you so excited - but I am, I love what this Indian team promises, I am so looking forward to seeing their ambition blossom into fruition.

Also I was impressed by how quickly the Indian team got themselves back on track, seemingly picking up from where they left against England, despite the long lay-off from international cricket. Traces of rustiness was present, but nothing glaringly obvious or match-costing.

But really, the best thing about that ODI? Ajantha Mendis's bowling figures: 10-0-47-0.

That's right, people. No wickets. Oh, have I been waiting for the day. Sure, the kid's allowed a temporary slump, as new as he is to international cricket, and the Indians have come a long, long way since the Asia Cup Final 6 for 13 nightmare days - had to have, just had to - but I would often point out, almost bitterly, that come hell or high weather, win or loss, jaffas or crappy bowling, Mendis always gets a wicket. Always. Now, though? The Mendis is not Elusive. He is still Spendid (due courtesy to Damith of flyslip for the term), with potential to become Splendider, but he has to work harder for his wickets now. No more a flick of the middle finger and the batsman scurries off to the pavilion. This be Good, but for there was nothing more that annoyed me than the willing way the Indian batsmen capitulated to his so-called 'mystery bowling' last time they faced him, especially in the Test series. Guts, innovation, confidence, positivity - and suddenly Mendis is blinking.

Then the focus shifted to the second ODI in Premadasa, and it's a day-nighter. Again, fret-inducing memories of playing daynighters in Sri Lanka from last time around, and how the ball seems to do strange things under lights, but again, the effect this time wasn't as drastic as the last time around. India won the toss, batted first (predictably enough) and after a superb start, suffered a few brain-fades in between, coupled with some excellent Powerplay bowling by Maharoof, and ended up 256/9, which while on its own was an excellent total to defend in the Premadasa, was at least 30-35 runs short of where the Indians should've been considering their start, all the batsmen who got out after settling, and the sheer superiority of their batting lineup, with no offence to the Sri Lankan lineup. We started our defence well enough, too, ripping quickly through the SL top-order, but then lost focus in some of the Powerplay overs, allowed Kandamby of The Few International Matches and Jayawardene Of the Bad Form to climb on top of our nerves (in their own paint-drying-on-a-wall way) and set up things for a last-ditch attempt to overhaul the Indian total, which ultimately failed, as Ishant bowled magnificently at the death, choked the Lankans, run-outs abounded, and the Indians emerged victorious by 15 runs, while Ishi deservedly captured the MoM award for his four-fer.

"India clinch thriller" the headlines announced. "Survive Kandamby scare." And then: "Dhoni admits to losing his cool" as if that was an incredible thing. Dude's human, people.

What interested me was Dhoni's response to his team's performance in the ODI. Any other captain would've primarily just been pleased, especially considering that Kandamby was threatening to take the game away from the Indians at one point, but Dhoni instead chose to focus on the areas that had put them in the spot of bother in the first place. He's not just satisfied with winning - he wants to win well. With 100% commitment from each and every player. He admitted that there was no clear planning about bowling in the Powerplays, and the confusion caused Dhoni to lose his cool briefly, and Expose his Wrath. This attitude seems to have rubbed off on his teammates as well, with Ishant Sharma admitting that it was not one of his better performances even while collecting the Man of the Match award. Personally? I think it's a great attitude to have, and Dhoni's constant warnings against complacency have great arguments backing them. Sure, the Indians hadn't played an ODI before this for 2 months, it's easy to dismiss the lapses, even Dhoni's expressiveness as traces of rustiness, but they aren't hiding behind excuses. Not anymore. It's about identifying problems, and rectifying them immediately. It's about striving toward perfection, a scramble for a light they probably will never reach, but will kick up a lot of glorious dust doing so (and damn if I'm not hot on the metaphors today).

This is one of the many reasons I adore MSD.

I make no bones of the fact that I fangirl Dhoni more than anybody else in the world, but my adoration of the man goes beyond his good-looks, cricket, style, money and all that good stuff. He's a polar opposite to me, and therefore everything I strive to be: focussed, uncomplicated, accepting responsibilities as they come, hard-working, humble and open. Proving that if you are focussed enough on what you do, you will be successful. He had never clamoured for captaincy, never expressed a desire to do so, and had never captained a team in his life before. And yet, when the ultimate responsibility is thrust on him out of the blue - the job they call second-most difficult to that of the Prime Minister's - he took to it without complaint or gloat, all dedication and focus. A neat segregation of duties. On-field: cricket. Off-field: No cricket, all the good stuff, ads, movies, bonding. No mixing of the two, no distraction. It's just about everything I want to be, put into a neat nutshell: I was so unsure whether I was fit to take the profession I'm studying for, so unsure of the responsibilities and of my responses to various situations, but hey, if Dhoni's focus and self-belief can take him through, why can't mine? Focus, one game after the other. Focus, one study topic after the other. I can make it through.

So MSD's more than awesome fangirl-material. He is Inspiration. More than Tendukar, or the Middle Order. More than Amitabh Bachchan, or Abhinav Bindra, or Shah Rukh Khan, or any of the other usual suspects.

... Um. Yeah. But I'm feeling melancholy and emotional, and this had to be told.

So. MSD and co.? Keep perfecting yourselves. Keep up the scrambling. Keep making us proud(er).

Whatever happens next ODI (which I have a sneaking feeling SL will win. >.>).

Addendum: I'm not going to say A WORD about South Africa whupping the Aussies 4-1 in the ODI series. Nope. Except: Hee! *glee* \o/

And New Zealand? Geez, how difficult can you make a chase after your bowlers did all the good work?

Shoaib Malik, you poor thing. I used to like you once. And I don't like Younis Khan becoming captain. He was offered the job after Inzi's retirement, but acted so precious and refused the job. Right now, if I had the power? I'd say "Eff you all" and appointed Misbah as the captain, Salman Butt his deputy. And not just because they happen to be the only two good-looking men in the Pakistani team (honestly, I swear!). Aside from the occasional brain-fades after working his team into a winning position, Misbah looks like a sensible, well-liked person, not prone to dramatic gestures or parroting the same-old same-old flabby cliches (yes, Shoaib Malik, I'm looking at YOU).

... Oof.