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I was too young in 1983. I must have been busy with the puppies and pomegranate trees in my grandmom’s backyard when Amarnath trapped Holding in front and ran for his life from the invading Lord’s crowd. I often get a lot of vicarious pleasure from the fact that BBC went on strike and nobody could watch Kapil hitting that 175 not out on the way to that epic final.
Months later, improvised bats and drumstick stumps would arrive in nearby streets. I remember waiting forever for my first tryst with the bat only to squander it away by walking down to meet the first ball. Before, I knew the bat was snatched away saying I was stumped. Cricket, thus, made a heart breaking entry in to my life, and has refused to leave since. It grew on the streets and touched feverish proportions by the time Gavaskar notched up his 10,000th run somewhere in '87. 10,000 runs in one match? My understanding was still vague. But, I was too scared to ask the boys and get mocked.
The Reliance Cup of '87 is again a vague memory. I remember getting confused with West Indies victory with an Indian win after reading of it in Tamil papers. Gavaskar went from hero to zero after getting out for 4 in the semi final ‘swept’ away by a Gooch hundred.
Thus, the fifth edition Cup in Australia and New Zealand in 1992 was practically my first real world cup as a proper Indian cricket fan and has left many indelible memories. Many other world cups would come and go with the most recent one having the most happy ending iced with a Dhoni rocket, but 1992 Benson and Hedges is right up there on my list. Here are some moments that you might recall:
Two decades and some years later as we sit on the eve of another India-Pakistan cracker, the memories of a fat Javed Miandad, ( Haven’t really hated anyone in my life so much, Shoaib Akthar would come close years later…but still fell short), jumping up and down is as green as the colours he wore that day.
Though, Pakistan eventually had the consolation of winning the cup and India came back with some salvaged pride of having beaten the arch rivals, both have never wore better clothes on the cricket field.
India has chosen to dilute their blues so much to almost look like what Ian Botham inspired England wore, while the Pakis have moved to more South Africa like green.
That match of bright green and olive green was a real game changer as it threw up an all time great moment with a boyish Jonty ‘flying’ Rhodes destroying the stumps of a stranded Inzamam Ul Haq. I would not be wrong to believe that spectacular event permanently damaged the confidence of Inzy and he stopped believing that he could ever get back to crease in time setting career run-out records.
Bouncing wickets, vast grounds, Ravi Shastri’s crawling fifties, Srikanth holing out early in long on and that young diving Ajay Jadeja covering a lot of ground to catch Alan Border slog in the outfield these slow motion replays of a forgettable Indian campaign keep playing in my mind every now and then.
The Tom Moody final over in which he cleans up Kiran More’s furniture was another lasting painful memory. It would stay until Sachin would send him to cleaners in one of those desert storm innings in Sharjah many years later. Did Sachin do much in '92, can’t recall.
I always hated the Kiwis less than the Aussies. In fact, I liked them. And, Greatbatch’s antics at top of the order and Deepak Patel’s on the top of the bowlers list were delightful surprises of the World Cup.
Which is why seeing Martin Crowe sitting on the field with his pants down with a pulled hamstring in the semi-final was another heartbreak. That the beneficiary of this injury was an ageing Pathan warlord added salt to my wounds.
I didn’t really like the final, so don’t remember much of the game though image of Khan holding the globe shaped cup can’t be erased easily.
Of all the great memories, I have of that thunder of a world cup down under the most moving should be of Brian Macmillan of the newly inducted Proteas walking back dejected and angry after the Duckworth-Lewis scripted tragedy in the Semis. “22 runs off 1 ball.” Who would forget that villainous digital screen?
Like, our then captain, I believe in destiny to some extent. I also just read a tweet which quoted someone saying “what you lose comes back to you in some other form.” Sometimes it take Twenty three years, probably. My team for the eleventh world cup is South Africa. But, not because of destiny, not because of that quote I read.
This cup is for Abraham De Villiers's team to lose.
