Clichés tend to be true. That is how they become clichés. And one of cricket’s most-repeated is: In a major final, when you win the toss, bat.
It is a measure of India’s arrogance that in the Champions Trophy final, they decided to bowl instead, reasoning perhaps, “Whatever our sad, unformed opponents score, we can score one run more.” That they actually scored 180 runs fewer cannot all be attributed to that one decision alone, but that’s a good starting point.
“The scoreboard is your extra bowler,” is a corollary to the earlier cliché. Teams have chased 300, they have even chased 400 and won; but a big score batting first is as effective as a Mohammed Amir delivery in applying pressure. Especially when you don’t have a Amir or anyone approaching his skill bowling for you.
Perhaps India had already peaked in the semifinal against Bangladesh and the rest was going to be downhill anyway, while Pakistan had struggled initially and peaked at the right time. Perhaps picking two spinners was wrong. Perhaps the middle order was just waiting to be exposed. Perhaps on another day, Fakhar Zaman might not have got away with his combination of loose and precise batsmanship.
Perhaps on another day, Indian fielders might have hit the stumps more often and made up for their bowlers’ having an off day. Perhaps an overconfident, overcoached India were overcome by an underdone, underprepared Pakistan playing a wonderful brand of spontaneous, unrehearsed, instinctive cricket. Not since the West Indies of the 1980s has a team enjoyed itself so patently and communicated that enjoyment so emphatically.
The post mortems will continue.
This was a young, hungry, passionate Pakistan team who only just made it into the tournament as the eighth-ranked team. They had more to prove.
They have not played an international at home in eight years, which means a generation has grown up without having seen their heroes in action. To retain the passion, the vision, and channelise the anger and disappointment has been Pakistan’s great achievement. They played on the edge of the tournament, almost every match a knockout, but remained the last men standing.
There was arrogance here too, but it was arrogance of a different kind. Where India’s was built on a lack of respect for the opposition, Pakistan’s grew from self-belief. It was the arrogance of a young team which didn’t know better; India’s was that of an experienced team that should have known better.
The defeat would have clarified things for India. The next big test is the 2019 World Cup in England. It is a young man’s game. Both Mahendra Singh Dhoni and Yuvaraj Singh will be 37 then. Had India won, the question may not have been asked. This is what defeat does.
Other options will have to be explored too. Despite Virat Kohli’s average of 253 going into the final, this was not the Kohli who has dominated the bowling around the world. This was the Kohli of England, edgy (in more senses than one), uncertain against skilled bowlers testing him outside the off stump.
He will remain captain for the World Cup, but the two-year planning could involve a stint in English county cricket. Perhaps for a season, perhaps half a season. The best place to familiarise yourself with English conditions is England. Kohli is a driven man, the man most likely to overtake Sachin Tendulkar’s records in one-day cricket. He will be probed in county cricket. That can only help his cause.
India will have to come to terms with the fact that they were thrashed. There is no gentle way of saying this. Kohli was gracious in defeat, just as his counterpart Sarfraz Ahmed was in victory. This is a generation that does not hark back to the Partition and the Wars and political conflicts which are the staple of television and other media.
It is cricket’s burden that it has to stand for things beyond itself: nationalism, patriotism, self-worth, masculinity and much more. To say that its only a game is the consolation of the defeated — clichés can be comforting. Another cliché: the better team on the day won.
Its been a while since India lost a final so badly. Yet stones were not pelted at players’ houses, nor have there been calls for sacking the team or discussions about time spent on commercial endorsements. That’s one cliché we should be glad to have got rid of — that defeat is the end of the world.
It is as if the teams play cricket, and their supporters play politics around the event. Understandable, for it draws eyeballs to the screen and helps sell toothpaste and cars and those things you put on your hair to feel young.
The captains’ maturity has been reflected in the behaviour of the fans on either side of the border. Cricket is not politics, or indeed war by other means.
A final cliché: Upsets are the life blood of sport. Certainty never served it well.
