When grown men cry over cricket

It is termed flashbulb memory — those moments of towering historical importance, or great emotional significance, when one move becomes a game changer and years later when recalled, most people always remember where they were or what they happened to be doing when that moment happened. Like the assassination of a world leader or a natural calamity — or, as in happier cases — a World Cup win. Apart from the victory itself and the exultation that followed, what will be remembered about India lifting the Cricket World Cup after 28 years on Saturday night is how very emotional it all became.

“We were all very emotional and tears also came as I have been chasing this dream for 22 years,” L’il Master Sachin Tendulkar told scribes, as he described as ‘the greatest moment’ of his career.
“Too many tears, too many emotions,” southpaw Yuvraj Singh echoed Tendulkar’s words in the saturation coverage that followed. And the TV grabs and pictures said it all anyway. Even coach Kirsten and the unflappable king of cool, Do-No-Wrong Dhoni, had their eyes glistening.

So why am I writing about grown men crying in a Maximum Mumbai write-up? It’s not like we don’t have enough things to cry about. The recent provisional census report outlining the alarmingly dipping girl child sex ratio is enough to drive anyone to tears and if that isn’t moving enough, there are other social/civic issues. Water conservation as summer approaches, the sorry state of our green cover, the way our animals are treated - each and every one of these and more could do with some highlighting.
And yet, here I am, going on about those very public tears on Saturday night. There have been other victories, other achievements on global platforms. Rahman winning at the Oscars is also a victory perceived to be on the world stage, so too our CWG achievements in the women’s 4X400 relay etc, or our shooting achievement in the 2008 Olympics. Right after the World Cup win we had Bhupathi-Paes win the ATP Masters in Miami.
And I should know something about seeing grown men cry, I’ve watched my own husband (normally stoic to the point of being superhuman), captaining the Indian rugby team, break down along with the rest of his teammates after a particularly heartbreaking loss to another nation.

But this is not rugby or shooting or any other sport. And its not about loss, it’s about jubilation. Something about a win on a stage like cricket makes it about more than just the game. It’s personal. It happened right here in the city. A nation was watching closely at every step, waiting to exhale. When the moment finally arrived, it was bigger than us all. It blew us away, this rare moment of upliftment in a milieu  of internal political deceit (scams), global social despair (the Middle East, the Japan crisis), general unrest.
To mark this unusual reprieve, we partied until dawn, some all weekend. When the tears came, tears of stunned, blessed joy, a country cried along. Laughter and tears, gravitas and levity, how did Eric Clapton put it - Tears in Heaven? What could be more Maximum Mumbai than that?