Sport is one part beauty and one part cruelty. One part joy and one part despair. One part pleasure and one part pain. On the night of March 24th, 2015, two teams colluded in a far away stadium to show us mere mortals that sporting highs cannot be enjoyed without experiencing the accompanying tragic lows.
After witnessing what is easily one of the best matches in World Cup knockout history, I was left emotionally drained and confused that I wasn't quite sure how to react. There was the first wave of unalloyed elation at a team that deserved to be in the final achieving it in the most emphatic way possible. Then the joy of watching the emotions of a nation that has been in waiting for years channeled through a pulsating crowd. 40,000 of them that cheered as one and then enjoyed as one. Then there was a surge of pure grief. A team denied one more time. Weather. Fate. Destiny. Or the plain old choke. Call it whatever, it was nothing but heart break for this South African team and their nation. Yet another generation of players and fans subjected to yet another loss to grieve about for four more years. That now familiar emotion of having come so tantalizingly close. And as the curtains come down, one team gets to take a shot at more glory; the other left to come to terms with reality.
Did what transpire on the Eden Park turf was actually a choke? In the past, there had always been a single moment in the key games that they had lost around which the game swung away from them. When they chose to snatch defeat when victory was likely theirs. That single point where one could put a finger and proclaim (with the luxury of hindsight) "aha, here is where they lost it". But I would say this was simply a closely fought game between two equals that brought out the best from the 22 men involved. A game where the difference between victory and loss was merely statistical. There was neither a victor nor vanquished. Instead there was raw emotion. Plenty of it. And all kinds of it. Pride. Triumph. Elation. Grief. Anguish. Agony. In the end, some hearts were warmed; some broken.
What makes this especially draining is that these are the two teams that are the most likable. Easily two of teams with more "second favorite team" status among cricket fans than the others. How do you pick between two groups of true sportsmen. True ambassadors of the game that chose not to tarnish the sanctity of the occasion with anything cheap. No dirty tactics of mind games, pre-match banter or juvenile on-field behavior that could take away from the beauty of the contest. Aggression was gilded with dignity. And the fight was fought with honor. The celebrations were loud but gracious and the sorrow was raw yet dignified. And the speeches afterwards bore testimony to the true nature of the men involved. Class is what separates the men from the boys. It will be difficult to surpass the bar that they have jointly set so high.
It seems almost silly to poke through the still warm embers and analyze the what ifs. There was the rain that changed the tempo. There were off-key performances. Then there were the errors on the field. And there were enough of them committed by both sides. But as Sambit Bal has so beautifully put it, "sport and history are generous to the follies of the winner".
What lies ahead for South Africa may be familiar but not pleasant. Coming to terms with this (I so hate to use this word) loss will not be easy. This team had the opportunity to heal the wounds of the past. But they have fresh ones to heal instead. They will also have to deal with the fact that this group of super talented individuals will be walking away from the game without that one coveted piece of silver. Not to mention the task of rebuilding a team that will have this cloud hanging over them for some time to come.
Thank you New Zealand. Thank you South Africa. Thank you for giving us a contest that we can cherish nor matter our sporting affiliations. An operatic performance truly worthy of a semi final. A game played with such rare class that I wished I was either a Kiwi or a Protea that night.
No comments:
Post a Comment