Allow me this slight detour from the Summer of Footy…
Defining what a love language is can be a bit dubious. Still, I like to think that a love language is anything you do to feel more connected to and more loved by another person, a group of people, or even just yourself. Sharing sports with others is undoubtedly one of my love languages. I have made some of my best friends and most cherished memories through playing, consuming, and traveling for sports. Whenever I meet new people or go to new places, I can always rely on a sports-related question to spark a conversation. Hell, I started this blog as a way to share my love of football with you, the reader. And as excited as I was and am for the ongoing Summer of Footy, I felt the most love watching sports this summer during the T20 World Cup Final.
Being a cricket fan is particularly a prerequisite to being Indian. While I have vague memories of India’s 2007 T20 World Cup triumph (and, of course, Yuvi’s six 6’s), the first cricket-related emotions I remember came during the 2011 ODI World Cup. The 2011 World Cup was hosted across India, Sri Lanka, and Bangladesh, meaning matches started at 3:00 AM EST and lasted 8 hours. That didn’t stop any of my friends and family from keeping up with every second of the World Cup, though. I remember several uncles coming over with their work laptops to watch India vs. Pakistan at 4 AM on a weekday. I was rubbing the crust out of my eyes before school to the sound of 4 grown men loudly appealing an LBW decision in my family room. What a joy. I remember following the rest of that match on my phone during orchestra class, standing my phone on the sheet music stand to avoid the teacher’s attention. I remember, of course, the Final and how Dhoni (my favorite player) "finished it off in style" with a glorious 6 into the Mumbai sky. Most importantly, I remember how I felt after the final because it was the first time I ever felt so proud to be Indian.
That 2011 WC informed my excitement for every World Cup that has come after. And so, anytime a Cricket World Cup rolls around, it feels like an opportunity, sometimes even a reminder, to stay connected to such a core aspect of my identity: being Indian. I talk to my relatives and family friends more (special shoutout Sagar masaji). I read Indian sports journalists more. I listen to Indian music more. Simply put, I feel more Indian. As a first-generation immigrant, cricket is a love language I use to stay connected to my Indian roots.
In recent years, I have embraced this love language and would take it upon myself to bring friends and family together for cricket watch parties. The post-Diwali, early morning party to watch (you guessed it) India vs. Pakistan in the 2022 T20 World Cup is a seminal memory. Watching Virat Kohli turn into a superhero and clutch victory from the jaws of defeat was a spectacle, no doubt. But I was more entertained by the emotions of the people around me. I saw aunties and uncles, who I have known for decades, turn into rabid, unhinged fans. There was screaming, praying, superstitioning (probably not a word), and everything else we fans do. I saw these adults, these parents revert back to the adoring child that grew up watching Kapil Dev or Sunil Gavaskar on TV – a side of them I would rarely ever see. And that’s why sports are such a great uniter – you connect with not only the person they are today but with the kid inside them who became a sports fan all those years ago.
2022 T20 World Cup India vs Pakistan…with some familiar faces from 2011
So, as I sat down to watch the World Cup Final on June 29th, 2024, I wasn’t watching with my Mom and Dad. I was watching with Tanuja and Rajesh. I got to see them go through all the classic fan range of emotions…not as Mom and Dad, but as diehard fans. I saw my Dad change his shirt when India’s front order collapsed at 34-3. I saw the smiles return as hope built through Kohli and Axar’s innings. I saw the frantic pacing across the family room when de Kock hit his stride. I saw my Mom’s prayer hands when Klaasen was punishing every Indian bowler. I saw the fist pumps when Bumrah bowled the 18th over. I saw the hugs and sighs of relief when SKY made the greatest catch I can remember. I saw the tears of joy after the final ball. I saw it all in just 4 hours. Cricket, bloody hell?
Above all, I saw my parents at their rawest. I will never forget their faces after the last ball (pictured above). The distinctive combination of relief, joy, pride, and love is an emotion that only sports, only Indian cricket, can bring them. That night, in a moment of self-reflection, my Mom even confessed to me, “I finally get why you care about sports the way you do.” She was starting to become fluent in my love language, and in a surprising twist, I realized that maybe sports are one of my parents’ love languages too. 💙
Music Played While Writing:
Mitwa from Lagaan by A.R. Rahman
Yeh Jo Des Hai Tera from Swades by A.R. Rahman
Maa Tujhe Salaam by A.R. Rahman
Chak De India from Chak De India by Salim-Sulaiman
Rang De Basanti from Rang De Basanti by A.R. Rahman
Your best post yet!!!
PS - you could have chosen a more flattering picture :-)
Excellent depiction of Indian Cricket fan. 100% rings true in most Desi households.
And yes, AR’s music rocks … appropriate choice of music
You chose perfect day to express yourself about Cricket… MSD’s birthday 7/7.