Notes From the World Cup: Afghanistan and Netherlands Bring the Party

The World Cup is now lit.

Close your eyes and think of Roger Federer. What do you see? A lithe figure in all-white clothing and a bandana, half-crouched, right hand arched behind, left hand and torso facing a lime-coloured ball. Centre Court, Wimbledon. A wildlife photographer would call this a portrait from his natural habitat. This is where Federer came alive and morphed into an artist. Like many before and after him, this patch of grass in south-west London is where one takes the leap from good to great. If you follow your tennis, I see your furrowed brow and your eyes looking for the Rafael Nadal-Roland Garros card. My submission is thus: after which title did we start considering Nadal as Federer's true rival?

Some events just have that special significance. Yanni rarely ever sounded mediocre, but he grew into something else at the Acropolis. Ask Simone Biles about the Olympics, where she won a fraction of her career haul, and her eyes light up.

An ODI World Cup, for all of cricket's excesses, has a special corner in the hearts of professional cricketers. Admittedly, tradition has a lot to do with it. Until 2007, this was the only “world” event they got to participate in. The men had already participated in eight ODI World Cups by the time T20s became a thing. Over the last decade and a half, as the charm of the 50-over format has diminished to the point of near irrelevance, T20 World Cups have probably become the most lucrative and closely followed event in international cricket. And yet, when you think of the World Cup, the mind goes for the ODI version, at least for the time being.

India's official advertising campaign for the tournament, led by jersey manufacturer Adidas, has a song called "Teen ka Dream", Hindi for The Dream of the Third. If we were to count all formats, India already has three world titles. No discussion involving Pakistan and World Cups is complete without a reference to the glory of 1992. The T20 title of 2009 is almost forgotten. The longer format owns the marquee.

Last night marked a fortnight of this edition, and the host team has turned up in its most royal colours. In each of their four matches, they have come out with more smiles than sweat. On the morning after a clinical performance, neatly punctuated by a Virat Kohli century, it is difficult to not get carried away by the kind of form he and most of the Indian team have been showing. New Zealand have been equally solid, thrashing England and making light work of potential banana peels in Afghanistan and Bangladesh.

The biggest story, however, is not about the top dogs marking their territory. The scrawny strays, who have shown up from neighbouring blocks, have brought the noise. In the last week alone, we have had two games that will be remembered long after this tournament is done, maybe even long after the fifty--over format meets its end.

There is a tendency, amongst players, teams, and fans, to consider certain teams as walkovers. When I called New Zealand's game against Afghanistan a potential banana peel, you moved on without pausing. For good reason. Teams like Afghanistan and the Netherlands live on the margins of international cricket. They have to fight for games, often making do with leftovers from a hectic schedule. For all their skill and talent, administrations rarely give them a regular platform to grow. So, often, you see them fighting hard but rarely ever matching the range of technical skills a regular Test-playing team boasts of. Within the boundaries of proper preparation and respect, the England and South Africa camps would have looked through their schedule and marked Ws against those games. 

Under a warm Delhi sun, England got battered from the first ball. Chris Woakes, a picture of consistency for his entire career, bowled wide; Jos Buttler, captain and otherwise a good keeper, let the ball slip. Five runs to Afghanistan before a ball was bowled. Rahmanullah Gurbaz then took England to the sword, cutting and pulling the defending world champions to all corners of the Arun Jaitley Stadium. England never recovered fully, barring a small patch in the middle overs where Afghanistan lost their way, but it was a period all too brief. Afghanistan’s middle and lower-order took the batting effort to a formidable, if not intimidating, 284. And then they made the ball talk. The seamers found swing; the spinners found zip. In between all of that, Mohammed Nabi looped the ball, held it by a string, and made the England batters dance. The final margin of 69 runs was generous to England.

Photo credits: MyKhel

Netherlands, however, had to script a serious turnaround in their match against South Africa. Batting first in hilly, rainy, Dharamshala, they found themselves at 51-4 and 140-7. In ODI cricket, against teams as well-equipped as South Africa, these are points from which your energy is sucked out. The other team just has too many tools in the shed. South Africa made a mess of the final stage, and Netherlands, helmed by a captain who seemed to have glacial water running through his veins, cashed in. The last nine overs brought in the windfall of 104 runs. 245 to defend in 43 overs. South Africa were still expected to chase this down, given the depth and quality in their batting lineup. Instead, they entered the cage timid, possibly carrying scars from their defeat against the same opponents in last year's T20 World Cup. They never looked like getting those runs.

As the euphoria from these two games simmered down, and the sense of history began sinking in, it all felt a bit odd. As if, for events so significant, something was missing. There was no..drama. Neither game had a tense finish, the kind which leaves a lot of margin for luck to play its part. England and South Africa would have had an easier time explaining, mostly to themselves, a loss like that. Last over, should have hit a six, got bowled instead. Shit happens. Even a catastrophic batting collapse could have been a crutch. Teams tend to laugh those days off as a rare tumble on a plain, flat road. Or, on other days, one player from the opposition going ham, having an outing straight from cricket heavens. Cue: patronising praise with a smirk that says, "They get only one of those." Neither game had any symptoms of a wild, shock result. Both, instead, felt oddly calm. The fate was decided well before the final wicket. Afghanistan's win against England could even be called a walloping. Netherlands applied a strangle of such calculated pressure that South Africa could neither move nor breathe.

Given how these games turned out, is it fair to tag them as upsets? With context, it should be. On every day of the week and twice on a Sunday, Afghanistan or Netherlands enter a game against a full-member nation as the substantially weaker side. Before their game against South Africa, the Netherlands men's team hadn't won an ODI against a Test-playing nation not called Bangladesh. Afghanistan, before their game against England, had never beaten England, India, Australia, New Zealand, Pakistan, or South Africa in an ODI. Now, look towards the other corner. Over the last six or seven years, England have been the gold standard of limited-overs cricket. They have led the way in every aspect from planning to execution. South Africa haven't quite been in the first row alongside England or India, but they came into the tournament in rare form and started on fire. After their games against Sri Lanka and Australia, they were cast, rightfully, as among the strongest teams in the tournament. 

For Afghanistan and Netherlands to come out of a World Cup with wins against them is an upset painted by Michelangelo. It is a thumb in the nose of those who design World Cups to garland the most popular and financially lucrative teams. The gawky indies may not win too many other games at this World Cup, but they have left the kind of mark that milestone events get remembered for. This is a World Cup in its natural habitat.

North Korea '66, Kenya '96, and Senegal '02, say hello to the newest members of the club.