What is the cruelest moment you have witnessed in sport?

What is the cruelest moment you have witnessed in sport?

Breathe. It’s morning after— the cruelest ever, the meanest ever. In times to come, yesterday’s tremors will topple the 1999 World Cup semi-final or the 2008 Wimbledon final in the water-cooler debates about the greatest (cricket or tennis) matches ever played, but those discussions can wait. Let words wither and rationale retire. Give in to sport’s allure, succumb to its bubbling brutalities, marvel the mavericks, feel the agony, enjoy the ecstasy, romance the rhetoric, and dance to its delirium — is there a greater drug? Breathe.

Sport – watching, playing or simply commenting on it – gives us immense joy. It takes something from us in return too – at times, sapping our emotional quotient, and numbing our minds. These are rare moments, wherein even champions seem like mere mortals, and the average viewer is but left stupefied.

Two teams fought till there was no fight left to be fought. Two men slugged until the result became immaterial. It was punishing, for them, and for us. It was a lesson, to humanity and humans that the universe has a weird way of pronouncing verdicts, and it may not always go your way, but you still ought to accept it with Kane Williamson’s grace and Roger Federer’s finesse.

This cruel nature of sport is also Kane Williamson’s humility, after New Zealand tied – didn’t lose to England in the 2019 Cricket World Cup final – twice over, and yet, lost.

“Laugh or cry, it’s your choice, isn’t it? It’s not anger. There’s a lot of disappointment, I suppose. Yeah, the guys are really feeling it and I think it’s probably more down to some of the uncontrollables (sic),” said Williamson, post the ‘defeat’ on Sunday, delivering, arguably, the most stunning press conference ever.

England are 170/4. They need 71 runs in 60 balls with Jos Buttler and Ben Stokes at the crease. Easy. Then, magic begins. Nice guys get gritty, gritty men keep hitting out and getting out.

Around 12 miles away, Novak Djokovic is at work, doing what Novak Djokovic does best — giving grit a good name. Roger Federer is across the net, doing what Roger Federer does — making this world livable. Between them, they are playing some incredible tennis. A five-set Wimbledon final is the sporting equivalent of a Shakespearean tragedy. Five sets, five acts, each with a subplot, each with a restless undercurrent, each shaping the drama. Then, a wicked twist to leave you shocked.

Almost on cue, Federer plays his poorest shot after 4 hours and 57 minutes on the Centre Court, and the overhead lob ends a five-set classic. Who’s writing the script? What’s this invisible, sinister pull? Breathe.

Standing on the Lord’s balcony, Williamson is a picture of calm in the middle of a pulsating maelstrom. Either he has seen the future, or he simply looks at the world in some preternatural perspective. He is stoned, not shocked. That’s about all the emotion he would display for the next 30 minutes. At the other end of the city, rather than ruminating on the heartbreak, Federer talks about inspiring fellow 37-year-olds. What? Who are these men who implore you to lose like them, win like them, be like them? On moments like these, when sport becomes the metaphor for life — an unfair life, you are free to say — you don’t have a choice but to smile back at it and be grateful.

Sport, in its barest, truest form, exists in a win-loss binary, but at the heart of it lies the intangibles of grit and spirit. New Zealand, England, Djokovic, and Federer lived the essence of sport, irrespective of the results. No excuses were given, no angry outbursts arrived, no obscene celebrations happened. It was sport — relentless, breathless, and nerveless. In days to come, when the emotional high subsides and worldly matters of existence take over the philosophical sermons of sport, it will be worth poring over certain questions: How do you define success and failures, victors and vanquished, wins and losses? Why is the world the way it is? Why did it have to be Federer and Williamson, two fine men born on the same day nine years apart? And while you are at it, here’s a pro tip: Shut your eyes and shut your ears; shut your mind and shut your fears, and try to remember the first time you entered a playground, the first time you ever ran a race, the first time your PT teacher tried to define sports for you. The details will be obviously fuzzy, but it wouldn’t be too out of place if the sketch somehow corroborates to the maniac, incredible, inexhaustible Sunday that just went by. Breathe.

How do you smile after a game that you have not really lost? The differentiation between New Zealand and England, twice, was marginal. A freak overthrow, ricocheting off Ben Stokes, and a run-out by just a yard, decided the game. And of course, there was also the boundary count after two ties in the span of 30 minutes. An athlete can prepare for fitness and technical requirements, for conditions and opponents, but can he/she really prepare for such psychological duress?

Cynics will argue it comes with the territory. Well then, so does anger, frustration, annoyance, et al. And here was this man, smiling, shrugging, joking even, being endearingly witty, and distributing life wisdom in a moment of gut-wrenching, soul-crushing, heart-burning defeat.

Guess it is in New Zealand’s very fabric. You trust Jimmy Neesham when he holds a low catch and points a finger to say out. You trust Trent Boult when he steps on the rope trying an outlandish catch and Martin Guptill signals a six instead. You trust none of them to say a word when the ball races down to the boundary, unfairly ricocheting off Stokes, who holds up his arms apologetically. (Lest you forget, Stokes was born in Christchurch, New Zealand.)

Even at that ripe age, Williamson was the very definition of humility, and it is no surprise to see him rise in stature.

If only, all of us had Zen-like powers as Williamson does to absorb such a loss, sleep over it and move on. “Everyone is different and that’s the beauty of this world. And everyone should be a little different as well,” he said, that smile breaking into laughter.

How was this happening? In defeat, you want to search a haunting, disconsolate expression. Or, maybe it was just an inane reading of one’s own mind space at this outcome, with the urge to go hug him, and each of the players in that New Zealand dressing room.

They did not lose; they simply ended up on the wrong side of what is right as per cricket’s weird logic and rules. Of course, there is this burning urge to remedy this situation, but you cannot. And what’s worse – any attempt to rectify it is only gross injustice to New Zealand’s efforts.

It is a depressing reality, this result and this situation, albeit you have to live with it.

And New Zealand will too; for this team imbibes the very character and soul of their leader, Kane Williamson, who is the very best, cricket has to offer.