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On 30th October, I saw the captain in the dugout, close to tears as her teammates inched closer and closer to winning the world cup semi-finals against Australia. I saw the scorecard that bought the team closer to the historic win. I saw the final boundary, the palpitations, the running to the pitch, the hoorahs. Most of it was a standard reaction to winning against a formidable foe, winning for the team that always choked. What stood out was tears. The warriors were in tears and I freaking loved it! My cricket crazy partner came in hot with the offhanded comment ‘oh ha ha everyone is crying’ the expected yorker got smashed with ‘ that’s just how many women express themselves’.
The trend continued with the post game interviews around emotions, managing emotions, digging into team emotions, anxiety, strength, spirituality, gratitude, trust and joy. Cricket for India comes with a crushing legacy, norms and expectations that have been painstakingly built with blood, sweat ,and tears. It’s an institution. The ground expects stoic and celebrates the aggressive, the crowd loves the boyish charm in measured doses and reels in the playful when it goes a bit too far. Seeing this very space taken over by the women was phenomenal. They communicated between the wickets, they grounded each other and then they did what women do when they win. The giggling and sobbing, the impromptu open conversation on mental health, the singing and dancing, the sisterhood, the vulnerability, and the courage to be themselves on the hallowed cricket ground was breathtaking.
For the first time in my 30 years of being a fan, I imagined myself running to the pitch from the pavilion, I could almost smell the grass, feel the crowd, lose myself in the moment. Apparently, men do this all the time, they see themselves as part of the celebration. As a woman, I could never even begin to imagine being in that manly hullabaloo. That limitation is suddenly gone, now I can live vicariously with the Indian cricket team, daydreaming about being carefree on the cricket ground. The cast is flipped and now the main characters feel like a tribe.
Much like laughter that eases pressure, tears are the way for the body to cool down. Its simple human reaction. It’s been missing from the narratives so far, relegated to being a symbol of disappointment and loss. Afterall, real men don’t cry freely (they should be able to). Yesterday, I cheered for the team with tears in my eyes and for once I didn’t care to hide them. The warriors were in tears and I felt like one of them. Now when I cry everyday working on my thesis, I will know in my heart that this is what heroes do. That’s what happens when women win, feminine feelings are seen.