Sheer Delight

It could have been any major athletic event. Any sport.

Which one in particular does not matter.

What does matter is that the recently completed England vs India cricket series is nothing short of an all time classic.

Five enthralling test matches. Seven weeks of spine tingling, unrelenting drama. Topsy turvy, full of twists and turns, tension, grinding pressure, and momentum shifts. Bucket loads of courage, breathtaking skill, never say die attitude, resilience, on display.

For me at least, sleep deprived due to watching live television coverage through the wee hours of too many west coast Canadian mornings, it is compulsive viewing.

In the end, capacity crowds at Headingley, Edgbaston, Old Trafford, Lord’s, and the Oval, revel in the non-stop action. Relish the pure theatre, the subplots. So many others around the globe equally absorbed, watching two sides, like fearless prize fighters, trade blow after blow. A finish eventually locked at two wins apiece, the other contest ending in a draw.

Batters combine to score over 7,000 runs. Register an incredible 21 centuries, 100 or more runs scored by an individual in an innings very much a rare, gold standard.

As is the case in the previous four, the final test requires a fifth day of play. England, up 2-1, in control, firmly in the driver’s seat. Need only 35 more runs to secure victory. Both teams riddled with injury, the demands and exertions of an exhausting series exacting a heavy physical and mental toll. Still, regardless of extreme fatigue, various broken bones, strains and dislocations, the players soldier on.

What follows is remarkable. A chaotic, one-hour cameo that wonderfully sums up an entire series.

Led by plucky and tireless pace bowler Mohammed Siraj, India retains no more than a slim hope of an unlikely win. Yet England, thanks to some rash batting decisions, quickly loses two vital wickets. In desperate straights, eventually require the injured Chris Woakes to enter play. To face a hard, heavy cricket ball hurtling towards him at terrifying speed. His left arm, heavily wrapped, held in a sling under his sweater to protect a badly dislocated shoulder.

Regardless, England edges towards the necessary run total. In a nail-biting climax, the 35-run deficit reduced to 20, to 15, to 12, and then to 6. One home run type swing away from gaining at least a tie. Woakes spared having to face an actual ball from Siraj, but in obvious distress when having to run between the wickets.

Finally, with excitement at a fever pitch, Siraj, eyes burning bright, delivers the dagger. A sizzling, 90 mile an hour delivery detonates the off stump to claim the last required wicket.

No fairy tale finish for England. Instead, a jubilant India claims its

narrowest test win ever. Shares the newly minted Anderson-Tendulkar trophy.

Without doubt, sport always has a way of drawing out the magic in life.

Certainly, I support my favourite teams and preferred sports. But I do not own the teams, do not make money from them, do not really know the players, even if I do often spend an inordinate amount of time watching them on screen. And so, for well nigh two months this summer, from various stadiums around Britain, I witness the extraordinary.

Perhaps most importantly, whether attending games live, or like me and millions of others watching from afar, it is about people coming together.

For, if actual results soon fade into relative insignificance, left will be fans who love their teams for reasons including geography and family tradition. Who exhibit city, provincial or national pride, who seek a sense of belonging. Those fans, friends and strangers alike, who might live differently, vote differently, pray differently, follow different life paths, but still share a special link.

For all of us, sport provides an opportunity to block out all the noise, strife, and heaviness of the world. A chance to observe a spark of light, to feel palpable energy in the air, to remember what joy actually feels like.

Indeed, for minutes, hours, days, even weeks, all can experience how marvellous it feels to smile, to unite, to be genuinely happy.

Embrace this pure magic. Sport a platform, a reminder, that even in the extreme messiness of life, rife with its dishonesty, greed, immorality, criminality, and rampant inequality, there is still so much good going on.

Sport the tonic. In this particular case, the cricket is not just good, but beautiful.

And, in a world currently in flames, we can all use a little more beauty, connection, faith, and optimism.

A little more sheer delight. Now that is worth celebrating.