Four Quarters, Many Stories, And A 7-1 Scoreline

Black is not the colour of beginning. It is a stubborn dab from the wear and tear of continuity, of ups and downs; the colour of the pit bottom. It is a brilliant leveler. Black – the sound of anger gulped and worn. Black—the music of a protest registered. Black, the powerful silence of respect shown, which was how black was used on Sunday, on a hockey turf, in a mix of emotion, anger, respect, love and protest.

What exactly happened? Our cricket-loving nation doting on its Men in Blue cheered the favourites against arch rivals Pakistan. Venue: London. Separated by blue, were the other favourites, the Men in Blue, the other Men in Blue, coach Roelant Oltmans' promising men, who clashed with Pakistan in a Hockey World League semi final. Venue: London. The Indian Hockey squad mauled Pakistan 7-1, to soar in the pool table, far away from the hype and hyperbole of a sagging cricket contest, in one of the biggest wins against Pakistan.

Here, Indian hockey turned spectator for a while. It turned spectator to a dribble back home; a dribble of emotion, between hockey and cricket, as India, largely, played Pakistan collectively in two contests that became one, for the sake of pride. National pride, scooped from hockey, passed on to cricket, along with the blue, the blue of the jersey. To a different audience, to a different perception of blue, it is something the hockey fan dislikes.

Here, at the London turf, black and blue mixed well, in less noise, in the occasional bursts of pop Bhangra beats, cheers from London fans, referrals, and loads of patience. The squad wore black bands on their wrists and arms in a humble mark of solidarity and respect shown towards the brave men - men of the top Team India, the courageous jawans of the Indian Army. According to manager Jugraj Singh, the men in the squad wore black bands to support Indian soldiers and to show “that we love them and we are always there for them.”

The National Anthem played. The squad sang. Loud, proud and clear. As the camera rolled, horizontally, along the Indian side - a mix of experience and legs, the regular Hockey spectators noticed that Sardar Singh has improved in singing. His melody, even today, continues to be his jazba, his emotion for the nation and the sport, that moves up and down in his throat. India, the commentators whimpered, would go with a slow start. True but nearly miscalculated. Slow is steady. Slow is good for peaking. Slow is good for shattering the rival in precision. Slow is good when you wear black on the wrist to move the hockey stick. Slow is good in Malhars, hockey and monsoon.

Slow, like the movement of billowing monsoon clouds that swell the skies in Kerala, the recovering captain P R Sreejesh's home state, where the clouds shed the build up, a build up similar to Sreejesh's, which he holds behind his protective gear, screaming at himself, in self-appreciation and regret and anger-regret, in victory and defeat, between the muscle movement of making-country-proud and letting-India-down (which he said he did at Rio, 2016), between Malaysia and London; Delhi and Rio; between the first quarter and the last.

On Sunday, in London, the great Indian hockey story unfolded into a match its faithful spectators could “sit back and watch”. Really, “sit back and watch”. No clashing sticks. No veins swelling in temper at the midfield or the dug bench. No nail-biting moments. It was smooth operation. So smooth, there wasn’t a moment when Pakistan felt stunned. A game that was to be. A game that had to be against Pakistan. A perfect stage for Pro League. A “change in culture,” commentators said. Wrap your head around it. What culture? Who cares? The scoreboard said it all. The Netherlands. Tuesday. Netherlands. Europe. Orange.

Inching closer and closer, to the top of world hockey, India had slipped in Rio, to Belgium (the rising black in European hockey), it was a milestone India reached in four years, from the rock bottom, of rank 12, right at the edge of the slope, where coach Michael Nobbs and diet expert David John, with their efforts, stopped the ball from going down the well. Paraphrasing him, roughly: We (India) are where Pakistan was during our times. We are at the rock bottom. It takes time to improve. He had said. Back in 2011. Pune camp happened. London happened. Old story. New game.

Coach Harendra Singh. The coach. The silent, stubborn, dedicated Pitamah. Common Wealth Games. Semi Final. Jose Brasa. Pakistan. More Pakistan. Loss. Then victory against Pakisitan. Again and again. Promise. Harendra Singh. Dronacharya. Who? Both? One? 2011. Early 2000s. Left. Picked. Ignored. Taken.  Khandekar to Khandekar. Adrian to Sreejesh to Chikte. Pradeep Mor. Punjab. Coorg. Karnataka. Odisha. Manipur. Lakra. Injury. Recovery. Sprint. Old story. New game.

What has changed in Indian hockey? Roughly. Quick. Attitude, “character” (remembering Michael Nobbs, again) and a lot more, on and off field. Akash Chikte, pushed by an unpredictable event, captain and goalkeeper P R Sreejesh’s knee injury, on the the Sultan Azlan Shah Cup turf, in May, braved it under the bar, once again, on Sunday, warming up for Tuesday, making a brilliant save in the thirty-sixth minute. Sreejesh, on the other hand, on his way to recovery, contributed to the progress of juniors, while he was recovering. Mad man. Mad hero. Of the mad hockey fans.

Jugraj Singh, from the Dhyan Chand Stadium stands in 2012, where he cheered Sandeep Singh and the squad with the fans, kids and the Sardar, “Oye, Sardara” the Sikhs, sported a black band as the team manager.

Tushar Khandekar continues to speak more in action.

Bharat Chetri, the goalkeeper who would scream his jaws out at the only error in a 20-1 lead against Singapore in 2012, perhaps appears in Chikte's dreams, growling, like he had at defender Kothajit back then, at the Dhyan Chand Stadium, during the qualifiers, at every wrong reflex. Such is his influence and impact on players much younger, still.

Kothajit and Chinglensana stand tall, scripting inspiration for several aspiring players in Manipur. On Sunday, they played their game. Quietly. Like they do.

Manpreet Singh, whom Nobbs would tease for being "the baby" in the senior squad, back in 2011, has, tournament after tournament, matured in temperament, skills and presence, during the last six years, exercising grit and responsibility.

Some members of the current squad had impressed the senior side at the Junior World Cup held in Delhi, a few years ago. The colts were stunned by Pakistan. On the other hand, some senior members in the current squad have felt defeat in bitterly close proximity. Defeat, for them, has been overpowering, like the sweet blend of sweat and muscle relaxant. Defeat that gradually and eventually diffused into individual success stories, shaped and sharpened by the churning action in the Hockey India League. Edition to edition. Old story. New game.

The game against Pakistan, on 18 June, brought memories of this slow transformation in a stir of magnificent four quarters. It was a squeeze of every minute, in good and bad, of every match the squad has played on the blue turf. It was a game you could sit back through. Sit back and watch. A luxury for a hockey fan. He could point at the chinks in the Indian armour at leisure, not in anxious-driven huff and puff of history and present. Not any more. Old story. New game.

What has Indian hockey got between 2008 and 2017? The outlook. Who is fuelling this change? Players and coaches helped by administration, Hockey India. What has not changed? Its fans, who count each victory and defeat, patiently, as a step closer to the Olympic podium. And some errors. Few, fewer.

Hockey shoulders are strong shoulders. They can bear weight. A lot of weight; the weight of gold won and lost, of administration disasters, of styles, swapping styles, mixing styles, dry grassroots, the weight of 1982, of Chile, the weight of London, of that wrong pass, that squandered attack, that miss by a whisker, that drag flick stopped, of injuries and accidents that befell on careers and great sporting stories, of changes.

Hockey fans, the mad lot, the real mad lot, have patted the hockey shoulders, over the decades and generations, consistently. On Sunday, when Indian cricket-brokenhearts discovered that the hockey squad was beating Pakistan on the London turf, around the moment when Talwinder Singh doubled the advantage for his side, hockey fans had mixed feelings. Some laughed. Others sulked (concealing chuckles). Fun. Overall.

The close-knit Indian hockey fraternity welcomes fans. It has a big heart. But a bitter tongue. Fence sitters are judged. “These part time cheerers.” Celebs are entertained with caution. Dedicated reporters covering hockey respected. Always.

New fans are welcomed. But not without and before their self-inflicted audition on social media. New fans, like the news anchor, who tweeted he could not believe what was happening in hockey when he saw the squad bring home the third goal – rejected. The actor who congratulates hockey in consolation after sobbing over defeat in cricket – rejected.

The actor who said she switched to hockey from cricket – acknowledged by captain Sreejesh – ignored/rejected/eyes-rolled at, by fans. It is that simple.

Creativity in wrist work and foot work and creativity in congratulatory messages – gulped, like sweet and cooling lemon water. Babita Phogat, who tweeted the bulky two words “Hisaab Barabar” – invited huddles from her fans, many of them hockey fans. She hails from Pradeep Mor’s state. It made the fan-huddle with Phogat last longer.

Actor Sidharth Malhotra said he was "super proud" and wished the team "good luck" for the tournament (Malhotra, if he can accept a bandana and some tough field drills, would fit well in forward Shivendra Singh's role). Accepted as fan.

India dismantled Pakistan in style. In a statement. The target altered, shaking up the Canadian score board, after India sealed it with seven against one. Viren Rasquinha, cool and generous, applied the balm. He tweet-invited “Indian fans” to watch hockey as there was “lots to cheer”.

Rasquinha is right. He is more than right. He, like the other heroes the Indian hockey fan loves, has loads to cheer about.

Give hockey a shoulder. Don’t use it as a crying shoulder. If you are (still) doing that, use a handkerchief.

Watch India play against the great orange on Tuesday. Cheer. And remember, hockey fans celebrate defeat as well. Each defeat is a step ahead. Towards the podium.

Watch India play Netherlands on 20 June, 06:30 PM IST, on Star Sports