Of dancing in the aisles, local bands and an Australian victory

It was a day when the famous green and gold of the Australians took a battering. In the sultry Goan summer, the green withered to brown while the gold tarnished somewhat. Mind you, this was despite an intense run chase, one that the Aussies will remember for a time to come. That is how much people have come to expect of Steve Waugh's team. When the hosts made just 265, almost everyone believed that they were some 15-20 runs short of what would have been a reasonably safe score. And yet, the Australians were stretched to 48 overs, and lost six wickets in the process. Michael Bevan played a blinder, notching up 87 to his name, expending more red ink of the scorers and remaining unbeaten in the process.

Sachin Tendulkar should have been a bit more circumspect. If only Sourav Ganguly had gone on for a bit longer. If the usually steady Hemang Badani had not played a big heave and got himself in a complete mess... So many ifs and buts. Then again, it was also judgment day for the home side on the field. Not every victory can come from a batting performance that puts the opposition out of the game. The Indians had to lift themselves in the field, show somehow that they could defend a score that was eminently gettable.

And often great things are inspired by faith and support. The crowds gathered at the Jawaharlal Nehru Stadium were at no point short of enthusiasm. This was a crowd with a difference. One of the few locations in India where cricket has a rival for attention. Soccer will always be the first love of the people of Goa. If Churchill Brothers were to play a fixture in these parts, the interest would be no less, the passion perhaps more. With that in mind, one can easily understand what makes the cheering here more lusty, more organised thereby more effective than anywhere else.

Each stand had its own flavour, its trademark cheer. To the right of the press box, located at the southern end, the stands had a local band playing, drumming out the popular tunes at every break in play. When a wicket fell, when drinks were taken and indeed when a batsman reached a half century or century. Loud and strident to the point of being discordant, the band got people on their feet. And literally, rather than figuratively, there was dancing in the aisles.

At another part of the stands, a group of college girls had organised themselves into a cheerleading unit. Dressed in navy blue uniforms, the quintet bobbed, weaved, twirled and spun even as India slipped towards defeat.

And then the inevitable happened. The crowds that were so sporting, so lively and indeed so well disposed turned ugly. In the 47th over of the innings, the empty bottles began to be flung. Pepsi bottles, mineral water bottles, empty lunch boxes and missiles of various other shapes and sizes were mindlessly thrown from the stands. Fortunately, the boundary ropes were far enough away from the edge of the stands and no bottles managed to enter the field of play. Lensmen focussing hard on the dying moments of the game, found themselves in the line of fire and were forced to take evasive action. It's a pity really that a game seldom passes in India without some manner of bottle throwing. A disappointing end to what has been a memorable tour otherwise. Beginning on a sad note, with the death of Sir Donald Bradman, the Test series ended up being the perfect advertisement for the game - closely fought, full of personal highlights and nerve wracking finishes. The One-Day Internationals swung this way and that before Australia won the final game.