Thread by @karachikhatmal

Given we're all back in 1992, I wanted to share a story about that year, the World Cup final in particular.

[thread]

I was 8 when the World Cup happened, and was immediately enthralled by it. The timings meant I was often at school for the day matches, and the night match I remember most vividly was vs England when we were bowled out for 72. I remember imagining playing a match in which...

I helped defend that target. Thankfully rain intervened IRL.

Khair, no one in my family was into cricket. Abu was a hockey person, Ami had a passing interest, grandparents didn't care and siblings were all toddlers.

Nevertheless I was glued to every bit of action I could catch.

Pakistan ofc made it to the final. That day, NOBODY went to school or office.

Well almost nobody. My parents went to work and I was sent to school.

But most parents had thought otherwise, and there were only like 25 kids across all the classes who made it to school that day.

All the teachers had shown up, but given that each class had a handful of kids each, they gave into fate/their own fandom and took all of us to the library and turned on the match.

Now as a class 3 student, this was already turning out to be an EPIC day. No classes and spending the entire day watching TV because the adults allowed you to! Already this was a historic day.

Khair, all of us were pretty young and didn't know much about cricket.

We were just cheering for every run, every block even. As Miandad and IK began what was actually a laborious partnership, we started going crazy. The teachers kept shushing us but it wasn't like usual. They were nervous about the match, and lacked their usual discipline.

As the innings neared its final stage, IK and JM belatedly looked to up the ante. For us kids, it was more than enough to start going absolutely nuts.

The teachers were now getting irritated. The shushing was getting more serious. Threats of being sent out of the library etc.

We would shut up each time but then any run would resume the cheering, & if it was a boundary the teachers would hold back from disapproving.

Khair things came to a head, and by this time we were in a carnivalesque stage, and the teachers felt they needed to put an end to it.

At one point, my class teacher Ms Shehnaz walked in front of the TV, blocking our view, and threatened that one more peep and the match was off.

Now if we can digress here for a bit, for kids in classes 3-6 (which all of us were), class teachers are next in line to God & parents

They are one of the first adult authorities you encounter, the first outside the family circle, and you learn to look to them for approval, permission, and anything else. They shape the world you live in, the limits they set are the limits of your experience.

So despite the surreal magic of that day so far, when Ms Shehnaz raised her voice and blocked our views, we knew shit was getting serious. But at the same time, we were in a state of delirium. This day had been like NO OTHER. Who would we listen to? Our feelings or authority?

As soon as Ms Shehnaz walked away from the TV, another big shot (could well have been a lofted stroke for one) happened, and in what was a foretelling of how Pakistani fandom resists all logic, we couldn't help but ignore the recent threats and started making a ruckus once more.

Well, the teachers knew that if they let us get away with it now, it would cause irreparable damage to their authority and our desire to obey them. This was a situation that could undo the school's social fabric.

Ms Shehnaz moved swiftly and without hesitation, moving in front of the TV and shutting it off.

Instantly, silence.

Suddenly, with the match gone, us kids realised we were back into the mundane world of school again and the teacher was once more our proverbial god.

Ms Shehnaz, as expected, now launched into an angry tirade about discipline and listening to your elders and learning to control yourselves. Kafi deyr tak sunayi.

We all gulped and looked to the floor and tried to restrain our insatiable desires to put the TV back on.

But Ms Shehnaz was lapping up this moment.

"Ab phir se koi shorr karay ga?!"

We all shook our heads. A few lame "sorry miss" were heard. Everyone held their breaths.

She put the TV back on.

The first thing we saw as the screen flickered back into life was...

...Javed Miandad, his helmet in his hands, one arm wiping his brow, mournfully walking back to the pavillion.

There was an audible gasp all around.

For us kids, all we knew was we'd lost a wicket. That was bad news.

But for the teachers, the adults, they knew what this meant.

Miandad was our great batting hope. He'd spent the past decade and change leading all our charges. He had just guided us through our first semi-final win after three losses at that stage.

Losing Miandad was a DISASTER.

And the adults, especially Ms Shehnaz, knew that.

I will never forget what happened next, even though it happened within seconds.

Ms Shehnaz puts on the TV.

Ms Shehnaz sees Miandad is out.

Ms Shehnaz gasps and BURSTS INTO TEARS.

Like loud, heaving sobs.

The other teachers surround her and lead her to the staff room.

Please try and put this into perspective. Adults, especially teachers, are NEVER weak in front of a kid's eyes.

To see them CRYING is absolutely mindblowing.

To see one crying because someone got out in a match was a moment that changed my perspective on cricket forever.

At that moment, I knew that cricket wasn't like most things in Pakistan. Cricket was this fascinating exception that led to classes being cancelled and adults crying like babies.

The biggest thing that hit me was that Pakistani fans (and I guess others too) believed that their actions could impact the game.

I'll never forget how all the teachers kept saying "Shehnaz its NOT your fault" as they led her away.

Ms Shehnaz was an absolute wreck. She didn't come out of the staff room until it was time for us to go home.

For us, Inzi and Wasim's late blitz meant we soon forgot about Ms Shehnaz.

By the evening with all of us at home, Pakistan had won.

The world was never the same again.