The Surfer

Dhoni had spoken about peaking at the right time at the start of the tournament and he was as good as his word on the last day of the mega event. It took a great chase to neutralise Jayawardene's century and India were worthy champions in a final that did credit to a well-organised tournament.

As Malinga performed an exultant celebration, even as far as deep square leg, the crowd was stunned into disbelieving silence. Men held their heads in their hands, women put hands over mouths as if they had seen a ghost. On the big screen, they played replay after replay as if hoping that eventually he might middle the ball and send it skimming through the covers. But it always went to Sangakkara.

In India the tournament has captured the imagination of the public just as vehemently as the Indian Premier League has done in recent years. Every India game has been a sell-out and even those matches not involving the hosts have been well‑attended. The commercial partners have got their money's worth, so, too, the TV companies, who have been able to hike their advertising rates. So that keeps an awful lot of money men happy. No doubt they will be angling for a two-month competition next time.

Worst run-chase...South Africa not even getting close to the 222 they needed to beat New Zealand in the quarter-final and losing by 49 runs.

Where there are big-picture challenges facing the game - such as privatisation, the place of T20, a rusty player-development structure and administration, and challenges to popularity, ratings and revenue - internet forums, letters to editors, and some media have found an easy, and sometimes too obliging, target in Clarke.

Indeed, I can't help thinking that a captain who has endured a few real-life problems might be able to assist his young teammates with more than just a few tips about their front-foot defence. And, as much as we revered the win 'em and wear 'em toughness of Allan Border, Steve Waugh and Ricky Ponting, maybe the time has come for a sensitive Gen Y skipper.

Dhoni has a great chance to become the first captain to lift a World Cup at home but there’s another, slightly more quirky, statistic which many may not be aware of: Dhoni may become the first World Cup winning captain to go through a whole campaign without a single half-century. But it won’t matter. One of the most forgotten stats from 1987 is that Border made 183 runs in 8 World Cup games, with just one fifty, at an average of 22.87. His only half-century was against Zimbabwe.

It's the batsman who has made more runs than anyone against the bowler who has taken more wickets than anyone … If only because he has about a billion people barracking for him as against Sri Lanka's 20 million … Tendulkar is under significantly more pressure.

The stage is set for a triumph of a magnitude that even his [Tendulkar’s] adoring scriptwriters could not have imagined. He has the opportunity to score his 100th international century in the World Cup final in his home town, Mumbai, in the month of his 38th birthday against the world's greatest bowler. Wherever he is, even Don Bradman will take his hat off if that happens.

Kirsten is a tough man, but he is also the kind who is quick to put an arm around your shoulder ... You hear them [the India players] talking about him as though he were a friend more than a coach, which is very telling ... Tendulkar tried the captaincy and decided it was not for him, but still contributes so much to the team on and off the field. When he gives advice to MS Dhoni … he does not wave his arms around just to show the crowd that he is still making decisions, but just walks up and has a quiet word in the captain's ear.

He [Dhoni] is a model of good body language on the field. Watch him when a catch is dropped. He does not mutter to himself or stare at the grass. He holds his head high and puts his hands on hips, almost as though he did not notice it happen. The message he is sending the players is "OK, let's move on and get on with it."

Yograj has grand designs for his children. Zorawar, Yuvraj’s younger brother, must go to Hollywood. “If he does some body-building, I see him becoming the next Arnold Schwarzenegger. If he is willing to train under me, he can be in Hollywood in four years,” Yograj said in a TV interview in 2007, when Yuvraj had just returned home from India’s World T20 triumph. Yograj also wants his seven-year-old daughter, Amarjot, to become Serena Williams. “I don’t want her to be a Sania Mirza. I want her to be Serena Williams, a Wimbledon champion—the best in the world.” A few years ago, he wanted Yuvraj to marry “someone of the calibre of Steffi Graf”. Call it genetic powerplay.

Like foot soldiers being held accountable for the failure of military strategy, Graeme Smith and his players face the guns alone while the generals sit behind teak desks in oak-panelled offices. There is no apparent accountability among the most senior of Cricket South Africa (CSA) executives. The chief executive, Gerald Majola, recently celebrated his 10th anniversary in the job (a press release was even issued to commemorate the occasion) while the executive board dutifully supports and endorses his every decision.

India owed their victory more to the mistakes of their opponents than to any inspiration of their own. It was a day of graft and gruel. But it was not only the pitch. It was a semi-final of a World Cup. Glory was so near and so far. And the chance might not come again.

They have had their thin-ice days during the cup, but this time, with what seemed like most of Asia looking on, they hung on as Pakistan failed to grasp a wonderful opportunity. Pakistan's botched job leaves Sri Lanka as the only team between India and glory; of preventing MS Dhoni following the great Kapil Dev as the second Indian to lift the trophy.

Between its spectators and commentators, Indians have ruined cricket for everybody. With the growth of our economy, this has got worse. Indian money has been poured into cricket, sloshing in its crevices, spilling out of its guts.

Their [the India fans] deafeningly joyous dementia made pub celebrants of an England World Cup goal look like effete theatregoers politely clapping the interval curtain at a performance of one of Strindberg’s lighter comedies of manners.