BD NarayankarMumbai, March 4 -- Mumbai's cricketing stage is set, and when pressure becomes poetry, it is usually the heartbeat of the game that speaks louder than the scoreboard, like a monsoon drum rolling across the Arabian Sea breeze.
The semifinal clash between India and England is not just a contest of bat versus ball - it is destiny knocking on the door wearing cricket whites.
Look at young Abhishek Sharma - cricket is sometimes a cruel teacher, but a beautiful philosopher. Form may have deserted him like a shadow disappearing in noon sunlight, three ducks fluttering like fallen leaves and most of his runs coming from one sparkling knock against Zimbabwe. But champions are not written by statistics alone; they are carved in the fur...