Remember the 1999 series ‘Futurama’? In an episode, one of the cast members on the fictional soap opera All My Circuits malfunction, leading to an open casting call for child actors.  

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Bender makes Tinny Tim, a young orphan robot, believe that he could have a shot at the role, only for Tim to realise that Bender is actually auditioning. After Tinny Tim realizes that Bender has no intention of helping him, he says You raised my hopes and dashed them quite expertly, sir. Bravo! 

Such were the emotions of the fans present in Arun Jaitley Stadium on Friday.

In the world of sports, hope is a powerful emotion. It can lift spirits, fuel belief, and bring thousands together in shared anticipation. But when dashed, it can leave an unshakable void, one that echoed through the Arun Jaitley Stadium on a crisp Friday morning. 

The excitement had been brewing since dawn. Fans lined up outside the stadium as early as 6 AM, eager to catch a glimpse of their hometown hero, Virat Kohli. The energy inside the ground was palpable as Delhi’s innings unfolded, with every dismissal bringing them closer to the moment they had all been waiting for. 

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At 10:31 AM, that moment arrived. 

As Yash Dhull fell lbw to Rahul Sharma, a roar erupted from the Bishan Singh Bedi stand. Not in celebration of the wicket, but in anticipation of the man who was about to step onto the field. When Kohli emerged from the pavilion, the entire stadium stood as one, a sea of applause and chants of “Kohli! Kohli!” reverberating through the air. The sheer intensity of the ovation was deafening. It wasn’t just about watching a cricketing great—it was about witnessing a homecoming, a potential masterclass in the making. 

Kohli took his guard and faced his first ball. A yorker from Rahul, which he looked to flick but missed. The next delivery, a full ball angled across him, saw his bottom hand come off the bat as he attempted a drive—nervous signs from a man known for his supreme confidence.

The crowd, however, remained undeterred. Every run he scored was met with loud applause, each defensive stroke welcomed with encouraging cheers. When he finally broke the shackles with a fierce straight drive past Sangwan, a boundary that rattled the sightscreen, the stadium erupted once more. This was it. This was the moment. 

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Hope swelled in the stands. Could today be the day? Could this be the innings that reminded everyone of Kohli’s brilliance in whites? 

But cricket, much like life, can be cruel. 

At 10:54 AM, just 23 minutes after he walked in, that hope was crushed. 

Sangwan steamed in again, angling the ball in from outside off. Kohli, looking to drive expansively, moved too far forward. The inward movement and low bounce deceived him completely. In an instant, the off-stump was sent cartwheeling. 

A collective gasp swept through the stadium. And then, silence. Absolute silence. 

Kohli stood there for a second, staring at the wreckage, playing an imaginary defensive stroke in the air, perhaps wondering if a straighter bat could have saved him. But it was too late. As Sangwan, a Najafgarh native and former Delhi squad member, celebrated wildly, Kohli trudged back to the pavilion. 

Disbelief settled over the crowd. One by one, fans began to leave, their hope shattered. Some faithfuls, however, lingered near the dressing room balcony, chanting his name four more times, unwilling to let go of the moment. 

Hope, after all, never truly dies. Even when it disappoints, it finds a way to bring people back. And maybe, just maybe, they’ll return for another chance to witness the magic that once seemed inevitable.