The day before the World Cup final, the giant stadium in Ahmedabad is cavernous. When nobody is there, its emptiness only emphasises its size. It rises up on all sides, seats burning bright orange in the sun. White-clad kids on the turf rehearse flag choreography while the PA rolls music around vacant concrete canyons. A day later, all of these seats are supposed to be full and for the visiting Australians it will be an exercise in withstanding intimidation.
, when the similarly vast MCG had more than 93,000 people show up. Gold clothing heavily outnumbered black that day. New Zealand wilted. This crowd will be even more intense, more uniform in its uniforms, a blue sea where the only distinction between shirts will be Virats or Rohits at a ratio of roughly nine to one.Even in Australia’s rich World Cup history – entering their eighth final with five wins – they have faced nothing like this. In 1975, in the genteel environs of Lord’s, the tournament was a new curiosity and West Indies were yet to become world beaters. Beating England in 1987 came in Kolkata, foreign to bot