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Robson Sharuko Senior Sports Editor
IT rained in Harare, as had been predicted by the meteorologists the previous day, a freak lunch-time thunderstorm bringing to a premature end the United Arab Emirates innings in their final ICC Cricket World Cup Qualifier match. In that pounding rain, they still found a voice to sing and the rhythm to dance in the stands, already packed by the biggest crowd to watch a cricket match in this country in history, a people who believed this was their date with destiny and no amount of hostility from the weather conditions could dampen their spirits.

The colour, the beauty, the joy, the outpouring of patriotism, the great expectations, different races, different tribes, different languages all united in this one wall of humanity united in its mission to try and inspire their players to make one final giant leap for a place at the ICC Cricket World Cup in England and Wales next year.

An outdoor festival of happiness, and great expectations, in that pouring rain — some had even taken off their shirts — a people at peace with themselves, a nation united by this relentless quest for a place at the Promised Land.

A special place where they had been regular guests since 1983, at a tournament ironically held in England, a place where Duncan Fletcher and his pioneer band of Chevrons shook the globe with a stunning win over Australia in the country’s first World Cup dance exactly 35 years ago.

A very special place where in 1999, again in England, Henry Olonga’s raw pace helped the Chevrons defend 252/9 and beat India by three runs at Grace Road in Leicester on May 19 that year with the fast bowler taking the last three Indian wickets at the cost of just three runs. And, where, 10 days later at the County Ground in Chelmsford, Neil Johnson turned on the style with both bat and ball, top-scoring for Zimbabwe with 76 and then taking 3/27 with the ball as the Chevrons dismissed a very powerful South African side for 185 en-route to winning the match by 48 runs.

The same South Africans who would later make the semi-finals where they needed only one run off four balls to beat Australia at Edgbastan, Birmingham, and reach the final only for a terrible run out which cost Allan Donald his wicket for the match to remain tied at 213 and the Aussies to advance by virtue of having had better results leading to this game.

As fate would have it, Lance Klusener — who at this ICC Cricket World Cup Qualifier would be sitting in the Zimbabwe dressing room as the batting coach — was one of the two players involved in that horrible mix-up with Donald in Birmingham to mess up a fine innings in which he had scored 31 from 16 balls, including four fours, and appeared to be taking his country into the final.

The Aussies, as if to rub salt into the wounds of the Proteas, went on to win the final and be crowned champions of the world.
Now, 21 years later, here we were, on home turf, having been handed the challenge to beat UAE and qualify for the World Cup, and a return to England next year, and our Chevrons have never been such box office attractions in this country as was the case that day at Harare Sports Club last week.

The authorities told us they had even resorted to locking the gates, because the stadium was full to capacity and could not take any more fans without endangering the safety of those already inside, and conservative estimates said there were more supporters locked outside than those who were inside that day.

And you are talking about 15 000 fans inside Harare Sports Club.
I was in the Delta Corporation corporate box, just adjacent the two main stands where all the singing and dancing was coming from, where the party was in full swing, having been invited by the blue-chip company’s marketing director Maxen Karombo to be one of his guests on this special occasion.

From that vantage point, I could see it all, the rain, the party, the expectant faces, a nation on the cusp of glory, a people united by this grand mission to qualify for the World Cup and who believed in their troops that this would be achieved without a lot of fuss.

Somehow the fixture planners and the gods of cricket had combined to come up with a script where the final game for the Chevrons would be the one that would decide their fate, our fate, their path to glory, our path to happiness.

Win and we were through to the World Cup in England and Wales next year, lose and we would open a window of hope for both Afghanistan and Ireland, tie and we would have to wait for another day.

And, somehow, the Emirates cricketers reserved their best for last, punching above their weight as they swung at every ball and piling on 235-7 in 47.5 overs by the time the heavens opened up and rain ended their innings prematurely.

Give it to them, for their gusty display which was an impressive demonstration of upholding the virtues of sportsmanship in a game where they had only their pride to play for, upholding the integrity of this game, and showing us that we needed to earn our World Cup ticket.

Today marks exactly a week after the events of that Thursday, when time appeared to stand still for us when Craig Ervine, having been dropped down the order, faced the final ball of a brutal 40-over chase in which we needed to score 230 and needed to hit it for six to send us through to England.

He isn’t a power-hitter, someone like Sikandar Raza, someone like Cephas Zhuwawo, someone like Solomon Mire or someone like Hamilton Masikadza, back in the days when he was still a devastating player in the top order, and Ervine’s two runs were not enough and our candle, whose flame had been struggling in the wind that came after that thunderstorm had passed, was blown out.

Seven days later, the pain inflicted by that disaster still defiantly refuses to go away, as if it happened just a few moments ago, and the arrival of this day brings back a flood of all the memories of that afternoon when everything just went against us.
“Couple days to reflect on the tournament and the pain is still very much there,’’ Brendan Taylor said on Twitter last Wednesday.

“We did a lot of things right throughout. The competitiveness from all teams was fantastic, the support was outstanding. Certain aspects need to be addressed by the @ICC moving forward #12teamtournament, at least.’’
At least, just like all of us, he still feels the pain and, at least, he isn’t walking away from this boulevard of our shattered dreams.
“Far from it. Still a lot more to give. No point moping around, pick yourself up and use it as motivation,’’ he said.

Only if it was as easy as that, only if the rains had not come down that day and we could have easily chased whatever target the Emirates had posted, only if Mire and Masakadza had not committed suicide, only if Taylor had not received the delivery of the tournament which got rid of him, only if Williams had not perished when well set.

Only if Raza had held on to that catch and we would have chased a lesser target and only if Jarvis had not been hit all over the park in the madness of that final over.
So many questions, so few answers and the pain just won’t go away.
And it rained in Harare yesterday, another afternoon thunderstorm, as if to remind us of that day last week when our World Cup dreams were washed away in such cruel fashion.