Dear Harmanpreet and compatriots, may I first simply salute the quality of play you achieved in your unforgettable victory over a rather uppity Australian team the other day.

This was their first defeat after sixteen encounters – at your hands.

I was once a Ranji Trophy cricketer, even a captain, but truth to tell, I couldn't hold a candle to the standard you set in all departments of the game.

I could not have found a place in your team, because there is no one I could have replaced.

In batting, my blade was never as perpendicular as Mandhana's, my square-cutting as parallel to he ground as Jemimah's, my prowess in lifting the cherry out of the park with a forward push as consummate as yours or that of Richa, the destroyer.

In the bowling department, I may have been a good enough spinner, but hardly any better than Deepti, and in the matter of fielding about the same as most of you.

There was of course the victory after the chase – such as I had predicted to my fellow watchers to whom I had said that the Aussies would not be safe from your clout in a score below 350; but as you know, betting is not allowed, alas, or I might have made a month's badly needed groceries.

More than the victory was the verve and the joy in your heft and self-belief, minus the jingoism, thankfully.

So, again, recalling Old Casper in Alfred Lord Tennyson's poem The Battle of Blenheim, I will hear myself say till I last, "it was a great victory,"

Come tomorrow in your tryst with the Proteans, how can you not repeat your feat with ease and grace?

As you step out, leave behind them cuts and bruises, those hurtful bickerings from lesser mortals, the last of your self-doubt, and give us a day even more unforgettable than was the semi-final of the world cup.

We intend to watch with our tails up, our pride sky-high, and no need of prayers on our lips.

Team Harmanpreet, that has the Jemimah, the Mandhana, the Gaud, the Richa, the Shefali, the Deepti, the Amarjot and the Pratika wave to us from the peak that you are set to conquer.

We will wave back with everything we have got.

Excelsior, excelsior, we hold you dear.

Badri Raina taught English at Delhi University.

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