The Grandslam

10th October 2023. The date remains vivid as ever in my mind; 4 PM kickoff, overcast conditions, and a kind of ethereal exuberance at a potential future that lay ahead of us. The stage was set: a Juniors 1 match against Hyderabad, our biggest rivals in our pursuit of greatness. A win was needed, nothing else would be enough. Blue enveloped the pitch, cheering the most vicious and intimidating chants; however, pockets of green opened up on the sidelines, offering support and hope. The scenario was clear: it was the full school against us, the Eagles, for we were on the verge of unprecedented success. The first half was a blur, we struggled to grasp the situation we were in, and the job that was left to do ahead of us. Before we knew it, two goals had snuck past us. 2-0. We played a second half of desperation, of regret, of penance; we could not do better than 2-0. 2023 was not to be. 2024 built up in similar fashion. We were reinvigorated, determined to not let our momentum, our vision die out. Nobody expected us to win Cricket, especially as dominatingly as we did. Hockey was even more out of reach; our domination disproved that theory, as we swept aside every other house. Going into football season,we felt invincible. If a brush of bad luck had cost us greatness the year before, our stronghold over football would prove too strong for anyone else to break apart. We never built up the momentum that season; washouts and inconsistent performances proved to sound the death knell on our second grand slam year. At that point, few people (yours truly included) well and truly believed that we ‘could be third time lucky.’ We were likened to Arsenal for our so-called ‘bottling’ ( A statement which I, as a Chelsea fan, took to heart) and inability to win in matches where it well and truly mattered. This time, Cricket was a rout; we dominated our competitions in Mediums and Seniors. There was a different energy around the house; we were desperate not to let it all slip. The dives would be a bit more efforted along the boundary ropes, the runs would be taken a bit faster, balls were delivered with a sense of urgency; as if victory could not come soon enough. Even when murmurs were raised of a potential trinity being achieved by us, we were quick to dispel them. ‘Look at House A in Hockey, we stand no chance against them.’ ‘Look at N in Football, the Shield is too far out of reach this year.’ On the field, we never played with that mentality, because somewhere deep down inside, even though we never outrightly said it, we knew that we had the capability to take it all the way. A poor start to the Hockey season was brought to a halt by unforeseen circumstances, as we were all sent home. We had no idea whether we would even play Hockey again that year, so we devoted our full-fledged focus to the Shield. Something that had become a relic of the Jaipur House trophy cabinet, a pride of every boy clad in Green, had to be reclaimed; we had to win football. Emerging triumphant in the Juniors category and remaining competitive in both the Mediums and Seniors categories led us to finally win back the sport we cherished the most. We received confirmation; Hockey would happen, we would have another chance at redemption. Yet again, we were written off before the season could even start. A poor start where we could only muster up 42 out of the first 100 points on over essentially ruled us out of everyone's minds, including our own, to be honest. However, no matter how glum our calculations were, we saw a glimmer of hope. Claim as many points as possible, and maybe just maybe, ………………. . We did what we could: win our remaining matches. Thankfully, this set us up for another final-day set of deciders. Our day started earlier than most, with an afternoon H1 encounter against Hyderabad. 4-0 seemed more of a statement than a result, that we were waiting to be put in such a scenario, because this time, we were willing to fight for our dream. A stalemate in L1 and win in L2 led us to a defining match against Tata. A match which would define whether the efforts of our past three years had been in vain or were about to reach a crescendo. Whether the final whistle would be dreaded like those before, or celebrated like those envisioned for our future. The rest, as they say, is history. In a perfect world, we would have won all three years. We would not have felt the same heartbreak we did in ‘23 and ‘24. However, this version of the story feels more authentic; we lost, we learnt, we won. We felt every emotion there was to feel, and formed bonds on the pitch which could not have been made anywhere else. Perhaps most importantly, even THIS version had a happy ending.