There is a confounding piece that has been doing the rounds of social media. It came from Naveen-ul-Haq, who put it up on Instagram following the win against Australia, and other Afghanistan players wasted no time sharing it on their handles. Half the image showed one man in empty stands with the word "support"; the other had a stadium full of fans with the word "congratulations".
Afghanistan are one of the most loved cricket teams in the world. Their cricketers are highly sought-after by franchises. Seven of the XI that beat Bangladesh to make the semi-final of T20 World Cup 2024 played in this year's IPL, and another was in a squad without getting a game. Why, then, this anger - or is it a mild lament? - that evidently resonated among the whole group?
Then again, what do we really know about the support they might need?
Can we imagine preparing for our first Test at a makeshift "home" in another land and learning how one of our team-mates back home is helping carry half-dead and dead people to ambulances because terrorists had attacked the "peace" cricket tournament held during Ramadan?
Or the strife and chaos and refugee crisis that has followed the sudden departure of American troops? And can we imagine the resentment they must feel when one of the USA's political allies refuses to play Afghanistan in bilateral cricket?
When recently asked if his son is playing cricket too, a former Asian cricketer told me it's not possible for children from his part of the world to reach the highest level. They just haven't seen enough strife. That's the perverse part of sport in the colonised world. Some of the best sportspeople tend to become who they are only because desperation pushes them that extra mile, be it cricket in Asia or football in Africa and South America.
For, on the field, we are all the same. That is also the lure of the sport. This is the only place where the ravaged Afghans can be the equals of those representing the countries that have done the ravaging, even if for just three-and-a-half hours. At the same time, there is no allowance made for being cricketers in exile having half an eye back home on their loved ones. Runs and wickets are the only currency. If the runs and the wickets don't come, people move on pretty quickly. You are just a piece of content. Where's the next rags-to-riches story?
Afghanistan have refused to be just a piece of content that people dust off every once in a while. They have continued to produce highly skilled cricketers.
Do you know how some Indian cricketers and support staff judge how good the balls are for a particular tournament? If Fazalhaq Farooqi is not moving them in the air, you can forget about moving them.
Not just highly skilled cricketers, but highly skilled professionals. It flows from the top. Rashid Khan is as competitive a man as any in this sport. He practically lives his life in hotel rooms, relying on friends he has made everywhere, but makes sure he stays physically and mentally fit, and as professional as possible. The best T20 batter in the world, Suryakumar Yadav, says Rashid is the best bowler in the world. Perhaps outside Jasprit Bumrah, whom he never faces in a match.
It's not just all heart. Rahmanullah Gurbaz is the batting version of Trent Boult in T20s. He loves to charge at bowlers in the first over of the innings and hit them for boundaries. Against Australia in Kingstown, though, he knew the pitch was going to help spin and quickly assessed it to reconfirm the notion that he didn't really need to hit too many boundaries. He scored the slowest of his 28 fifties that night. Against Bangladesh, he wore blows on the body but didn't panic, hitting just one boundary in 55 balls.
The Afghanistan captain reflects on the victory against Bangladesh and their qualification for the T20 World Cup semi-finals
In fact, the whole match Afghanistan played against Australia was a tactical masterclass, be it the assessment of conditions when batting, or giving the first over to Naveen, not just for the first time this World Cup but in a year-and-a-half.
If Gurbaz has excelled by taking the emotion out of it, Gulbadin Naib knows he does his best when he lets his emotion run wild. Ridiculed during the 2019 World Cup, when he was the captain, he still fronted up: opening the batting, bowling the death overs. His two biggest players, Rashid and Mohammad Nabi, had openly protested his ascent then.
Open protests are not even an issue with the Afghans. Rashid threw his bat in disgust at Karim Janat the other night when the latter refused to come back for a second run, but at the end of it all, Janat was the first to rush to Rashid while the rest celebrated more flamboyantly.
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Now Naib is still giving his best for Rashid. Even at pretending to cramp. Nabi is still there. He can take the new ball against two right-hand openers and bowl through the powerplay. Against India, he did so without conceding a boundary to a right-hand batter.
That little bit of luck has smiled on them too. They found themselves in the low-scoring conditions of Kingstown for two crucial matches. The closer the conditions get to standard T20 ones, the more the chance of their batting coming out too light. The conditions are not in their control. They just responded to what was given to them.
The joy and celebrations this run has produced back home in Afghanistan is incredible. The photos of tens of thousands of people out on the streets of a war-torn country are life-affirming. The sobering part is that only men are seen celebrating. The cricketers must also carry the burden of being part of that one sport that the ones who are ravaging them now can use to validate their rule. It is an impossible tightrope they must walk: do whatever they can for the women but without being seen to be making a public statement about it.
And amid all this, find a way to stay professional and skilful and slightly lucky as they continue one of the great runs in tournament cricket.