It’s been almost seven years now, but the memory is as fresh as ever.

It was five in the morning, and the TV was on at the lowest volume level possible in order to not wake anybody up. But VVS Laxman’s cover drive far, far away at the Adelaide Oval still sounded loud enough to me to rouse everyone in the vicinity.

This was actually Rahul Dravid’s match. Having scored a double century in the first innings, he remained unbeaten in the second, guiding India to its first Test victory in Australia in over two decades. But all these years later, the rest of the match has reduced to nothing more than a set of inconsequential facts and figures for me – Ponting’s double-ton, Agarkar’s heroics, Dravid’s mammoth effort, even the actual moment of victory. The only image that remains is the sight of Laxman on a gloriously sunny day, creaming the fast bowler to the mid-off boundary with minimal footwork. The sight of the seagulls on the ground being scattered by the shot, only served to accentuate how rooted to the spot the Australian fielders seemed as the ball sped past them.

Which invariably begs the question – why was I watching this in the first place? Could I really have been looking forward to the silky wrists of a genial Hyderabadi more than the actual moment of a historic Indian sporting triumph? What was I, a common fan, looking for in a televised sporting event, at the unearthly hour of five in the morning? After all, why do we watch sport?

An enduring cliche in response to this has been that ‘sport is a microcosm of life’. And as many enduring cliches, that might well be true. You see your daily struggles, your victories and defeats being enacted in front of your eyes. You speak from your own experience when you wish the young brat would put a price on his wicket, when you urge the hard-working bowler not to lose hope in the middle of a wicketless spell. And when things work out the way you hoped it would, you are gratified. And when they don’t, you are frustrated. Just like life. It might also explain why no two fans have the same opinions or the same favourite players. You bring your own personality, your own understanding of life into your appreciation of sport.

Personally, I know why I watch sport. It’s for those very human moments, when you can feel the gooseflesh all over you. When Nadal sinks to his knees after beating Federer in the deepening gloom of an English summer evening. When Steyn steams in against Tendulkar with a hostile sense of purpose and a vocal home crowd behind him. When Flintoff offers Brett Lee his hand immediately after a heart-wrenching Ashes loss at Headingley. When Ivanisevic finally lifts the Wimbledon trophy, after all those years.

…And yes, when Laxman uses those magical wrists of his.

In the end, I watch sport for the memories. Perhaps, that’s raison d’etre enough.

And perhaps, that’s also raison d’etre enough for this blog.