This is one of those stories that in spite of being a tad too simplistic, gains a good level of respect for its plain damn sincerity. Arjun, at 36, decides to revive his previously shattered dreams of being a cricketer for the national team. It’s been 10 years since that loss of his. This is a story of him bouncing back, and if you can accommodate the seen-before underdog movie tropes, the character’s desperation will speak to you.

I must admit that I was initially feeling disconnected with the film because of its formulaic strokes, but that feeling was broken by this very scene. It happened to be one of those classic I-didn’t-know-how-much-I-needed-this situations. This scene of triumph and celebration is unexpectedly private, but understandably so. You’d expect him to storm and embrace his well-wishers first, but self-love is as important too. It is a well-deserved (an understatement) moment of confidence in a story where Arjun has only been rubbing off his suffering on everyone around him. But this… This is his win. He needs this for himself first. This moment alone took the film from an okay-ish to a goosebumps-inducing zone for me.

Nani isn’t a powerhouse as such, but his subdued act only enhances this outburst. Shraddha Srinath adds immense value to a role that had all the makings to be vilified for being the “annoying one”, but she always makes us see where she’s coming from in her arguments. I also owe most of my enjoyment with this film to Anirudh’s terrific background score and songs, which are powerful equivalents to Arjun’s fist pumping in thin air. Every single track of his works.

Jersey, like any other well-done masala film, shows how honest emotions aren’t any less than intellectual depth – the lack of which is the default point of criticism on simplistic storytelling.