Half an hour after Sachin Tendulkar had performed the last rites, Carl Hooper came to the press conference wearing the expression of a man attending a loved one's wake. In many ways, that must have been how he felt. During the initial phase of his career, Hooper played alongside some of the finest cricketers to ever don the maroon cap. Now, his compatriots include some not even worthy of cleaning the shoes of Vivian Richards, Michael Holding and Gordon Greenidge. We didn't play cricket, said Hooper in a depressed monotone. They certainly didn't, and they haven't now - outside the Caribbean - for over half a decade. Since that watershed series loss at home to Australia in 1995, West Indies have played 40 Tests on foreign soil, losing 30, most of them comprehensively - the saga of shame including 5-0 hammerings in South Africa and Australia. They have won just six, the last of any significance coming against Australia at Perth in 1996-97, with the series already lost.

Reams have been written about the Indian team's inability to buy a series win overseas but compared to Hooper's ragtag bunch, Sourav Ganguly's troops are SAS standard. Though they lost in the West Indies and could only draw in England, they at least looked competitive, winning the odd Test and getting into positions to win others. West Indies, by contrast, are as competitive as the Bums of the Month Mike Tyson used to fight. And they have as much heart as Andrew Golota, which isn't saying much.

Hooper now presides over arguably the worst Test team in the world, not counting Bangladesh who are below Kanga league standard. Zimbabwe were beaten in India a few months ago, but they showed considerable grit and determination. All this team has shown is complete lack of application and total inability to adjust to conditions that are alien, but hardly unplayable. Hooper admitted as much, when he said he had played on far worse pitches in India.

Two pictures, both involving Mervyn Dillon, told the story of this match and series. When he came out to bat, with Harbhajan Singh on a hat-trick, seven fielders crowded around the bat, some close enough to smell his after-shave. If a photographer clicked that, he could easily label it, View to a Kill.

It was only India's third series victory against West Indies, almost a quarter century on from their last, against a Packer Series-weakened side in 1978-79. By some twist of fate, the decisive Test match in that series was at this very venue, with Gundappa Vishwanath's magnificent 124 to the fore in a three-wicket victory. Harbhajan was again outstanding, albeit against some of the most inept players of spin he will ever face, while the catch that Parthiv Patel took down the leg side was confirmation of a talent that will be around long after some of us trade word processor for beach umbrella.

Only the collision between Anil Kumble and Ganguly dampened spirits in the stands, with its echoes of the sickening one between Steve Waugh and Jason Gillespie in Colombo three years ago. As for Zaheer Khan, who will play no further part in tormenting West Indies, he signed off with the delivery of the day, a beauty that nipped back and trapped Ramnaresh Sarwan plumb in front. You have to feel for Sarwan, who has now crossed fifty 14 times, without glimpsing three figures. He's like the man who got to the princess's balcony only to be shoved down by the guards.

The roof threatened to come off once again when Virender Let-Me-Entertain-You Sehwag came out to bat. His turbo-charged 33 got the sort of ovation once reserved for double-hundreds, with one six hit thudding into a beam on the stadium roof. He has oceans of time and confidence, as he illustrated when – after thumping Gareth Breese for six first ball – he charged down the track, found himself not to the pitch and played an almost casual late-cut.

The crowd lapped it up - though they're generally a knowledgeable (many of them quote facts and figures with a perfunctory air that suggests the presence of several Wisden Almanacks on the bookshelf) and sober sort – and allowed hysteria to get a grip each time he marked his guard. It was just a pity that, in a match sponsored by an automobile battery manufacturer, one team couldn't find a single spark of inspiration.

As for the second Dillon freeze frame, it happened as he was about to bowl the first ball of the Indian innings. A dog ran on and gambolled around for a minute or two before scampering off. Some of the West Indians didn't look amused. Perhaps they were remembering the Al Pacino – John Cazale classic, Dog Day Afternoon, about a couple of bunglers and a heist that goes as wrong as can be. These guys certainly know that DDA feeling.

Dileep Premachandran is assistant editor of Wisden.com in India.

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