And so ends an impressively ­fatuous experiment: what happens when the best side in the world get the dice loaded in their favour? On a ­sultry night at the Dubai International ­Stadium, we got the entirely foreseeable answer. Pakistan’s tournament is India’s glory, by four wickets with six balls to spare: a triumph that felt as immaculately controlled as the months of sabre-rattling and politicking that preceded it.

None of which is to diminish the acclaim due to India’s players: men of skill and men of character, men who step up and deliver under pressure. They did not devise the format in which everyone else travelled, toiled and adapted while they stayed put. They did not construct the apparatus of a global game run in the interests of one country.

Ironically they are easily good enough to have won this trophy without any competitive advantage, in any conditions, on any schedule: a side that bear comparison with any to grace the white-ball game.

And after a journey of 4,379 miles, from Karachi to Rawalpindi to Dubai to Lahore and back to Dubai, New Zealand finally ran out of road. They won the toss. They scrambled to a competitive total. Glenn Phillips took a stunning catch. Michael Bracewell had one of the games of his life. They got Virat Kohli out second ball. But ultimately there is little point in winning the inches when your opponent still has all the yards.

As deep as it ultimately went, there has been an inexorability to India all the way through this tournament, an immaculate calmness, an ­inability to conceive the circumstances in which they might be beaten. Chasing 252, Rohit Sharma set them up with a brisk 76; KL Rahul was the consummate finisher at the end despite – in his own words – “shitting himself” as the chase tightened.