The ball skidded past Mark Wood’s bat and into the stumps, and Rashid Khan stood with his arms outstretched, arching his back and facing the night sky. It was a moment to savour, one which will reverberate across Delhi, India and far beyond: Afghanistan had not only beaten the world champions, but thrashed them.

This was the performance of a team with no fear or inhibition, attacking first with the bat and then with the ball. Afghanistan had won once in their 17 previous World Cup matches, a one-wicket victory over Scotland eight years ago: they were a team with nothing to lose, who gained everything.

Amid political turmoil and humanitarian crises, India has become a home away from home for Afghanistan. This, their most famous night as a sporting nation, came in front of over 25,000 fans in a city with a substantial Afghan diaspora. Many of them waved Afghanistan flags and danced along as Afghan Jalebi played over the PA system.

For England, this was a throwback to the bad old days. They picked the wrong team, opting for an extra seamer on a pitch where spin dominated. They were sloppy from the very first ball, which Chris Woakes sprayed down the leg side and Jos Buttler let through his legs for five wides. And they batted without purpose, pushing and prodding their way to a 69-run loss.

The white-ball revolution prompted by England’s early exit at the 2015 World Cup was characterised by their attacking batting, their embrace of risk and their ability to take pressure off themselves and put it onto the opposition. But if those ideas were personified by anyone in Delhi on Sunday, it was Rahmanullah Gurbaz.

The players’ entrance at the Arun Jaitley Stadium is through the Virender Sehwag Gate, which bears a silver plaque. Underneath a depiction of Sehwag is a quotation attributed to him, reading: “The best thing I ever did was to believe in myself.” Whether Gurbaz noticed the sign or not, he was imbued by that same self-assurance.

He hit the sixth legal ball he faced for six, pulling Woakes over the short leg-side boundary for six. It was one of four sixes he hit in the 57 balls he faced, heaving Sam Curran over square leg, upper-cutting Wood over deep third and slog-sweeping Adil Rashid over midwicket. England managed to hit only one, by which point they were six wickets down in the 31st over.

There were sumptuous boundaries too, not least a brace off Woakes through the off side. His early six forced Woakes to bowl wide outside the off stump and protect the short leg-side boundary; instead, Gurbaz pumped him through cover and sliced him through point. “He put us under a lot of pressure,” Buttler conceded. Forget Bazball: this was Gurbazball.

There have been times when Jonathan Trott, Afghanistan’s coach, has found himself frustrated by Gurbaz’s attacking predilections, which jar with the instincts that served Trott so well in his own playing career. He has often told him not to worry if he scores 30 off his first 40 balls: “The longer he bats, the more chance we have of winning – that’s what I say to him as well.”

Yet in Delhi, it took Gurbaz only 33 balls to reach 50 – and but for a needless run-out, he would surely have converted his 80 off 57 into his first World Cup century. Trott could only admire his strokeplay: “It was amazing, the shots that he played… for him, the sky is the limit.”

“My mindset was only one thing: just to be positive,” Gurbaz said. “I was really well prepared for that game – not only for that game, but for this competition. I was just trying to be positive against everyone.” It was the innings of a player emboldened by the freedom to dream about what could go right, against a team debilitated by the fear of what might go wrong.

Even when Afghanistan imploded after drinks, losing their middle order to England’s spinners, they retained their courage. Ikram Alikhil, a 23-year-old playing his third international in four years, wore Wood’s bouncer on his shoulder and picked himself back up to reach 58; Rashid and Mujeeb, relative veterans of this side, combined aggression with impudence.

Buttler, by contrast, has spent the last five weeks telling his players to “fall on the positive side” whenever they are unsure how to approach a situation, as those trying to reinvigorate an ageing team. But his message seems to have gone unheeded: their dismissals again resulted from the tentative shots prompted by an abundance of caution, rather than over-aggression.

Joe Root prodded at one that kept low from Mujeeb; Dawid Malan chipped to short cover; Liam Livingstone was trapped lbw while playing down the wrong line; and Sam Curran poked tamely to slip. Tellingly, the one batter to assert his authority was the youngest man in the squad, Harry Brook – who was only brought in four weeks ago.

England were clearly surprised by conditions, opting to bowl first on a pitch that played much more like a traditional Feroz Shah Kotla surface than the two served up earlier in the tournament and got slower and lower in the absence of dew. Yet champion sides should be able to adapt, and England are caught out in this manner far too often.

But this was not a night about England’s defeat. It was the night that Afghanistan turned their talent and promise into something concrete, a result that meant more than two points. For a country in mourning for the victims of an earthquake, whose name has been associated with war, hardship, turmoil and loss, this was a moment of rare joy.