Thought Crimes

Rishabh Pant doesn’t understand what playing for a draw means. He is the epitome of the IPL batsman shoe-horned into the long format. Shot into stardom on the basis of his exploits in the shortest format, all he needed were a few T20 like domestic performances and he found himself in the Indian test team. It is 2018 and day 5 at the Oval. He has added over 200 runs with KL Rahul to keep the dreams of an unlikely win alive. Rahul falls with over a 100 still to win. Jadeja joins Pant with Ishant waiting in the wings. Rishabh Pant though, only knows how to play one way and he soon perishes as well. He has made a counter-attacking 100 but there is criticism over his lack of ‘game-awareness’ or ‘maturity’.

Over 2 years have passed. Pant has made another overseas 100 in the meantime. That one in Australia. That one ironically in a draw. However, the concept of saving a test still does not exist for him. Why should it. In recent memory, one is hard-pressed to find a test which India ‘saved’. Laxman’s exploits in Ahmedabad are the only ones that vaguely come to mind. Before that, it is probably the Youtube highlights of that 17 year old walking back at Old Trafford, well before Rishabh Pant was born. He joins Che Pujara in Sydney and within minutes, a win goes from impossible to improbable to ‘if Pant continues like this’. While Pujara continues to wear down the opposition, Pant’s strokeplay keeps the scoreboard ticking. Minutes before the new ball is due, Lyon gets him, on what else but an edge off an aggressive shot. This time there is muted criticism. India has learned to accept him and his methods.

The yin to his yang, Che Pujara soon falls as well. The win had become impossible with Pant’s dismissal. Now a draw is improbable as well. Vihari is hobbling. Ashwin has probably taken more wickets than he has made runs over his last few matches. Jaddu could have been the saviour but his thumb is broken. In any case, we are playing without Kohli, Ishant and Shami and have lost Umesh along the way. Two weeks ago, the stars aligned to give us Melbournepur once again. For most fans, that was enough. It was like beating Pakistan in the world cup in the 90s. Anything now is immaterial. We have not forgotten that this Australian team has Steve Smith and David Warner back. The former, despite his lean run in the first 2 tests, had out Bradmaned the Don in England; the latter hit 3 centuries in the last home summer including a triple. Young Marnus from 2018 is fast forging the Legend of Labuschagne. Mitch Starc devours tails for breakfast when he is not crushing thumbs with his bouncers. Oh and there is small matter of the top ranked bowler in Pat Cummins. No no, it is ok to lose to a team like this, especially when we are under-resourced. Everyone will understand. We have fought valiantly. There will be honour. The script reads well.

Except someone forgot to deliver it to Vihari and Ashwin. So for 256 deliveries they just bat. This was no AB and Faf performing a blockathon for the ages. We are talking about a batsman whose place is under question, who averages in the early thirties, who has a solitary ton to his name and who few outside the subcontinent will have heard of. Partnering him is a master of his art, who has in the miracle of Melborune, finally managed to exorcise the ghosts of Jo-burg and Southampton. The art though is off-spin and while more than useful, will not serve him at this hour. Logic, cricketing wisdom, expert opinions- all ceased to matter 2 weeks ago but surely that was a black swan event. The torn hamstring and back spasms should not even be part of the discussion. However, lightning does strike twice. In the space of 2 weeks. India somehow someway are still level. The victory, and we should call it this, is pyrrhic though. Both of these warriors will play no further part in the series decider. Neither will Jadeja. Nor Bumrah. Never mind. A billion people are rejoicing. Irrespective of the result, this series has been won in our hearts. Perhaps the only one complaining is Rishabh Pant. You see, he never really understood what playing for a draw meant.

And now we are in the Gabbatoir. Where Tim Paine wanted Ashwin to be. The Indian bowling unit reads 5 bodies: 2 debutants and 4 tests between them. Within 2 days, it will become 4 or at best 4.5 bodies. Two of those younglings have been optimistically selected as ‘all-rounders’. As if anyone can replace Sir. However, we don’t really care. Let the lads have fun. India have lost 6 wickets while still 180 behind and the earlier proclaimed all-rounders are at the crease. Maybe the strains of Sydney have started to tell or it is just the runs that often flow when there is no pressure. Maybe we should credit the IPL after all for instilling this fearless approach. Either way, this half of the bowling unit more than does its bit with the bat to keep the lead down to 33. And also turns up the next day to take 10 wickets. So that is 4.5 bodies, 2 debutants and a combined experience of 4 tests taking 20 wickets against a home side at a ground where said home side has been unbeaten for what 50 years. Logic, cricketing wisdom, expert opinions- yes you told us they all ceased to matter. What do we call this then? Let’s borrow from our neighbours- could this be their famed haal? Except that we do everything so much better than them so we haal over a month instead of a day. Yes, that’s what this is now.

So we are at the final day of this final test of this series that film producers have already started bidding rights for. Rohit is soon accounted for. By who else but Pat Cummins. Gill though, having shown glimpses of his class across Melbourne and Sydney, has decided to become the next batting superstar that the nation so eagerly awaits. He cuts Cummins, he lofts Lyon, he hammers Hazlewood. Starc he carts for 15 off 3 balls. In an alternate world of tabloids, Sara and Suhana are linked with him. Cruelly, like Pant in Sydney, he too is denied a deserving 100. Again, it is Nathan Lyon who strikes, now 2 short of the 400 test wickets which he must have thought he would have had by now. Rahane plays a cameo and departs and in walks Rishabh Pant. The equation reads: 162 runs needed off say 32 overs. 7 wickets in hand. The pitch never did much. The new ball is some 20 overs away still. The series is 1-1. It should now stay that way. Danger has been averted for the most part. The trophy will be retained.

Except 1-1 would mean a draw today. And Rishabh Pant, as we have already learnt, doesn’t understand what playing for a draw means.

So it is déjà vu as the flamboyant southpaw joins the Rock of Saurashtra once again. Pujara is now the battle-hardened veteran, the consummate survivor. He has taken what 10 body blows already, including a couple on the head. His pain when hit on the finger has made spectators wince and cry out for him. Hazlewood’s ‘did you see that’ is met with the icy middle distance stare. Hazlewood will soon be ground to dust. Only Cummins still shows signs of life. The unstoppable force keeps going at the immovable object. Finally, with the nuclear warhead that is the new ball, Cummins gets his man. The equation now: 100 off 18 overs. Once Mayank departs, it will read: 63 off say 11 overs. 5 wickets in hand. Washington and Rishabh now at the crease. 21 and 23 years young respectively. In a team that is full of winners, these 2 are already heroes on the back of their recent exploits. Surely it is time to shut shop and prepare for handshakes.

Rohit Sharma is watching from the dressing room. He is 33. Virat Kohli may be watching from India whenever he’s not changing diapers. He is 32. The writer incidentally, is also 33. For a long time, Kohli and Rohit have been thought of as the young India. Except today, they probably feel very old watching these carefree talents in the middle. Had any of this old guard been batting, this last chapter would probably never have been written. Yes it is a nothing to lose situation but now there is just the tail to come. And after the last month, surely surely we’ll take 1-1 rather than risk a ‘respectable’ series defeat.

There is a fine line between fearless and foolhardy, between risk-seeking and reckless, between innovative and idiotic and between dreaming and being deluded. Through the course of the next 10 overs, Pant and Washington cross these lines repeatedly till they become a mishmash of glory-seeking blurs. Washington gets out to <gasp> a reverse sweep. In a test match I tell you. With 10 to win and the tail to come in. We are at a poker table now. Pant sees this and raises him to ‘I won’t just win this; I’ll win this with a six. Like Dhoni’. Hazlewood calls it and almost wins except the river bails out Pant. Thakur provides some late drama but finally and deservedly, Pant gets the winning runs. There will be no hundred this time. However, there will be a win. And Pant will take it. He still doesn’t know what playing for a draw means, you see.

Logic, cricketing wisdom, expert opinions- should we still talk about them? Call it haal, call it destiny, call it what you will. But make sure you treasure it and on both cricketing and non-cricketing days in the future when all seems glum, remember that this happened. While the world struggled with winter and a virus, with pain and the pandemic, there was a cricketing summer in the land of Oz. Lightning did strike thrice. And in some measure, you got to witness it.

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Unlike the other 2 era defining miracles of Kolkata and the Natwest final, I can’t confess to have witnessed the final magical moments live myself. Brisbane being both geographically and from a time-zone standpoint, in the other corner of the world, had meant that I grudgingly called it a day short of 5 am once tea was taken. A draw I felt, was imminent, and would be a remarkable feat in itself. However, even though I got to know the result hours later, as I watched the highlights of the closing moments, emotion welled up inside of me completely unannounced. Perhaps it was the outcome of all those late nights, of midnight coffees and bleary-eyed whatsapp conversations. Of cursing one set of PCs (partisan commentators) and marvelling at another PC (Pat Cummins). Or the outcome of having witnessed the journey of a squad that had left in its wake a freakish collapse, a fractured arm, a dislocated thumb, a torn hamstring, a sore back, a strained abdomen and this may all just be Pujara. A journey that told of poignant stories of life’s milestones: a talisman foregone so he could take his first steps towards fatherhood; a son who fulfilled his father’s dream but couldn’t be at his deathbed; and yet another father still waiting to cross the seven seas for the first sight of his newborn.

Maybe it was that. But as this new father watched the Brissie band of brothers set out for their victory lap, like a billion fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters around the world, he gave in to the pride and joy that these sons of team India had brought to him. Perhaps it was the victory lap that did it. After all, 10 years ago even God had teared into the tricolour during the victory lap on that magical Wankhade night. And all the time he wondered and wished in equal measure: how to explain to his gambolling 10 month old twins what joys this five day game can bring; and that one day, another set of heroes, in white or in blue, will conjure a miracle for them as well. The wait has been close to 20 years in tests. But it was so worth it in the end.

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Let’s go with haal. Inshallah boys played well.