It was a day-nighter, the first we had played in Bangalore. I wasn't sure how good the lights were going to be, but we had to deal with it, whichever way it was. I was at the nets from the morning, swinging my arms, testing my grip on the ball, working on releasing it just so. I had developed this inswinger over the last few months, which worked really well. Whenever I was blowing with the wind, I could reverse the ball in and confuse the batsmen totally. I worked on it a bit that morning, then went home to rest a bit before the match began at 2 pm.
It was very muggy that day and it looked like we were in for one of our typical Bangalore thunder showers. The sky was overcast and all of us were worried that the skies would open up and deny us a result. These were the days before the Duckworth-Lewis system was introduced into cricket, and a rain meant a washed-out match. Since this was part of the Pepsi Cup series of ODIs, we would have to replay the match with Pakistan the next day, if it got rained out. Not a very happy prospect for all of us.
Pakistan, as a team, were a very interesting opponent, particularly because there was such nationalistic mania around playing them. A very talented bunch indeed and I enjoyed bowling to their batsmen. Whenever my ball beat Ashraf's bat, for example, I experienced a high that has to be felt to be understood. I even thrived on the pressure that an India-Pakistan match brings, because the high of the victory is so sweet, though the low was enough to send me hunting for my pills.
On match days, I didn't use, how much ever I wanted to. That was one discipline I stuck to, aware that if anyone really got to know how dependent I am on my pills, I would not only be kicked out of the team, but be so disgraced that I wouldn't be able to show my face to anyone. It is not as if I was not aware of what I was doing, to myself and to the sport. But..
Unwittingly, the face swam before me, that of Achala. No, this time, it wasn't Achala. It was that media woman, Anju, that Dillip identified for me. Anjana Narendra of National TV he said. I told him she looked like a classmate from school and Dillip had promptly told me her name and her channel. I wonder if I can find her in the crowd? I smiled. What a foolish idea, really.
The match started, and Cream lost the toss. We were put into bat by the Pakistani captain, Aseem Nawaz. ''Seemu'' to his teammates, I am told. Not that we, the Indian team, called him that, but the others -- Kiwis, Windies -- did call him by his nick. Our guys didn't play very well, but Ganesh managed to hit a 45 and we managed 246 for 9 in 50 overs. I hit around 6 runs and got out to to their spinner Akram Raja.
Well, it was hot and humid, at least we didn't have to bat under the lights, I thought, though bowling and fielding would be tougher. We didn't know how good the lights would be and whether we would be able to field the ball or sight the wickets properly to bowl. Well, we would find out. We had an average total, defendable, and a run-rate of nearly five. In those days, it was good enough.
The second innings started and I couldn't do much in my opening spell. The humidity was really getting to me, my run-up was not as good as it should be. I wasn't light on my feet and though the ball was swinging, it was not enough to beat Ashraf. The game went on and on and Ashraf had already managed to hit a century. He was in great form and Pakistan was on 181 for no loss, at the end of 20 overs.
Less than a 100 runs to score, I thought to myself at one point, and shook my head. The crowds were screaming and roaring, everyone unhappy. All of us were afraid to field at the boundaries, though we had been told that no one was allowed into the stadium with anything that they could throw at us. I remembered the Eden Gardens crowd and hoped that this lot, my home crowd, wouldn't shame us by rushing into the field.
Bhupen, our spin bowler, Boopy to the team, was bowling to Ashraf. I still remember it like it happened before my eyes, so crystal clear. He spun it in and crack went the ball, straight to the cover boundary. What a shot. I shook my head, no way any of us could have reached that ball in time to stop it and anyway I was too far off.
Then I stopped in shock. From my position at extracover, I had a clear view of Ashraf. And the fellow lifted his bat and showed our amiable Boopy the entire route that the ball had taken from his bat to the cover boundary. As if to say, see how I've hit your ball. Mocking Boopy! I felt the blood rush to my head as I went towards him. How dare he!
I don't know what I would have done, but Cream quickly came there and with a touch of his hand, calmed all of us who had crowded in, down. The crowd was roaring in anger and the cops were pushing a section of people back, physically. I was furious, but we didn't say anything, any of us. The neutral umpire, a Kiwi, gave all of us a warning glace and sent us back to our positions. This was the first time we had seen a neutral umpire and all of us were trying to be on our best behaviour.
I saw it later in replays and I still don't know how I did it. Most of what happens on the cricket field is by instinct and reflexes, though we train and train for it. Boopy sent in a slower ball and Ashraf cracked at it again. It flew towards me, just about a foot off the ground. I dived to my right -- my wrong hand -- as I saw it coming and yes! I felt it, I felt the ball in my hand, plop right into the curve of my palm and my fingers closed around it securely.
Yay! I jumped into the air as everyone came running towards me, Cream, Viky, Ganesh, Suri, Anu, Boopy.. Yes! We had done it. Ashraf was out and nobody cheered him, as he walked all the way to the pavilion. Nobody even clapped, though he had hit a century. I think even the guy at the opposite end, Qamarul Aleem, did not clap or send him on.
After that, the blood started pumping in all of us. I bowled really well, so did Boopy. We got them all out, like a pack of crumbling cards, and I returned to the pavilion with the second best figures of my career...5 for 37. I got the Man of the Match award, but I think it was more for the catch than for my bowling!
It was very muggy that day and it looked like we were in for one of our typical Bangalore thunder showers. The sky was overcast and all of us were worried that the skies would open up and deny us a result. These were the days before the Duckworth-Lewis system was introduced into cricket, and a rain meant a washed-out match. Since this was part of the Pepsi Cup series of ODIs, we would have to replay the match with Pakistan the next day, if it got rained out. Not a very happy prospect for all of us.
Pakistan, as a team, were a very interesting opponent, particularly because there was such nationalistic mania around playing them. A very talented bunch indeed and I enjoyed bowling to their batsmen. Whenever my ball beat Ashraf's bat, for example, I experienced a high that has to be felt to be understood. I even thrived on the pressure that an India-Pakistan match brings, because the high of the victory is so sweet, though the low was enough to send me hunting for my pills.
On match days, I didn't use, how much ever I wanted to. That was one discipline I stuck to, aware that if anyone really got to know how dependent I am on my pills, I would not only be kicked out of the team, but be so disgraced that I wouldn't be able to show my face to anyone. It is not as if I was not aware of what I was doing, to myself and to the sport. But..
Unwittingly, the face swam before me, that of Achala. No, this time, it wasn't Achala. It was that media woman, Anju, that Dillip identified for me. Anjana Narendra of National TV he said. I told him she looked like a classmate from school and Dillip had promptly told me her name and her channel. I wonder if I can find her in the crowd? I smiled. What a foolish idea, really.
The match started, and Cream lost the toss. We were put into bat by the Pakistani captain, Aseem Nawaz. ''Seemu'' to his teammates, I am told. Not that we, the Indian team, called him that, but the others -- Kiwis, Windies -- did call him by his nick. Our guys didn't play very well, but Ganesh managed to hit a 45 and we managed 246 for 9 in 50 overs. I hit around 6 runs and got out to to their spinner Akram Raja.
Well, it was hot and humid, at least we didn't have to bat under the lights, I thought, though bowling and fielding would be tougher. We didn't know how good the lights would be and whether we would be able to field the ball or sight the wickets properly to bowl. Well, we would find out. We had an average total, defendable, and a run-rate of nearly five. In those days, it was good enough.
The second innings started and I couldn't do much in my opening spell. The humidity was really getting to me, my run-up was not as good as it should be. I wasn't light on my feet and though the ball was swinging, it was not enough to beat Ashraf. The game went on and on and Ashraf had already managed to hit a century. He was in great form and Pakistan was on 181 for no loss, at the end of 20 overs.
Less than a 100 runs to score, I thought to myself at one point, and shook my head. The crowds were screaming and roaring, everyone unhappy. All of us were afraid to field at the boundaries, though we had been told that no one was allowed into the stadium with anything that they could throw at us. I remembered the Eden Gardens crowd and hoped that this lot, my home crowd, wouldn't shame us by rushing into the field.
Bhupen, our spin bowler, Boopy to the team, was bowling to Ashraf. I still remember it like it happened before my eyes, so crystal clear. He spun it in and crack went the ball, straight to the cover boundary. What a shot. I shook my head, no way any of us could have reached that ball in time to stop it and anyway I was too far off.
Then I stopped in shock. From my position at extracover, I had a clear view of Ashraf. And the fellow lifted his bat and showed our amiable Boopy the entire route that the ball had taken from his bat to the cover boundary. As if to say, see how I've hit your ball. Mocking Boopy! I felt the blood rush to my head as I went towards him. How dare he!
I don't know what I would have done, but Cream quickly came there and with a touch of his hand, calmed all of us who had crowded in, down. The crowd was roaring in anger and the cops were pushing a section of people back, physically. I was furious, but we didn't say anything, any of us. The neutral umpire, a Kiwi, gave all of us a warning glace and sent us back to our positions. This was the first time we had seen a neutral umpire and all of us were trying to be on our best behaviour.
I saw it later in replays and I still don't know how I did it. Most of what happens on the cricket field is by instinct and reflexes, though we train and train for it. Boopy sent in a slower ball and Ashraf cracked at it again. It flew towards me, just about a foot off the ground. I dived to my right -- my wrong hand -- as I saw it coming and yes! I felt it, I felt the ball in my hand, plop right into the curve of my palm and my fingers closed around it securely.
Yay! I jumped into the air as everyone came running towards me, Cream, Viky, Ganesh, Suri, Anu, Boopy.. Yes! We had done it. Ashraf was out and nobody cheered him, as he walked all the way to the pavilion. Nobody even clapped, though he had hit a century. I think even the guy at the opposite end, Qamarul Aleem, did not clap or send him on.
After that, the blood started pumping in all of us. I bowled really well, so did Boopy. We got them all out, like a pack of crumbling cards, and I returned to the pavilion with the second best figures of my career...5 for 37. I got the Man of the Match award, but I think it was more for the catch than for my bowling!
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