India, take a bow, and fans, go ahead and rub it in, because the semi final at Mohali was comprehensively, surely and squarely won by an Indian Cricket team that continues to invent new ways to win. This match produced many firsts, and a fifth, and totally lived up to the hype leading up to it.
India won an important toss and elected to bat even before Ravi Shastri had a chance to move the microphone closer to Dhoni’s lit up face. For once, Dhoni had announced to the world that he has slugged it out in the nets practicing the coin toss. Opening the batting, India’s intimidating, and arguably the world’s best, opening pair started the proceedings in typical fashion. Tendulkar being assured and watchful, and Sehwag being belligerent while treating bowlers like they were mere inconveniences between him and the boundary. Umar Gul totally lost the plot with a flurry of boundaries and Pakistan were gasping very early in the contest. And then came a young lad named Wahab Riaz to the crease, and the somewhat-frowned-upon-earlier decision of Afridi to play him in place of Akhtar was vindicated beyond anyone’s imagination, including Afridi‘s own. The pitch that had everyone engaged in damage-control looked like a bowler’s paradise for Riaz, who produced incisive bowling that Pakistan has come to be identified with.
Also worthy of mention was Saeed Ajmal who bowled with remarkable precision. To keep Sachin guessing for that long was brilliant for a pressure game. Ajmal showed how old-fashioned spin bowling can be a critical weapon in limited-overs Cricket, even in this 20-20 era. Though Ajmal might have been the victim of some hasty Captain-decisions on an occasion or two, overall Afridi had a pretty good day in the office. With the exception of losing the game eventually, he showed great Captaincy, and more importantly, uncharacteristic composure in the face of some absolutely outrageous fielding that had 6-year olds beaming back in Lahore, and which I believe was half caused by the incessant yelling from behind the wicket. While Pakistan’s bowling was delivering blows to get India’s famed batting skittled for a paltry total, Pakistan’s fielding fought back hard and kept them on the field for as long as they could.
In the midst of all this, Sachin accumulated 85 at an uncommon strike rate. To start the polar performance, Sachin tested the cardiac health of the entire nation by being referred to hair-tight referrals, on successive deliveries. Past that, he kept producing startling concentration-lapses to toss oh-so-make-able catches to the Pakistani fielders inside the circle. With the same startling frequency, Pakistani fielders determinedly kept dropping Sachin to the point where it simply became obscene. Throughout this madness, Sachin kept swinging promptly between being streaky and assured, continuing to keep fans clutching their chests. Eventually to end the misery, Sachin with pin-point laser-like accuracy, picked out the lone fielder inside the circle on the off-side where Afridi finally pulled off a low catch. Due credit should be given to Pakistani bowlers for keeping Sachin gingerly feeling the ball even after facing over a hundred deliveries. It was one of those days, and after 21 long years an inning was witnessed that visibly humbled a Master.
There were cameos from the entire batting order, but it was Raina’s innings towards the end that produced the critical 30 odd runs that would go on to catch Pakistan short. Throughout the first half though, Pakistan produced some truly incredible bowling spells. Ironically their star performer, Shahid Afridi, did not pick up a single wicket. Thanks to some exceptionally sloppy fielding, India racked up 260 on the board on a pitch that was starting to look more sluggish than rush hour traffic on the Long Island Expressway.
Pakistan’s response to India’s 260 was uncannily similar to India’s batting. It began with a fluent start, wobbled somewhat with a couple of wickets and was later seen suffocating horribly in a fetal position. The only exception that swung the game in India’s favor was that Pakistan’s lower-middle order did not bat through. Misbah, who actually hung in there till the end, did the drastic mistake of realizing too late in the innings that he wasn’t batting to save a test on the fifth day in Rawalpindi, but that this was a semi-final of a World Cup with an asking rate of more than 6 an over. Sadly for Pakistan, by the time Misbah took the initiative and started manufacturing some ugly and some handsome shots, it was too late and Pakistan’s life had been choked out completely. The other senior player, Younus Khan, was dismissed before he could complete the strangulation, though he too produced an inning that was painful to watch. Arguably the slow scoring rate, and the gross inability to rotate the strike, left batsmen like Umar Akmal to do too much. Fair credit must also be given to Indian bowlers for producing an unbelievably disciplined performance. Harbhajan and Munaf produced magical deliveries to claim key wickets at crucial stages, while Zaheer and Nehra found their vintage touch to work batsmen over. India’s bowling couldn’t have worked better even in a Bollywood-script for a Chak De cricket-remake. Each bowler picked up two wickets, bowled one of the fewest extras ever, while never pushing Dhoni to look at any of the part timers. Indian fielders did their part too, showing intensity that is supposedly only reserved for big games. No complaints from the Indian fans though, as it all worked out in the end, with Pakistan folding for 231.
Despite the wobbles and a labored 85 from their star batsmen, Indians brought home the game comfortably. With a sense of anti-climax, the end came less like a sudden head-trauma, but more like slowly sucking the life out of a Pakistani side that was expected to go down swinging. I had envisioned this game to be won or lost by the nerves, and it was, but rarely one sees the strange manifestation that we saw today. In the bowling department, youngsters showed great composure for Pakistan, while the experienced fast bowlers either completely lost the plot and got tonked all over the park, or did not make an appearance after bowling a couple. For captaining the side, Afridi showed uncommon calmness, and eventually turned out to be the only fielder who managed to hold on to a catch, but went wicket less after being the leading wicket-taker for his side. And finally, and perhaps most strangely, the batsmen either showed great composure only to get out playing appalling shots, or perhaps showed excessive calmness that became the very beginning of the end for Pakistan.
In two days’ time, the Indian team will show up in Mumbai to play a World Cup final in front of a home crowd.
A dream, a quest, a redemption, a salvation and a cracker of a game awaits.
Extra: Sachin beckons History
Tried as they could, the Gods could not manufacture the hundredth hundred for Sachin today. Perhaps it was better. It would obviously muddy the waters somewhat if Sachin had to look back at this patchy innings as his crowning milestone, and perhaps it is destined to be a little more poetic…
History has been dreaming of this day since her childhood, creating scrapbooks and dreaming dreams in daytime. History has put on her favorite dress and she sits by the window waiting. Sachin may come knocking any time. She has met him before. Many times actually, but something tells her that it is going to be different this time. Special. Magical. She continues to wait.
If there was a record for holding the highest number of records, or being the first to create ridiculous ones, or to break seemingly-insurmountable ones, Sachin would have his name written on all of them. Take a second and think about it. Beyond numerous scores in the 90s, this man has given us Ninety-Nine international centuries to savor. Mind bending. Ludicrous. Compared to other top batsmen that the world has seen, these stats go on to show how many light years this man is ahead of everyone else. And, when Sachin goes on to produce his best year yet at this stage of his career, it just makes a grown man want to snuggle up in the bed and cry in joy.
The hundredth hundred will be special. If it comes as part of an effort to win the World Cup for India, at Mumbai in front of his home crowd, to achieve that coveted crowing jewel in his already stupendous career, it would be, like I said, just poetic.
For the rest of the team, it is time to win it, not just for Sachin, but for the nation that never ceases to dream.
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