Sunday, July 31, 2011

Those crazy twenty minutes....

There was that sense of some ominous occurrence, brewing inside me, which had compelled me to switch off my TV set as soon as Yuvraj Singh began his walk back towards the pavilion. I had hoped against hope that it was nothing but a false alarm, triggered off by ages of ignorance towards cricket (at least until World Cup '11). Relax, I said to myself, you are probably over-reacting; this is a stunning pitch to bat on, with the sun basking down at Trent Bridge, the platform set up beautifully by an excellent partnership between the Master & the Apprentice (at 31, Yuvraj would raise an objection to that latter word, but an average of 19 overseas in the last four years, after ten years of overseas cricket couldn't supply me with another adjective). He has been a huge let-down for me personally, as I wouldn't shy away from admitiing that he is one of my three favourite batsmen (after Sourav Ganguly & Adam Gilchrist). That lack of concentration again, after a milestone had been achieved, directly or indirectly (in this case Dravid's century) hurt India immensely. But what transpired after his departure was as incredulous as anything possibly imagined by me; but hauntingly similar to India's entire World Cup campaign bar the final match, a lower-middle order collapse, or a paralysis hip downwards in medical terminology. Harbhajan's dismissal might have been unfortunate, but it was to happen sooner or later, and the assassin was clinical as ever. Stuart Broad has been efficient in cleaning up the tail of late, and this Indian tail being longer than the kangaroo's, he must have enjoyed his late supper immensely, with the hat-trick cherry on top.
So what was to be India gaining an upper hand convincingly has turned out to be an even contest again, as both teams start on a clean slate. But the best batting day still to arrive on day three, India might have an uphill battle on hand, as it will be them batting last, although not on a crumbling pitch, but under crumbling confidence as the middle order just not applying itself, Tendulkar included. Instead of taking a leaf out of Dravid's book, they seem to have been reading a different novel altogether, with five days of test cricket seemingly too long for their IPL-enriched willows. Raina for 22 balls, Tendulkar for 34, Dhoni not worth mentioning; this is not twenty-twenty folks, not even fifty-fifty. One delivery can be more ruthless than the entire 14 fatal deliveries in IPL, as all of them would have found out. The ball will not swing as much but there will be true bounce through-out, and at the gentle pace offered by the Indian bowlers, it seems to be cannon fodder for the likes of KP and Prior, and even Broad. Unless the Indian bowlers take a crash course in discipline from Glen Mcgrath, or some ideas borrowed from a toned-down Warney who is present at the ground, and fast acquiring the nickname of the "human octopus Paul" for his eerie predictions. Getting inspired from the Monk present in their own dressing room seems a much better idea. Rahul Dravid would have put a Zen Monk under acute inferiority complex today, until that slash down deep-third man. But the Dancing  Menakas in the Indian batting line up would disturb the mental framework of any Vishwamitra.

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