Free Web NovelChapter 21: Chapter 21: semi-finals
The coin spun high against the clear sky, landing with a sharp click on the roll-pressed turf of the MCA club ground.
Sule Gurukul’s captain looked down. "Tails."
"Tails it is," the umpire said, looking at Nitin.
"We’ll bowl, Sir," Nitin said without hesitating.
The other captain just nodded and walked back to his tent. The pitch looked completely different from the rough, cracked dirt at Azad Maidan. This was a premium, white turf wicket—smooth, hard, and completely flat. There was no morning dew or loose grass. It was a batsman’s paradise for a three-day match.
I sat on the plastic gear box, stretching my left thigh out. My joints were still a bit heavy from the last match, but the mustard oil from last night had kept my muscles from freezing up completely.
Achrekar sir walked over, his leather sandals scraping against the gravel line. He reached out, adjusted the brim of my white cloth hat, and looked down at me.
"Six overs today, Kabir," Achrekar sir said, his gravelly voice flat and quiet. "Four now, two after lunch. That’s it. Once you finish your six, you stand at first slip and don’t move. Save your legs for batting tomorrow. Don’t chase balls to the boundary."
I picked up my white bowling shoes. "Understood, Sir."
Nitin called us into a quick ring near the ropes, rubbing his palms together. "Listen, their top order won’t panic. They know how to leave the ball. Devendra, Kabir—keep the new ball outside off. Don’t give them anything to flick. Let’s go."
My fingers settled across the hard seam of the brand-new red SG leather ball, locking into the classic Wasim Akram grip—index and middle fingers squeezed tight together, thumb resting on the bottom pane.
I reached my five-step mark at the pavilion end, turned around, and looked down the track.
At the striker’s end stood Kedar, their opening batsman. He looked completely relaxed, taking his guard lines calmly and tapping his heavy bat with perfect balance.
"Field is standard, Kabir," Nitin called from short-cover. "Take your slips."
I waved my hand toward Kamlesh and Amit, moving them into first and second slip on the off-side. The outfield was completely empty. They wanted early wickets.
Sanjay, our keeper, squatted down and clapped his gloves. Smack. "Come on, Kabir. Clean lines from ball one."
I took a breath, looking right at the top of Kedar’s off-stump.
Shoulder feels warm. Wrist is locked. The pitch is totally flat, so the ball won’t help me. I have to rely purely on the seam.
I ran in with my short rhythm, loading up side-on at the crease to hide the ball behind my body until the last microsecond. Then I snapped my left wrist down.
[Akram Sync: 17.2%]
The ball left my hand straight on the seam, landing on a perfect good length outside off-stump. Kedar didn’t even twitch. He just leaned back slightly, lifted his arms high, and let the ball pass cleanly into Sanjay’s gloves.
Smack.
The second ball was a fraction wider. Kedar left it alone again. On the third ball, he pushed forward with a straight defensive blade, tapping it back to me. I fielded it and threw it back to the umpire. Kedar didn’t look worried at all. On the fifth ball, he opened the face of his bat slightly, steering a wider delivery into the empty point gap for a comfortable two runs.
The first over finished with 2 runs on the board.
He’s technically perfect. He’s not committing his weight forward early. I can’t rush him.
My second over—the third of the match—moved a bit faster. Kedar blocked the first three balls right into the dirt under his nose. But on the fourth ball, I missed my length slightly, dropping it too full on middle-stump. Kedar didn’t swing hard; he just timed it beautifully, clipping it off his pads through the mid-wicket gap for four runs.
"No problem, Kabir!" Nitin called out. "Keep the line outside off!"
I adjusted my grip, keeping the next two balls tight on the fourth-stump line, forcing him to defend.
By my fourth over—the seventh of the match—the sun was climbing straight over the pavilion roof, turning the air thick and humid. My white shirt was already sticking to my back, and my shoulders were giving small, dull aches.
The Sule Gurukul batsmen were moving smoothly at 25 for no loss. My pace was dropping down by a fraction with every over as the flat turf offered absolutely zero assistance. On the final ball of my spell, I tried to bowl a faster delivery but lost my wrist position, leaking a wide half-volley. Kedar lunged forward and drove it cleanly through the covers for another boundary.
Achrekar sir waved his hand from the boundary line, signaling for a bowling change.
"Go stand at slip, Kabir," Nitin said, walking past me to hand the ball to our senior off-spinner, Vinay. "Take a rest."
I handed my cap to the umpire and walked over to first slip, dropping into a low crouch next to Sanjay. My first spell was done: 4 overs, 0 maidens, 12 runs, 0 wickets.
For the next two hours, I didn’t move from the slip ring.
Standing right next to Sanjay, I watched the match unfold through the late morning. Sule Gurukul’s batsmen didn’t play a single risky shot. They just wore down Devendra and Kamlesh, picking up singles and waiting for the loose ball. By the 11:30 AM lunch bell, they had crawled to 88 for no loss.
"They’re completely set, re," Sanjay muttered as we walked into the tent for the forty-minute break. "Vinay isn’t getting any turn from this surface."
I didn’t answer. I sat on my box, drinking small sips of water while my mom’s chicken soup warmed my stomach.
At 12:10 PM, we walked back out. The afternoon sun was a blazing furnace now, baking the pitch completely dry. The red SG ball was now thirty-five overs old—the lacquer was totally gone, and one side was completely scuffed and rough from hitting the hard ground.
"Kabir, you take the pavilion end," Nitin called out, tossing me the old ball. "Just two overs."
I took the ball, my thumbs automatically checking the rough side.
The ball is totally dry. One side is heavy, one side is light. This is where the Akram template matters. Give it some extra wrist snap.
I ran in from the pavilion end, changing my release angle slightly to make the ball tail into the right-hander late.
Their other opener, a stocky batsman named Sunil who was sitting on 41 runs, took his stance.
I delivered the first ball. It started outside off-stump, but because of the scuffed leather and the late wrist flick, it nipped back sharply in mid-air, tailing inward right toward his front shoe. Sunil tried to push forward with a straight bat, but the late reverse swing completely fooled him.
The ball sneaked past his inside edge and crashed straight into his front shoe before he could even drop his wrists.
Thud.
"Howzatt!" I yelled, my hands flying into the air as I spun toward the umpire. Sanjay and the slips screamed along with me.
The umpire lifted his right index finger straight up.
Sunil stood there for a second, looking down at his pad in complete shock, before turning around to walk back to his tent. The partnership was finally broken.
Score: 115 for 1.
"Yes, Kabir!" Nitin sprinted from cover, giving my cap a hard yank. "The ball moved a mile, re!"
I gave Vinay a quick tap on his gloves, my left shoulder throbbing from the sudden effort.
The next over—my sixth and final over of the day—was much harder. A new batsman came in, and my muscles were completely exhausted from the midday heat. I slipped a stray delivery down the leg-side, and the batsman tucked it cleanly to the fine-leg boundary for four. I finished the over with two solid dot balls, conceding 8 runs in total.
Achrekar sir raised his hand from the fence. The bowling spell was officially over.
Final figures: 6 Overs, 0 Maidens, 21 Runs, 1 Wicket.
I handed my cap back to the umpire and walked straight to first slip, dropping into my low crouch next to Sanjay. For the remaining three hours of the day, I didn’t touch the ball again. I stood completely still, letting Vinay and Manish bowl long, unchanged spells while I saved every ounce of my stamina.
From my spot at slip, I watched Sule Gurukul rebuild their innings with immense patience. They didn’t panic after the wicket. They kept their heads down, defending the straight balls and picking up easy boundaries whenever our spinners got tired.
By 4:30 PM, the long shadows of the trees covered the grass, and the umpire pulled the bails off.
"Stumps!"
Sule Gurukul had batted through the entire day, finishing Day One at a powerful 242 for 4 wickets in 75 overs. They had a massive foundation, but my job was done for the day. My body was tired, but my arms were fresh. Tomorrow morning, their bowlers would have to face me.
