Free Web NovelChapter 28: Chapter 28:
[ There will be possible rewrite for this Chapter, i did not come out as i wanted to, i’m posting it cause i have deadline, ]
The Sunday morning air at 9:30 AM was cool, but the pitch looked pale and rock-hard. Devendra tossed me the red leather ball. It was only two overs old. The gold letters on the seam looked bright under the sun.
My thighs were aching from yesterday’s 212-ball batting turn. My lower back gave a sharp pinch every time I loaded my weight onto my rear foot to start my warm-up stride.
Six overs. That’s all Achrekar sir is giving me today. Flatten the wrist angle. The pitch has no morning dampness left, so the ball won’t swing early. Keep it straight on the stumps.
I took my six-step mark near the pavilion fence. At the striker’s end stood their captain, a tall right-hander named Joshi. He took his center guard, gave the ground two hard taps with his blade, and looked up at me.
"Field is same, Kabir!" Nitin yelled from short-cover, holding up his palms. "Keep it tight!"
Kamlesh and Amit dropped into their crouch at first and second slip.
I ran in for the first over of the day. My spikes made a loud crunching sound against the hard white clay. I loaded up side-on, whipped my left arm over in a high arc, and snapped my wrist down hard.
The ball flew down the middle-and-off line, pitching right on a length. Joshi didn’t push forward blindly. He stayed back, kept his bat close to his pad, and blocked it straight down into the soil under his nose.
Thud.
"Nice pace, Kabir!" Sanjay shouted from behind, his gloves catching the ball right at waist height.
For the next five balls, I tried to make him poke. On the third ball, I held the seam straight, letting the angle take the ball across him toward the fourth-stump corridor. Joshi just lifted his arms high and let it pass. On the fifth delivery, I went fuller for a late inswinger. He adjusted his wrists cleanly, turning the face of his bat to nudge it through the mid-wicket gap for a double.
The over finished with 2 runs on the board.
He’s not throwing his hands at anything. He knows it’s a four-day match. He’s just going to sit there and block.
For the next five overs, Devendra and I operated from both ends, but the pitch was dead. It was a complete marble floor. I ran in hard, pulling my shoulder down with maximum force to get whatever extra bounce was left, but Joshi and their second opener, Patil, just leaned forward to block.
Whenever I dropped my length a fraction too short out of fatigue, Patil punished me. He stayed on his back foot and punched the ball cleanly through the cover gaps for boundaries. My third over went for six runs, and my fifth over leaked seven after a loose ball drifted down the leg-side for a boundary.
By the end of the eleventh over of the match, my spell was over.
Achrekar sir raised his hand from the wooden benches near the sight-screen, signaling the bowling change. I handed my cap to the umpire and walked over to first slip, my left arm feeling completely numb from the exertion.
My final figures were locked: 6 Overs, 0 Maidens, 21 Runs, 0 Wickets.
"Stand low, Kabir," Nitin told me as we changed positions. "Vinay is coming on from this side."
I dropped into my crouch next to Sanjay, my palms resting flat on my knees. I had done my job cleanly, but as I looked across at the two openers, my chest tightened. They hadn’t even scratched the surface of their stamina.
By the 11:30 AM lunch bell, the match began to slide out of our hands completely.
The sun was right overhead, making the white uniforms hot. Joshi and Patil didn’t offer a single half-chance. They didn’t try to clear the infield or play big shots; they just used their copybook technique to wear down our senior spinners.
Vinay and Manish bowled twelve overs unchanged, but the ball stayed too true off the flat pitch. Joshi reached his half-century with a simple push down to long-on.
We walked into the changing room for the lunch break with the score sitting at 118 for no loss.
The room was quiet. Devendra threw his sweaty boots into the corner locker, slamming the metal door hard. Clang.
"They aren’t even looking at the ball, re," Devendra muttered, his face red from the heat. "They are just standing forward and pushing everything into the empty spaces. My shoes are completely torn from the landing."
Achrekar sir sat on his chair, sipping his black tea from his flask. He didn’t look at Devendra. He just clicked his pen, made a notation in his book, and looked out the window at the empty grandstands.
"Your lines are too wide," the coach said, his voice flat. "If you bowl wide on this ground, you are just wasting your energy. Bowl at the three stumps."
Nitin bit his lip, nodding quickly. "Yes, Sir."
At 12:10 PM, the heat inside the stadium felt twice as heavy. Standing at first slip next to say was pure torture for my legs. Every time I squatted down, my quads flared up with a sharp burning pain.
"Come on, Vinay! Bowl it straight, re!" Sanjay shouted, his voice sounding dry and hoarse.
But the IES New English openers were completely set now. They had understood the slow pace of the pitch. In the forty-fifth over, Patil used his feet against Manish’s leg-spin, coming down the track smoothly to drive him through extra-cover for four.
The runs kept bleeding. 150 for no loss. Then 180.
I kept biting my lip as I watched from slip. Standing there, I was completely helpless. I could see the gaps in their defense through my Tendulkar grid—
I knew exactly where they were vulnerable—
but I couldn’t ask for the ball. My six overs were done. I could do absolutely nothing but watch our fielders chase ground balls to the boundary fence.
Kamlesh misfielded a simple ground ball at point, letting it slip through his fingers for two extra runs. Nitin threw a wild return to the keeper’s end that went for overthrows. The team was panicking because the target was disappearing.
Right before the 2:10 PM tea break, Vinay finally found a breakthrough.
He tossed the ball up slowly, making it drift outside off-stump. Patil tried to cut a ball that was too close to his body, his hands checking the shot too late. The leather gripped a small crack, stayed low, and caught a thick outside edge. The ball flew straight into my palms at slip. I caught it at chest height, but nobody celebrated loudly. They were already 220 for 1.
By the time the evening session started at 2:30 PM, the other wickets came through pure desperation from their side, but our bowlers had to sweat for every single one.
Their number three batsman, a stocky boy named Gupte, tried to smash Manish over long-off on his fourth ball. He didn’t get to the pitch of the ball. The leather hit the toe end of his bat and looped straight into Devendra’s hands at mid-off.
Score: 245 for 2.
Ten overs later, Gupte’s partner, the set opener Joshi, finally made a mistake on 94. Vinay bowled a faster delivery that skidding off the seam. Joshi tried to pull it from middle stump, missed the line completely, and the ball crashed straight into his middle bails.
Clack.
Score: 290 for 3.
But their middle order didn’t collapse. Their number five and six batsmen put their heads down, milked the singles, and took them past three hundred. Right before the day ended, Manish managed to trap their number five LBW with a straight arm-ball that didn’t turn, and Devendra clean-bowled their number six with a fast yorker that hit the base of the wood.
When the umpires pulled the bails for Stumps on Day Two, the tin scoreboard read:
IES New English School: 361 Runs / 5 Wickets (88 Overs)
Shardashram Deficit: Trailing by 151 runs.
We walked off the grass in complete silence. Nitin’s head was down, his cricket cap clutched tight in his hand. We had spent six hours under the sun, and the match was rotting right inside our fingers.
Monday morning at 9:30 AM brought the final blow of their first innings.
The Day Three sun was just as sharp, but our boys walked out with completely slumped shoulders. The IES New English lower order didn’t have classic batsmen, but they didn’t need them. Our senior bowlers were completely exhausted, their pace down to a slow medium, their spin lacking any sharp drift.
Their overnight number seven, a tall bowler named Shinde, decided to take advantage of our tired fields. He didn’t block. He just cleared his front leg and swung his bat like a club, lofting Manish over mid-on for two consecutive boundaries.
"Keep it tight, Devendra!" Sanjay yelled, but his voice lacked any real bite now.
Every over felt like a slow crawl. The scoreboard frame kept changing numbers every few minutes. 390. 410. 430.
I stood at slip, my eyes burning from the red dust and the glare, my body feeling completely detached from the game.
In the hundredth over, Shinde tried to swing Devendra over mid-wicket. The ball took a massive outside edge and flew low to my right side. I threw my hand down, grabbing it cleanly just inches off the clay for another catch. But it didn’t matter. The lead was already huge. Shinde was out for 42.
Score: 432 for 6.
The remaining four wickets fell quickly after that. Devendra found his rhythm against the tail-enders. He bowled their number eight with a fast inswinger that clipped the off-stump, and trapped the number nine dead in front of the wickets. Manish wrapped up the number ten with a simple bat-pad catch to short-leg.
Right at 11:15 AM, Devendra fired a fast yorker that hit the base of the number eleven’s leg-stump, finally wrapping up the innings.
"Innings over!" the main umpire called out.
The IES New English first innings was finally finished for a massive 457 All Out in 112 Overs. They had taken a crushing 247-run lead over our first-innings score of 210.
Our players dragged their feet back toward the pavilion stairs, their white uniforms completely brown, their faces covered in dust and sweat. Nitin didn’t say a word to anyone. We had to get our batting pads back on immediately before the lunch bell. We were facing an absolute mountain, and the threat of an innings defeat was staring us right in the face.
