Free Web NovelChapter 35: Chapter 35:
The 10th over finished with a slow tap back to the bowler. My score was stuck at three runs, but my hands didn’t feel as stiff anymore. The red lacquer on the ball was mostly gone now, rubbed off against the flat face of my bat until the leather looked dull and pink.
Sunil walked down from the non-striker’s end, spitting onto the grass near the line. "They are changing the field now, Kabir. The quicks are tired. Joshi is warming up his shoulder near the boundary."
"The ball is still hard enough to skid," I said, wiping my forehead with my arm guard. "Watch Deshmukh’s first two balls. He’s going to try one last fast inswinger before he goes off."
Sunil grunted, turning back to take his guard.
He was right about the spinners, but he didn’t wait long enough to face them. In the 12th over, Deshmukh ran in for his final burst, delivering a wider ball that looked like a safe leave. Sunil got greedy. He had been blocking for forty minutes and his patience just snapped. He reached out with a wide, horizontal blade, his feet completely frozen in the crease.
The ball took a thin outside edge, carrying straight to the second slip.
Clack.
"Howzatt!" the whole wicket cordon yelled together.
The umpire didn’t wait. The finger went up immediately. Sunil kicked the dirt with his toe, muttered a swear under his breath, and began the long walk back to the stadium tent for a ragged 14.
Score: 38 Runs / 1 Wicket (11.4 Overs).
Nitin walked out at number three, his eyes fixed on the center of the pitch where the green grass blades had flattened out. He stopped right next to me, tapping his bat handle against mine.
"The selectors are making notes after every single dot ball, Kabir," Nitin said, keeping his voice very low under his helmet grill. "Vasu sir told the assistant coach that our scoring rate is too slow for a forty-five over game."
"The pitch is drying up," I told him, looking at the cracks near the good-length area. "If we rush now against the new spinners, we will lose three wickets before the lunch bell. Just work the singles."
Nitin nodded, walking over to take his guard line.
Joshi came into the attack from the pavilion end. He was a smart left-arm spinner who didn’t bowl with a high loop; he just darted the ball flat into the rough soil outside off-stump, trying to trap the batsman on the pads.
I faced him first.
He’s releasing the ball from wide of the crease to get the angle. Don’t reach out. Lunge forward and cover the line.
Joshi delivered. The ball hit a small ridge in the clay, turned an inch, and struck the middle of my bat with a loud thud. My wrists went loose on impact, deadening the ball right into the dirt at my toes so it wouldn’t loop to short-leg.
For the next six overs, Nitin and I entered a quiet, heavy grind. I didn’t hit a single aerial shot, but I stopped dead-blocking everything. Once the fast bowlers were out of the attack, the spaces inside the thirty-yard ring opened up.
When Chavan, their off-spinner, drifted a fraction too full on middle stump, I didn’t swing hard. I just used my wrists to turn the bat face, clipping the leather through the empty mid-wicket gap for a double. Two balls later, Joshi missed his length and dropped a short ball outside off-stump. I stayed back on my rear heel, punching it smoothly past the point fielder for a boundary along the grass.
Smack.
My score smoothly ticked past twenty, then thirty, then forty. Nitin anchored his end well, picking up single runs off the first and fourth balls of every over to keep the rotation moving.
By the 1:30 PM lunch break, Shardashram’s Team A had reached 98 for 1 in 26 overs. I walked into the pavilion tent with my bat on my shoulder, my score sitting at 42* Not Out off 88 balls.
The lunch break lasted forty minutes, but nobody talked about individual milestones. We sat on our kit boxes, drinking water from our plastic flasks while our shirts dried under the ceiling fan.
At 2:10 PM, the umpires called us back out. The afternoon sun was directly overhead now, making the white clay of the pitch look bright and blinding.
The collapse happened within fifteen minutes of the restart.
Nitin faced Joshi from the pavilion end. On the third ball of the over, Joshi landed a flat delivery right into a deep crack. The ball didn’t bounce at all; it just skidded under Nitin’s defensive bat and struck his rear flap dead in front of the middle bails.
"Howzatt!"
The umpire lifted his finger instantly. Nitin was out for 32.
Score: 104 for 2.
Once the captain was gone, the middle-order boys completely panicked under the selectors’ eyes. Kamlesh walked out at number four and lasted only four balls before he tried a wild sweep against Chavan’s off-spin, top-edging the ball straight to short-fine-leg for 2. Amit came in next and got clean-bowled by a straight delivery that kept low under his blade.
Score: 112 for 4.
The tail is out next. I have to protect them and take the bulk of the over myself.
[Tendulkar Sync: 18.0%]
The blue notification line updated in the corner of my vision. The steady, heavy balance of Sachin’s grid settled into my knees.
I stopped looking for singles on the first three balls. I faced Joshi and Chavan alone, blocking the straight balls into the clay and leaving anything wide. On the fifth and sixth balls of the over, I manipulated the gaps, using elegant wrist-flicks and late cuts to find the empty boundaries along the grass, moving my personal score past fifty.
Smack.
My half-century came up off 112 balls. I raised my bat quickly toward the selectors’ box, then took my stance again.
Devendra and Vinay survived by just deadening the ball whenever they faced the final deliveries of the over. We dragged the score run by run through the evening heat, frustrating their spinners until the full forty-five overs were completed.
The main umpire pulled the bails off the stumps, checking his watch.
"Innings over!"
Team A finished their first innings at 164 Runs / 7 Wickets in 45 overs. I walked off the grass unbeaten on 63* Not Out off 134 balls, having carried my bat through the entire session without offering a single half-chance to their slips.
The turnaround lasted ten minutes. I rushed into the changing room, unbuckling my heavy batting pads and reaching for my white sun hat. My arms were shaking from the four hours of continuous gripping, but Coach Kadam was already standing near the door with his whistle.
"Kabir, pads off quickly," Kadam said, checking his sheet. "You aren’t bowling today. Devendra and the Balmohan quicks will handle the new ball. You go stand at extra-cover inside the ring. Keep your eyes on the batsman’s elbow."
I tucked my shirt into my trousers, nodding once. "Yes, Sir."
No bowling. Achrekar sir must have told him to save my shoulder. But standing at cover for forty-five overs after batting for four hours is going to test my legs.
By 3:10 PM, Team B’s opening batsmen walked out to start their chase of 164.
I took my position at extra-cover, seven yards inside the circle on the off-side grass. The turf was hot, the heat coming right through my socks, and my thighs were humming with a dull ache from the morning running.
Devendra opened the attack from the pavilion end, running in hard with the brand-new red ball. He fired a quick, back-of-a-length delivery that jagged away off the seam. Their opening batsman pushed forward blindly, the ball missing his outside edge by an inch.
"Nice line, Devendra!" Sanjay shouted behind the stumps, thumping his gloves. "Keep him back there!"
Standing at cover gave me an entirely helpless view of the match. For the next two hours, Team B’s openers batted with total discipline. They had seen our middle-order collapse against the spin, so they completely refused to hit the ball into the air. They just stayed back, using their feet to blunt Devendra’s pace and milking our senior spinners for easy singles.
I stayed alert on the balls of my feet, lunging left and right to stop the sharp cover drives. On the twentieth over, their number three batsman hit a powerful, low punch straight toward my chest. I dropped my knees instantly, stopping the hard leather with both palms and throwing it back to Vinay in a single motion to save a certain boundary.
"Good fielding, Kabir!" Nitin called out from mid-off, clapping his hands.
But the runs kept bleeding from the opposite end. Our backup spinners were tired, bowling loose half-vollies that got worked cleanly into the deep outfield. Team B moved smoothly to 80 for no loss, then past one hundred.
I kept biting my lip, my hands resting on my knees as I watched the scoreboard tick. I knew exactly how to set up their set batsman through my Akram database—I could see his front foot clearing too early against the spin—but I had to remain stationary at cover, completely unable to bowl a single over. I could do nothing but watch the match slide away into their hands.
Right at 4:30 PM, as the long shadows of the concrete stands covered the entire pitch, the main umpire pulled the bails.
"Stumps!"
Team B finished Day One of the trial match at a powerful 132 Runs / 2 Wickets in 34 overs, needing just 33 more runs tomorrow morning to clear our total.
We walked off the field in silence, our uniforms covered in red dirt, our faces dark with sweat. Nitin dragged his kit bag past the selectors’ table where Vasu Paranjape was closing his notebook. We had one day left, and the selection pressure was sitting heavily on our shoulders.
