An Unprecedented Triumph
The best of the series was saved for the last; legends were created in Brisbane 2021.
Before each ball, he holds his bat up about chest high, like a tennis player about to volley at the net, to double check whether his grip on the handle is correct. He makes an adjustment if need be and takes guard, his bat hovering over the ground after a few customary taps and his hawk-like eyes meticulously watching the incoming delivery. It rises up at him a breakneck speed and almost breaks his neck. Then his arm, then his elbow, his shoulder, his ribs, his fingers. One stays low due to the variable bounce and rattles the inside of his helmet grill as he tries to duck under it. He is left disoriented, bruised, stung, sore, and hurt beyond belief. He picks himself up and does it all over again.
Because that’s the kind of player he is.
It’s like Cheteshwar Pujara decided to act out the physical and emotional journey of the Indian cricket team from the 1st Test up till now in a final show-stopping performance of the most epic proportions. Punished all over the body, which at times defended more balls than his bat did, Pujara played in the manner only he can in order to thwart an Australian attack which produced one of its most hostile bowling spells of the series. He faced 211 balls and remained at the crease for 314 minutes. That’s 210 times an Australian bowler went back to his mark dejected that yet again their plan to dislodge Pujara had failed. That’s over five hours of Pat Cummins, Josh Hazlewood, Mitchell Starc, and Nathan Lyon slowly depleting their finite energy levels in pursuit of a solitary wicket. By the time Pujara’s vigil had ended, Australia still needed six more wickets and India needed 100 more runs to win. And the bowlers needed new legs.
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Shubman Gill became old enough to drink alcohol just last September. Today he smacked Mitchell Starc for 6,4,4 in the same over with a flurry of shots all around the ground. He had missed out in the first innings of the Test to get out for his lowest score of an otherwise promising series; he would have wanted to get some more runs under his belt here. But it was the fifth day of a Test match, the pitch was breaking down, and this Australian fortress was impregnable since 1988. But Gill didn’t bother himself with the history of it all, neither was he overawed by the occasion. He had seen his fellow teammates put on a brilliant counterpunch of a partnership just a couple days ago. Washington Sundar and Shardul Thakur, on debut, had made batting look easy for the most part on Day 3; this was as far back in history that Gill cared to study.
Other than launching Starc out of the attack, Gill laid the foundation to an improbable chase while Pujara stood firm at the other end. The audacious stroke play and the nonchalant way in which he showcased it was astounding. Very few batsmen, in just their third Test, can construct an innings with this type of substance with such supreme, unwavering confidence. He cut, pulled, hooked, drove, punched, and batted with the kind of freedom you would expect from someone with nothing to lose and all to play for. Freedom begets mistakes. And he was bound to make some. He wasn’t in complete control of some shots, especially the short length snorters that went up and invariably landed tantalizingly close to a fielder. But never did he let a false shot cause any self-doubts, he kept pushing. Gill lived dangerously for a little bit while Pujara lived through danger at the other end. By the time he departed trying to drive the spinner, nine runs short of a maiden century, Australia were back in the hunt and still very much in the game. But India had started to believe.
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Belief personified was Rishabh Pant in the third Test at Sydney. This wasn’t quite déjà vu, but the situation in Brisbane was eerily similar except for a few key differences. Gill had already played a Pant-like innings, the target was considerably less, and the pitch was considerably worse. Pujara, as always, was the only immovable constant between the previous match and this one. Pant had missed out on a century last time around and more importantly on a chance to win the match. He had some unfinished business to take care of.
‘Rishabh Pant? Oh, he isn’t even the best wicket-keeper in the squad.’ He came down the pitch to hit Lyon for six over long-on right after being bamboozled by a ball that spun a mile. ‘Rishabh Pant? He throws away his wicket that young man.’ He slashed through the covers as Hazlewood steamed in. ‘Rishabh Pant? He is only an IPL player it seems.’ He pulled another one from Hazlewood over fine leg for four while losing his balance and tumbled to the ground like a baby learning to walk. ’Rishabh Pant? Was that him singing the Spiderman tune in the middle of the Australian innings?’ He took on the duty of guiding his team to an unprecedented victory after Pujara fell. Pant at Sydney was pure adrenaline; Pant at Brisbane was a display of controlled aggression and inimitable flamboyance. What is it with left-handed No. 5 batsmen and incredible Test match chases? And what is it with them doing it against Nathan Lyon?
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Lyon was supposed to finally have a good day at the office. The veteran spinner had performed well below expectations this series. But he was playing his 100th Test. He had scored some handy runs in both innings to help extend Australia’s lead. Fifth day of a test match is when your leading spinner has to dominate. He could only manage two wickets on the final day of the Sydney Test. The pitch there had surprisingly stayed true but the Gabba pitch had significantly deteriorated by the fourth day. The whole world expected Lyon to get some serious turn from the cracks on the pitch. But instead it was the pitch that turned on him. He could only dismiss Gill and then Washington Sundar who tried a reverse-sweep after an enterprising cameo. Lyon was four scalps shy of 400 wickets before the Test. He finished the day on 399. It was that kind of day at the office.
Pant put in a Man of the Match worthy performance. But he could only do so because Pujara and Gill batted the way they did. For every boundary Pant smoked down the ground there was a blow to the body Pujara endured like Rambo. For every run that brought India closer to the target there was a delivery bravely bowled by a barely fit Navdeep Saini. For every injury that set them back there was a replacement who restored hope. A Shardul, a Washington, a Natarajan, a Siraj. They all played their part admirably.
The winning runs did come off Pant’s bat, but they might as well have been scored by every single member of this squad, from the seventh choice bowler to lead physiotherapist.
Because that’s the kind of team this is.