The final cut

The sun was up, dominating the sky, waiting, like everyone else in the stadium. The day had finally arrived! It was a moment of delight for some of the bowlers whom he had clobbered all around the park for years. Everyone in the cricketing world had wished this day wouldn’t come, but then time always has the last laugh. After years of prominence and glory, he had decided to hang his boots.

He stood gazing at the lush green outfield of his beloved home ground on the morning of his final game. His entire career flashed in front of his teary eyes. The mood was awkward. He recalled something someone had said on the occasion of the latter’s last game 10 years ago.

“The final game is like the penultimate stage of death. You see everything that you ever did on the field”

The pressmen and the photographers were all around him. They had haunted him for 20 years and the last day was no different. He had never been in the news for the wrong reasons at any point of his career. There had been moments when his ability and integrity were doubted. But every time such an occasion arose, he seldom opened his mouth and was content to let his bat do the talking instead. Arrogance and hubris had ruined the lives of several cricketers, but this man stayed the same throughout his 20 years of fame

His sentiments were quite unique. Starting from his red colored socks, padding his left leg first, wearing his helmet throughout his innings, praying to Lord Ganesh before every game …, the routine never changed. And today, for one final time, he donned his whites and padded up to get ready to face the storm in the arena.

The openers got off to a flyer of a start. The ball was coming on to the bat pretty well and the pitch looked an easy one to bat on. But, two quick wickets saw the moment arrive, which everyone was waiting for.

The great man rose, flipped the straps on his gloves and started to take his final walk towards the pitch. The scene was quite incredible! A silence like now had never been heard before. Everyone stood on their feet and welcomed the man with silence for the very last time.

“I doubt even if the president of India would command such respect”, remarked one of the TV commentators.

Slowly the silence was replaced by a thunderous round of clapping and chanting. For the way this person had carried himself throughout his life, nobody could ever think of hating him for any reason. People of all ages shed tears as he took guard.

Amidst all the drama in the stadium, the fiery Aussie quicks started their onslaught on the men at the crease. The great man stood rock solid. He had the occasional ball that troubled him, but he refused to settle for anything that was less than what he deserved.

For people who had seen the man play the game during the pinnacle of his form, they could easily observe the absence in his usual magic. His bat was no longer the angel’s wand that would make an extraordinary bowler look like a mediocre one. His running between the wickets was no longer quick enough. He looked much slower when compared to his young partner who was running like a hare. Just as the lunch interval neared, an outswinger whizzed past the outside edge of his bat.

“Phew!! That missed the edge by a whisker”, said one of the commentators….

“Yeah! But before 5 years, the same ball would have been flying to the backward point boundary”, replied his co-commentator.

The great man watched as the ball missed his bat. He looked embittered. He was a master of the cut shot, and anything with width outside the off was murdered to the boundary ropes. His hand-eye co-ordination wasn’t the same as it used to be.

“I guess I am done….” he said to himself. He was scratching around and was desperately trying to hang in and give India a chance to save the test match. It was only a question of time before the moment of pain arrived.

Very soon, the great man swung his ‘sword’ like bat to a produce another of his famous cut shots, but without much success. His most favorite shot had ended his cricketing career. He didn’t look at the umpire and without any hesitance; he started his long walk back to the pavilion. He had just scored 19 and it wasn’t good enough to pull his side out of the mess.

The spectators couldn’t believe the happenings for a moment. Everybody had come in to see the master make a ton and all of them felt let down. Nevertheless, everyone was up on the feet again. They started clapping as he slowly walked back. Every Australian player came and patted him on his back.

“Thank you for all the entertainment”, said the shrewd Aussie captain. He gave a timid nod, managed a smile and continued walking.

Tears rolled down his cheeks. Trying to control his emotions, he could not. He wiped his tears as he removed his helmet. Holding his bat high in the air, he kissed the Indian flag on his shirt and looked at the sky as if to thank the almighty. As he neared the boundary rope, he stopped for a moment and took a complete 360º view of his adored field. He had sweet moments in every inch of the field. To everyone’s surprise, he went down on his knees and kissed the field as if to bid farewell. Finally, when he was done, he waved his bat to the entire stadium as he disappeared inside.

He was gone for good…, but his legend will still continue to haunt the cricketing world and our minds.