Chapter 29: The Semi-final Day Match [2]
The ACA Stadium was quiet such that Raghav could hear the studs of the bowler smashing on the crease. Rohan Sharma rose out of his crouch.
His face was masked in a calm composure and he wiped his gloves on his thighs. The friendly, understanding lad was now a field general, and had only observed the weapons of the enemy.
He did not yell or panic. He simply adapted.
He raised a glove to stay the game, and walked very coolly to his fast bowler.
On the sidelines, Raghav had a clench in his good hand. ’Here it comes.’
Not only did Rohan talk to his bowler, he began giving orders to the field.
The Gully fielder who was in the off-side was sent over as Rohan indicated on a leg slip position.
He was sealing in the very small hole that Raghav had taken a week to plan the exploitation of.
The excitement caused by Vikram at the boundary struck dead on the Don Bosco bench.
He is aware, Coach Sarma grumbled to himself, lips clenched. ’He’s smart. He’s plugging the leak.’
The fielder who was a leg slipper jogged in, and stood exactly where the previous ball had been sent out four.
The trap had now been neutralized, and to make matters worse, it was themselves who had been turned into a trap.
This is bad, bad, Coach, his Intelligence Boost was running cold, Raghav said to himself. They bowl at the legs now, and our batsmen play the Flick, and the leg slip will get it every time.
"So they stop," Sarma said.
He will not allow them to stop, do not look at Rohan, replied Raghav. Not merely stuffing the hole; he is tempting us.
Ashu, the fast bowler, now had a predatory smirk of hunger. He had been given new orders. He dashed in, his movement, nevertheless, unbroken, but his object was evident.
He threw a good-length ball with a lot of speed straight at the pads of Vikram. It was the same ball which they had been practising in hitting.
The body of Vikram, pierced by a thousand repetitions, moved instinctively, his wrists ready to roll over for the Leg Glance.
But he saw him. The Leg Slip. A new, hungry fielder waiting to devour the "tap.".
Vikram’s mind and body went to war.
Hit it! his instincts screamed.
Stop! It’s a trap! his new training countered.
In that split-second of hesitation, he did neither. He didn’t flick. He didn’t block. He just... froze.
The ball slammed hard into his front pad, right in front of the Middle Stump.
The entire Spring Dale team erupted. "HOWZAT!"
The appeal was deafening. The bowler was screaming, his arms in the air. Rohan Sharma was already on his feet, glove raised.
A terrifying silence fell as the umpire considered.
Raghav felt his heart stop. ’He’s out. He’s plumb.’ Follow current novels on NoveI★Fire.net
The umpire stared. He stared for one second.
Then, slowly, he shook his head. "Not out."
A massive, collective sigh of relief from the Don Bosco bench.
Raghav leaned against the boundary fence, his knees weak.
The umpire had given Vikram the benefit of the doubt, perhaps assuming the ball was pitching just outside the Leg Stump.
But it was a warning. A brutal, terrifying warning.
Rohan Sharma didn’t argue. He just clapped his gloves.
"Good ball, Ashu! Again! He’s trapped!"
The "boring" game was back, but now it was suffocating..
The Spring Dale bowlers, led by their clinical captain, went back to the Off-Side line.
Good Length. Outside Off-Stump.
Vikram and Suresh, the other opener, were forced to just leave. Leave. Leave. Block.
The scoreboard was frozen. 4/0.
Over 5: The pressure was unbearable. Spring Dale was a python, slowly squeezing the air from their lungs.
Suresh, the non-striker, was visibly crumbling. Raghav could see it. He was fidgeting, tapping his bat, his eyes wide.
He wasn’t thinking anymore. He was just feeling the pressure.
And Rohan Sharma saw it, too.
He signaled to his bowler.
The bowler, who had been bowling Off-Side, delivered a surprise ball. A fuller, faster delivery aimed at the stumps.
Suresh, desperate to do something, to break the stalemate, went for a big, booming On-Drive.
But his feet were all wrong.
They were stuck, planted in the crease from so much blocking. It was a wild, desperate swing.
The ball took a faint inside edge.
Rohan Sharma, his weakness to the left now irrelevant, moved to his right. His movement was fluid, perfect. The ball settled into the heart of his gloves.
He didn’t even celebrate. He just tossed the ball in the air. The umpire’s finger went up.
The silence on the bench was absolute. The plan had failed.
They were being surgically dismantled.
Gourav, the next man in, stood up, his face pale. He looked at Raghav, his eyes wide with panic.
"What do I do? The Flick is a trap!"
Raghav grabbed his arm.
"Breathe. Just... breathe. Stick to the other plan. Bore them. Survive."
But Raghav’s mind was on fire. [System Points: 185]. ’System, another Intelligence Boost!’
He needed an answer. Rohan was a genius. He had countered their only strategy.
Rohan, behind the stumps, was repositioning his field again. He had tasted blood.
He moved the Leg Slip back to the Gully position.
’Why would he do that? He’s re-opening the hole.’
He watched Rohan. The captain was directing his bowler.
He was... he was setting up a new field.
Raghav’s mind, supercharged by 27.2 IQ points, analyzed the new geometry.
Gully was back. First Slip. Point. Cover.
It was a standard, aggressive Off-Side field.
’He’s not just plugging the hole,’ Raghav realized, a jolt of ice water in his veins. ’He’s moved on. He thinks the Leg Glance is dead. He thinks he’ve scared us off it. He’s going back to his textbook... because he thinks we’re broken.’
Rohan believed his "shock and awe" (the LBW appeal, the wicket) had terrified them into submission. He was going back to his default, to dismantle them conventionally.
Raghav looked at Coach Sarma.
"He reopened the Leg-Side, Coach," Raghav said, his voice a low, urgent whisper.
Sarma’s eyes narrowed. "He’s bluffing."
"I do not believe so", said Raghav." He is a pompous, a textbook captain. We tore up his textbook, and he scared us and we went back to Chapter 1.....He believes that we will not be bold enough to attempt it again."
Sarma gazed at the field, and then at Vikram, who appeared conquered.
"He’s daring us," Sarma said. It means he knows your trick, and he is not even going to both to defend it because you are too afraid to make use of it.
That was the true emotional note, the true ordeal of their nerve.
At the wicket Ashu, the quick bowler, ran in a second time.
He was obeying the orders of his captain--back to the old time weaker team attack.
He delivered a fast, aggressive ball, aimed right at Vikram’s legs.
It was the same ball as before.
But this time, there was no Leg Slip. The hole was wide open.
Vikram saw it. He saw the bowler. He saw the empty field.
And he saw the ghost of the Leg Slip fielder.
’He’s too scared,’ Raghav thought, his heart sinking..
But Vikram was the one who had faced Thomas. He had survived.
In the last possible fraction of a second, his anger overtook his fear. He was tired of being bullied. He was tired of being scared.
He didn’t just "tap" it.
His wrists, strong from a week of relentless drilling, snapped over with a vicious, controlled violence.
It wasn’t a "tap." It was a shot. A Wristy Flick played with power.
The ball rocketed off his bat.
Rohan Sharma, his weight on his toes, took his "hitch" step to the left.
He was half a second too slow.
The ball, traveling like a bullet, screamed past his outstretched, desperate glove.
It was not a "trickle" to the boundary. It was a statement.
8/1. (The scoreboard had been wrong before, it was 4/1)..
Rohan Sharma stood up, his face ashen.
He wasn’t just beaten. He had been humiliated. He had been out-thought. Twice.
On the sideline, Raghav let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
He looked at Coach Sarma.
Sarma’s face was terrifying. It was the first time Raghav had ever seen him smile.
"Now," Sarma said, his voice a low growl. "The game begins."