Chapter 32: The Semi-final Day Match [5]
[Score: 45/2. Gourav: 11*, Ajit: 0*]
Vikram’s bat clattered against the bench leg. He sat down hard, burying his face in his hands.
The brief, heroic high of his boundaries had evaporated, leaving the bitter taste of a foolish, emotional mistake.
On the field, Ajit, the new number four, was just arriving at the crease.
Raghav, on the sideline, watched him with an analyst’s cold eye. He could show Ajit’s fear. It was in the way he adjusted his thigh pad. The way he tapped the crease, tap-tap-tap, a nervous, rabbit-heart rhythm.
He looked up, his eyes wide, taking in the vast, silent stadium and the Spring Dale fielders, who were now buzzing like sharks that had tasted blood.
Rohan Sharma, back behind the stumps, was no longer the frustrated, out-thought captain. He was back in control. The frantic energy was gone, replaced by a cold, patient focus. He had his opening.
He signaled to his fast bowler, Ashu. The message was clear: Attack.
Ashu, still steaming from Vikram’s earlier assault, was more than happy to oblige. He was at the end of his over, but he had three balls left to deliver to the new, terrified batsman.
[Ball 8.4] Ashu thundered in. He delivered a fast, searingly accurate ball on a Good Length, just outside the Off-Stump.
It was a classic "tester" ball.
Ajit, his mind a white fog of panic, barely saw it. He just reacted, bringing his bat down in a clumsy, vertical Block.
The ball hit the shoulder of the bat and dropped, harmlessly, at his feet.
The Slip cordon groaned. "He’s scared!"
[Ball 8.5] Ashu, smelling blood, dug the next one in Short. A Bouncer, aimed right at the grille.
Ajit wasn’t Vikram. He didn’t have the arrogance to Pull. He just collapsed, his knees giving way, ducking so low his helmet almost touched the ground. The ball whistled over him.
Rohan caught it with a contemptuous sneer. "No stomach for it, boys!"
[Ball 8.6] The final ball of the over. Ashu, seeing Ajit was weak on the back foot, went full. A fast Yorker, aimed at the toes.
Ajit, expecting another Bouncer, was too late. He just jammed his bat down.
The vibration rattled his teeth, but he had kept it out. He had survived.
[Score: 45/2. Gourav: 11*, Ajit: 0*]
Ajit, his legs feeling like jelly, made the walk to the non-striker’s end. Gourav, who had been the "support" batsman for Vikram, now had to be the senior partner.
"Breathe," Gourav said, his voice tight. "Just... breathe. Forget them. Just watch the ball."
Ajit just nodded, his throat too dry to speak. He was remembering Coach Sarma’s words.
’Don’t be a hero. Be a wall.’
A wall doesn’t hit back. A wall doesn’t get scared. A wall just... stands.
He repeated it, a mantra in his head. Be a wall. Be a wall.
Rohan, seeing his fast bowler was spent, took him off. He brought back his left-arm spinner. It was time for the squeeze.
He also made a field change. The "tap" shot that Vikram had used? Rohan wasn’t going to be fooled again.
He moved a fielder into a permanent Leg Slip position.
The "easy" run was gone.
Raghav, on the sideline, saw it instantly.
"He’s adapted," Raghav said to Sarma. "He’s plugging the Leg-Side."
"Good," Sarma grunted. "Makes him weaker somewhere else. They just have to find it."
But Gourav and Ajit weren’t looking for gaps. They were looking for survival.
[Ball 9.1] A flighted, looping ball. Gourav, who was now the set batsman, pushed it to Cover. No run.
[Ball 9.2] Another. Gourav blocked.
[Ball 9.6] The entire over was a maiden. The pressure was building again.
[Score: 45/2. Gourav: 11*, Ajit: 0*]
The next over, from a new medium-pace bowler, was the same.
[Ball 10.1] Good Length, on Off-Stump. Ajit, his mantra echoing, played a perfect Forward Defensive Block.
[Ball 10.2] Same ball. Ajit blocked.
[Ball 10.3] The bowler, frustrated, tried a Yorker. Ajit blocked.
He was a wall. It was ugly. It was boring. It was excruciating to watch.
And it was exactly what his team needed.
On the fourth ball, the bowler, desperate, strayed onto Ajit’s pads.
[Ball 10.4] Ajit, his confidence growing by the second, didn’t try the "tap."
He just nudged it, a simple, soft push into the Mid-Wicket gap.
Ajit was off the mark.
The Shanti Vidya Mandir School bench clapped, not with the wild joy of a boundary, but with the grim, respectful applause for a soldier who had won a small, vital trench.
[Score: 46/2. Gourav: 11*, Ajit: 1*]
And so, the game found its new rhythm. The "grind."
The partnership, built not on flash but on pure, stubborn grit, began to form.
Gourav, seeing Ajit’s resolve, settled down. He was the aggressor, but he was a smart aggressor. He waited for the bad ball.
50/2 (in the 13th over).
Rohan Sharma was getting agitated. This wasn’t in his script.
The weaker team was supposed to collapse after the hero got out. They weren’t collapsing.
They were... blocking.
He urged his spinner to be more aggressive, to flight the ball, to tempt them.
The spinner, trying to buy a wicket, bowled one Short.
[Ball 14.3] It was a terrible ball. Short, wide, and slow.
Gourav’s eyes lit up. He rocked back, his feet moving into position, and unleashed a furious Cut Shot.
The ball flew past the Point fielder before he could even move. Four runs.
The first boundary in nearly six overs.
Raghav let out a sharp "Yes!" from the sideline.
[Score: 62/2. Gourav: 21*, Ajit: 5*]
The partnership was now over 30 runs. They were rebuilding. They were taking Shanti Vidya Mandir School to a place of respectability.
Gourav was playing with maturity, punishing the bad ball, respecting the good.
Ajit was an immovable object, blocking everything, and nudging a single whenever the ball strayed onto his legs.
They were heading into the 18th over. Only three overs left. Rohan Sharma was running out of time.
He had to break this partnership.
He made his last, desperate move. He brought his ace, Ashu, back on for his final over.
"This is it, Ashu! Everything you’ve got!" he yelled.
Rohan was a "textbook" captain. And the textbook said: when you need a wicket, you set an attacking field.
He packed the Off-Side. A Gully. Two Slips. A Point. A Cover.
He was daring them. "Try to score," the field placement screamed. "I dare you."
Raghav saw it. "He’s suffocating them. He’s setting the classic Off-Side trap."
Ashu, finding his last reserve of energy, ran in. He was bowling to Gourav, the set batsman.
[Ball 17.1] Fast, Good Length, on the Off-Stump corridor.
Gourav, his discipline absolute, let it go.
[Ball 17.2] Same ball. A perfect copy. Gourav let it go.
[Ball 17.3] Ashu, frustrated, pitched it up, fuller, trying to get the Drive. Gourav, his feet firmly planted, Blocked it.
The pressure was immense. A maiden over at this stage would be a victory for SDI.
[Ball 17.4] Ashu pulled his length back. Not a Bouncer. Not Good Length. It was the trap ball. Short-of-a-Good-Length, just wide enough of Off-Stump to be tempting.
It was designed to look like the Cut Shot Gourav had hit for four.
But it was too close to his body. It would cramp him.
Gourav’s eyes lit up. He saw the width. He saw the boundary. He remembered the crack of his last four.
He went for the Cut Shot.
But just as Raghav had seen in his mind, he was cramped. He was trying to hit a ball that wasn’t there to be hit.
A thin, fatal Outside Edge.
The ball flew, fast and low, to Rohan Sharma.
Rohan, who had been waiting for this exact, pre-planned mistake, moved to his right.
His gloves were soft. The ball nestled in. He was up, roaring, before the umpire’s finger was even raised.
[Score: 78/3. Gourav: 32. Ajit: 8*]
The partnership was broken. Gourav, the senior batsman, was out.
He walked off, slamming his bat against his pad, furious at his own impatience.
A new batsman, Sunil, was walking in.
And Spring Dale was alive.
[Ball 17.5] Ashu bowled to the new batsman. Sunil, his nerves shot, swung wildly. He missed.
[Ball 17.6] Ashu bowled a Yorker. Sunil just managed to get his bat down. A dot ball. The over ended.
[Score: 78/3. Ajit: 8*]
Rohan, a ruthless tactician, took his spinner on.
[Ball 18.1] Spinner to Sunil. A flighted, tempting ball. Sunil was new, he wanted to be the hero. He ran down the pitch, swinging for the stands.
He missed. Completely.
The ball turned, sailed past his wild swing, and...
It hit the Middle Stump.
[Score: 79/4. Ajit: 8*]
It was a collapse. The Shanti Vidya Mandir School bench was silent.
[Ball 18.2] New batsman, Rakesh. He blocked
[Ball 18.3] Rakesh tried to sweep. He missed. LBW appeal. Not out.
[Ball 18.4] Rakesh, in a panic, pushed the ball to Cover and ran. A suicidal single.
Rohan threw the ball, but the throw was wide.
[Score: 80/4. Ajit: 9*]
Ajit was back on strike. The "Wall."
He blocked the last two balls of the over.
Now, only the 20th and final over remained. Ashu, the fast bowler, was back.
[Score: 80/4. Ajit: 9*]
Ajit was batting with the tail-enders. He knew he had to do something.
[Ball 19.1] Ashu ran in, tired but still fast. He bowled a Full Toss, a mistake.
He swung. He wasn’t a hero, but he was a survivor.
He swung with all his might.
He got a thick Outside Edge.
The ball flew, high and ugly, over the Slip cordon. It wasn’t pretty.
But it was four runs.
[Score: 84/4. Ajit: 13*]
[Ball 19.2] Ashu, furious, bowled a Bouncer. Ajit ducked.
[Ball 19.3] Ashu bowled a Yorker. Ajit blocked.
[Ball 19.4] Ajit, seeing the Mid-On was back, nudged the ball and ran a hard single.
[Score: 85/4. Ajit: 14*]
The tail-ender, Rakesh, was on strike.
[Ball 19.5] Ashu bowled. Rakesh swung. He was bowled.
[Score: 85/5. Ajit: 14*]
[Ball 19.6] The last ball of the innings. The new batsman scrambled a single.
[Innings End. Score: 86/5. Ajit: 14*]
The team walked off the field. The total was 86 runs. It felt impossibly small. In 20 overs, it was a run rate of just 4.3.
The players were silent, dejected. They avoided eye contact. They had survived, but they hadn’t won.
Raghav, his cast heavy, stood by the boundary.
Coach Sarma waited for the last player, Ajit, to walk off.
Ajit, his face caked in sweat and dirt, looked at the coach, expecting to be yelled at. Official source ıs n0velfire.net
Sarma just put a heavy hand on his shoulder.
"You were a wall, son. Good work."
The team gathered in a tight, nervous circle on the grass.
"That’s it?" one of the bowlers whispered. "86? They’ll get that in 10 overs."
Coach Sarma’s shadow fell over them. He looked at their downcast faces.
"They are the champions," he said, his voice a low growl. "They are the ’Surgeons.’ And you made them ugly. You made them angry. You made them panic."
"86 is not a score. It is a fight. It is what you earned with blood and patience. It’s a statement that says we will not lie down."
He looked at his bowlers.
"They think this is over. They think the hard part is done. They are relaxed. They are arrogant."
He leaned in, his eyes burning.
"Do not let them breathe. 86 runs... is more than enough."