A day to remember
EVERY once in a while, cricket has personified the coveted title of “The Gentleman’s Game”. We have witnessed moments when on-field actions have transcended the mind-barriers of victory and defeat, thus helping capture the true essence of sport. Something of a similar sort happened on January 31, 1999, in Chennai, India.
The 1999 Chennai Test between India and Pakistan was one such classic which truly lived up to the occasion and firmly established Chennai’s “sporting crowd” reputation.
It won’t be an exaggeration to say that the inventors of the game would have had similar pictures in mind as the one that unfolded in Chennai.
It was a renewal of the mother-of-all cricketing rivalries. India and Pakistan faced-off after a decade of the ceasefire. A cliffhanger of a match, see-sawing till the very end. It would have tested even Nostradamus to predict the winner.
RELIVING THE MEMORY
It was a chilly Sunday afternoon. With the usual power cut in our colony, we had to resort to radio’s running commentary. The streets in my home town wore a deserted look, as if the human race was on verge of extinction.
It wasn’t the dip in the temperature – rather, some extra-terrestrial forces that kept everyone home.
It was the Great Man himself, all alone and standing tall against arguably the planet’s best bowling attack, which included the trio of Wasim, Waqar and Saqlain at the peak of their prowess. It seemed as if God, with the bat in his hand, just wanted to have a ball.
TEST CRICKET AT ITS BEST
It wasn’t a very promising start to the Pakistan first innings, quickly collapsing to 91 for 5.
Yousuf Youhana and Moin Khan, along with tail-enders, somehow stabled the ship and guided Pakistan to 238. What’s more, India struck a quick 48 (for no loss) by the end of the first day’s play, giving India the upper hand on the first day.
However, the famed Indian batting line-up, except Ganguly, succumbed to the accuracy and guile of Pakistani bowlers, led by Saqlain Mushtaq.
India folded on 254, gaining a slender 26-run lead. In second essay, Pakistan, riding on Afridi’s 141, a blinder of an innings, set India a challenging
target of 271 runs in the final innings.
THE LONE WARRIOR
The chase couldn’t have started more disastrously. India lost both its openers to Waqar with just six on the board. These are the kinds of situations that separate the men from the boys.
On a rapidly deteriorating pitch, with Pakistani bowlers breathing fire, in came Sachin Tendulkar, looking to make amends for his first innings’ duck. Sachin took charge but kept losing partners at regular intervals and India was left teetering at 82 for 5.
Then, Sachin was joined by Mongia at the crease. The duo, defying the spirited Pakistanis, combined for a 136-run partnership and guided India to a relatively comfortable position.
Soon, Mongia fell to a brain-fade moment, but Sachin kept battling the opposition bowlers – as well as his aching back. Despite the immense pain, he was executing his shots with surgeon-like precision; while painkillers and a bag of ice cubes provided him interim relief.
However, to the sorrow of millions of Indians, Sachin’s lower back decided to betray him at this critical juncture.
THE HEARTBREAK
With pain threatening to get the better of his patience, he decided that an all-out attack was the only option left and started taking calculated risks.
And then came the heart-break moment, as if somebody had made the entire nation mute.
In the 92nd over of the innings, Sachin misread a Doosra from Saqlain and lofted a miscued shot to Akram. When Sachin was dismissed, India needed a meagre 16 runs, with three wickets in hand, but as history would have it, India ended up on the losing side.
After taking India agonisingly close to the target, he had to walk back crestfallen.
It was a masterclass of skills, technique, physical endurance, patience, strategy – it had everything a cricket purist could ask for. His gladiator-esque innings lasted close to seven hours.
Mushtaq once in an interview said, “Sachin’s wicket in the 1999 Chennai Test remains my most prized possession even today.”
A SPORTING GESTURE
Though it was Pakistan who came out triumphant the post-match scenes at the Chepauk might have misled you to believe otherwise.
Contrary to what one might have expected, the crowd, instead of heading home, stayed at the ground and cheered the winning Pakistani team as they took a lap of honour.
They had come in huge numbers to support the home team but were still gracious enough to acknowledge the fact that the opponents were slightly better on the given day.
It was an unforgettable moment. I am yet to come across a parallel for this gesture anywhere else in world sport.
When the entire 40000 crowd gave a standing ovation to the players of “the enemy” nation, it made everyone realise how sport can act as a tool to bridge the gap between the two warring nations.
Shaharyar Khan, former PCB chief and then Pakistan team manager, in his book A Bridge of Peace, rightly mentioned that “the positive goodwill that the Chennai crowd emitted surpassed anything that had happened at the popular level in 50 years of Indo-Pak relations”.
It was a victory of the sport. On-field performances of players, as well as the crowd’s behaviour, won many a heart.
It remains a date every Indian cricket-lover still remembers, albeit with a touch of sadness.