Gideon Haigh in writing recently about Jacques Kallis made reference to Amarillo Slim’s advice to players of Texas Hold’ Em: “play fast in a slow game, slow in a fast game”. As is the case with Kallis, Cook’s career strikerate has never crossed 50 once, constantly hovering around the 48 mark, at which it presently finds itself. There are sessions of play when Cook’s batting can seem dour and obstinate, but to accuse it of lacking inspiration would be tantamount to questioning the very pursuit of excellence.

Cook’s 136 (not-out at the time of writing) in the ongoing Eden Gardens Test was once more a statement of purpose and industry, an outstanding example of batsmanship. The pitch admittedly looked placid, but when you consider that India had floundered its way to a relatively meager 316, Cook’s innings stands out even more as a pillar of majesty. Coming as it did on the back of hundreds in consecutive test matches (a fighting effort in vain in Ahmadabad and a match-winning display in Mumbai) there was a feeling of inevitability about this innings—as though it had been foreordained almost. But it was none the poorer for that.

When he’s at his best, Cook’s footwork is a real treat to watch. Not from an aesthetic standpoint, as it can be with, say, Michael Clarke, but through a measure of its effectiveness. It’s staggering, for instance, as Sanjay Manjrekar pointed out in commentary, how deep Cook can go into the crease when playing strokes square of the wicket. There is a minimalism about his footwork, but he is rarely found wanting because of it. He doesn’t plunk his front foot forward nor does he remain utterly still. The only quirk is in his hands, when he lifts his bat backwards in a jerk, but for the most part his batting is a perfect riposte to the ball that is bowled. And the tempo of his batting means that you can zone in and out of the Test, as he moves along like a serene stream.

But every now and then Cook will shock you. Sport, as with any other form of art, is at its best when it catches you by surprise. And what I’ll remember most from his century on Thursday was a six that he hit off Ashwin shortly after lunch—a little hop down the pitch was followed by a wonderfully clean and straight hit that cleared the boundary with ease. It struck the eye at the time, and it continues to resonate even now.

There is something raw and beautiful in seeing a young fast bowler showcasing his talents at the highest of stages. James Pattinson was irrepressible, and irresistible even, during the first test match at the Melbourne Cricket Ground. Reputations didn’t seem to matter to the 21-year-old. He was there to win a test match, and he didn’t care if he had to bounce Sachin Tendulkar and Rahul Dravid – the two highest run makers in the history of the game – or have a word with Virender Sehwag, inarguably the most fearsome of modern-day batsmen. Pattinson charged in ball after ball, remorseless and venomous, and bowled with severe pace and menace. Not that there wasn’t any guile to his bowling, for he is as thoughtful a young bowler that we’ve seen in many years (Mohammad Amir is the only other that comes readily to mind), but it was his raw aggression and pace that was most compelling. He was warned for dangerous bowling when he bowled three consecutive bouncers to Zaheer Khan late on day four – there was a day and age when opposing fast bowlers had pacts against such actions, but Pattinson was impenitent. He said after the match: “I like to go out there and do my own stuff. It’s just the way I play.”

2. Rahul Dravid must be moved out of first slip

Slip fielders, I believe, are to be judged on the number of catches that they drop as opposed to the number that they catch. Rahul Dravid has more than 200 catches in test cricket, many of them while fielding at first slip, but this year he has, perhaps, dropped more than he has held on to. Consider day three: Ravichandran Ashwin lures Michael Hussey, then on 69, forward with a beautifully flighted delivery that finds the outside edge before lobbing to first slip – Dravid, though, grasses the regulation chance. These are moments on which test matches can turn, moments that can cost a game. It’s time Dravid is moved out of first slip; V.V.S. Laxman would be the obvious choice to replace him at the position in the short term, but India may want to consider blooding Rohit Sharma or Virat Kohli as permanent replacements.

3. India’s many batting conundrums

Gautam Gambhir hasn’t made a test match century since India’s defeat of Bangladesh at Chittagong in January 2010. Since then, he’s averaged a meagre 28, with a highest score of 93 against South Africa on a placid pitch at Cape Town in January 2011. In both innings at the MCG, Gambhir fell poking balls that were best left alone – in the first innings on line, and in the second on length. Admittedly, knowledge of where his off-stump lies has never been Gambhir’s strength, but even when seemingly struggling against the moving ball, he would somehow display the chutzpah to make runs. It’s taken India many years to find a stable opening pair, and the selectors’ reluctance to break the Sehwag-Gambhir axis is understandable, but given Gambhir’s drought that has stretched for nearly two years, it’s time for a reconsideration. One of the options is, as always, to promote Dravid to the opener’s slot and play both Rohit Sharma and Virat Kohli in the middle order. But given Kohli’s own struggles against the moving ball, this would hardly be a safe choice. If anything, there is a good case to be made for Sharma, the form player, to replace Kohli at No. 6 – a position which India have struggled to fill since Ganguly’s retirement in 2008 – for the second test at the SCG. This leaves India then with Ajinkya Rahane, a player who failed in both the tour games and is yet to make his test debut.

4. Australia’s batting problems are far from solved

Ricky Ponting scored a fifty in each innings, Michael Hussey produced a timely reminder of his grit and talent – although these reminders often tend to be produced when he is on the verge of being dropped – and in Ed Cowan, Australia seem to have found a steady, old-fashioned opening batsman, but the victory was achieved almost purely through the strength of the team’s lower order batting and fine fast bowling prowess. Were it not for James Pattinson – who shored up the batting in both innings – and Peter Siddle, who batted with a resilience that typifies his game in the first innings, Australia would have quite conceivably faced defeat. With Shane Watson unlikely to be fit for the second test, and with David Warner, in spite of his tremendous effort at Hobart against New Zealand, yet to establish himself at the highest level, Australia’s batting continues to wear a thin look. The silver lining at the MCG, as far as the batting is concerned, however, was Ponting’s form. Admittedly, as has been the case with him in recent times, he failed to convert excellent half-centuries in both innings into a big one, but there were times in the second innings, when he looked like the Ponting of old, particularly when he unveiled those majestic back foot square drives.

5. Zaheer Khan is still the best exponent of the old ball in the world

Twice in the match, Zaheer Khan produced spells of magnetic brilliance with the old ball. Just after tea on the first day, the moment he sensed a hint of reverse swing in the air, he dissected Michael Clarke into shreds, not through pace or any outwardly aggression, but through the most cunning use of the old ball that one is likely to see from a bowler today. In the second innings, he broke the Ponting-Hussey partnership, having the former snapped at gully with a full ball that moved away with the angle, and in the very next over, he used the crease ever so beautifully, while bowling from around the wicket, to snare Brad Haddin. It was all guile and nous and it was wonderful to watch.

* I wanted to add something on the DRS here, but I’m not sure we learned anything new about it at the MCG.

At the batting crease is a lithe figure with golden curls tucked under a baggy green, ready in his stance, bat tapping on the pitch waiting impatiently for the bowler at the other end. At the other end, a slightly tubby figure with a brilliant blue patka who takes a few smooth steps between the umpire and the stumps and in a perfect, almost seamless action delivers a ball that spins in the air and gently curves into the batsman. The batsman flies out of the crease, and in less time than the blink of an eye, reaches the spot where the ball is about to land, bringing the bat down in a smooth curve making contact with the ball producing a sound akin to a champagne cork being popped, dispatching the ball into the cover boundary for a four, going down on one knee as he completes the stroke. The crowd go wild with delight and even the bowler stands applauding at the genius stroke play.

The lithe batsman is once again at the crease and the patka-bedecked bowler has the ball in his hands once again. Another smooth run up and, seemingly without any discernable change in his action, he releases the ball from seemingly the same spot as he did before; just like the ball that was dispatched to the boundary. Except, this is a little shorter but the batsmen spots it and adjusts, rocking back to get into position to cut the ball to the point fence. Except, he can’t as by the time the bat is even half way down the curve, the ball has taken the top of off stump at blistering pace that no one watching could have predicted of the bowler. It takes a few seconds for the batsman to realize he’s been had – the ball wasn’t as short and he should have been forward not back. He smiles as he tucks his bat under his arm and walks away to the pavilion giving an almost imperceptible nod to the bowler’s genius.*

******

By the reckoning of any cricketing aesthete, Kimberly John Hughes and Bishan Singh Bedi count as the two most graceful and aesthetically brilliant players to have ever graced a cricket field. Apart from their aesthetic skills as cricketers, they share quite a few common attributes. Both came from, relatively speaking, cricketing backwaters (West Australia and Delhi/Punjab respectively) that over the course of their careers became cricketing powerhouses in their respective countries. Both were shy young men whom cricket helped to become gregarious outgoing men. Both were marked out for captaincy fairly early on in their careers. Both had enormous tussles with their respective administrations and figures of authority. Both made bitter enemies of colleagues and fellow teammates.

It is probably no surprise that two entirely fascinating biographies have been written about them by Christian Ryan and Suresh Menon respectively.

Hughes is really remembered for two wildly different things; his flashy and brilliant strokeplay that could tear bowling attacks apart in a matter of minutes, and the famous image of him breaking down in tears as he read out the announcement quitting as Australia’s Test captain. The two are not entirely unrelated, and Ryan’s story brings out very clearly a tale of a boy (a Peter Pan like figure, he never seems to “grow up”) who wanted to bat gloriously in a manner that would bring joy to the cricketers and to himself. Yet, his boyish enthusiasm and elan clashes discordantly with the dominant “Aussie way” of grit over clamour and never putting oneself above the team.

The prime villains in Christian’s narrative are those old bullies; Dennis Lillee and Rod Marsh (and to some extent, Ian Chappell). The casus belli being the appointment of Hughes as captain over the more deserving Marsh in 1982. A tiff that was perhaps exacerbated by the fact that Hughes never seemed to be one of the “blokes” who fit into the dominant ideas of manhood and masculinity that seemed to pervade in Australia’s cricketing culture then. Much as Hughes wanted to be liked and loved by all, he seemed to meet with nothing but open hostility from Lillee and Marsh, leading to such unsavoury sights as the fast bowler trying crack his captain’s skull with bouncers in the nets.

Ryan’s narrative is all the more remarkable since it has been pieced together almost entirely through “secondary evidence” as lawyers would call it. The protagonist and the antagonists, though reconciling and becoming good friends later in life, did not go on record with Hughes for the book. We get insights and accounts from other players in the squad, families, friends, and ghosted autobiographies. For all the talk of “for the team” and “the boys” we get an insight into those times when a team stands divided against itself, and what that can lead to. It is perhaps no surprise that all these events co-incided with “Packer’s Circus” and the lowest ebb of the Australian cricket team as a Test Playing nation. Perhaps Simon Katich’s near throttling of Michael Clarke over a silly tiff after losing the series to South Africa is probably was also a similar symptom.

We are left with a few questions unanswered at the end of the book. Under a more supportive captain (as Bedi found in Pataudi) and in a friendlier atmosphere would Hughes have blossomed into a modern great instead of becoming yet another instance of an attractive batsman whose claim to greatness is belied by his poor numbers? Or would he have continued to play in a cavalier fashion putting attractive play over “the team”. Skill and talent with bat he had aplenty as this innings and this innings will put beyond doubt, but did he have that oft spoken, yet nonetheless vital, quality: temperament. His record speaks for itself.

Bedi, on the other hand, entirely lived up to his potential and more, finishing as India’s highest wicket taker. No less than Don Bradman found Bedi the only left arm spinner who could keep the peerless Wilfred Rhodes company in the Hall of Greats. A classical off-spinner if there ever was one, even in grainy youtube videos, Bedi’s grace and beauty in action as he bowls takes your breath away. He mesmerized batsmen with his control and variations, depending on everything from the tip of his fingers to the position of his toes and everything in between to send down those subtle variations that would be just a little bit faster or a little slower or spin a little more or a fraction less than the previous ball without any obvious change in action.

Menon’s work is more in the nature of an authorized biography as it almost unabashedly presents Bedi’s view in all his battles. And Bedi’s had plenty of battles. From accusing John Lever of using Vaseline in India to get swing (and losing a lucrative county contract in the process) to being perhaps the only serious cricketer to continue to accuse Muttiah Muralidaran of “chucking”, Bedi’s never been afraid of speaking his mind on an issue and facing the consequences. Menon gives us the image of an uncompromising man who never compromised on the principles that underlie cricket (fairplay, sportsmanship and gentlemanly behaviour) even at the risk of defeat and censure. He never seemed to care if his decisions were popular or approved by India’s notoriously incompetent and insecure BCCI members – at least that’s what Menon wants us to believe.

On all points we only get one voice, Bedi’s. Did Bedi meet with resistance when he called off India’s innings early in protest against West Indies’ short pitched bowling? Did no one suggest wiser counsel when he accused Lever of ball tampering? We never know as only side of the story is spelt out. These silences leave the reader with a feeling of something missing as we see the fascinating portrait of a cricketer being drawn in words. Perhaps, as Cromwell told his portrait painter, Menon should have gone “warts and all”. Instead, even the slightest hint of acne is daubed over.

Ryan’s book is by far the better work. Not to belittle Menon’s work but in terms of the research on its main character, the story weaved around Hughes’ life and the writing style wise, Ryan far outstrips Menon.

Plus, it has pictures. Where “Golden Boy” is replete with black and white, and gorgeous techni-colour photos of Hughes in his pomp, “Bishan” is sadly bereft of everything but a single portrait of Bedi in his sixties. Perhaps it was the costs involved but Bishan seems like an infinitely poorer book (pun intended) for the absence of photos of its subject in action – an omission on par with a book on Michelangelo not having a single picture of the Sistine Chapel or David.

While Menon tries hard not to fall into the traditional Indian trap of turning autobiographies into hagiographies, the width of sources that Ryan uses and weaves into the narrative almost ensures that his biography is anything but. Menon’s Bedi is a Sikh warrior with a red leather ball who fights with honour, dignity and in the spirit of sportsmanship, even if he doesn’t win all his battles. Ryan’s Hughes is a complex and conflicted character who, much as he tried to bring joy to others with his cricket, saw himself steadily losing joy in playing cricket with some of his tempestuous teammates. Only one of these descriptions comes close to producing a true picture of the subject.

Yet, when we compare the players themselves emerging from these books, the similarities seem to outweigh the differences. Both were undoubtedly geniuses hell-bent on charting their own respective paths in life. Both refused to compromise on the art in favour of the grit. Bedi would not bowl flatter and faster to suit one day cricket and Hughes disdained the work of plodding strokelessly at the crease. Both careers came to a somewhat premature end. Bedi’s career ended at age 32 in Pakistan as the famous Quartet was torn apart by Pakistani batsmen and Hughes career ended at the age of 30 within a year of him giving up captaincy by a string of poor scores in 1984. Bedi’s running battles with the administrators were matched by Lillee and Marsh’s constant needling of Hughes. Yet, where Bedi lashed out and survived, Hughes did not.

However, where Bedi ended a full and varied career giving him a pride of place in India’s cricketing pantheon, Hughes’ career ended with far too many what-might-have-beens.

Bedi continues to be a popular, if controversial figure in Indian cricket; offering anecdotes, analysis and generous help to all comers.

Hughes is all but forgotten in Australia.

___________

*Apologies to Neville Cardus

And the prospect of a mighty upset, yesterday, was what provided the ongoing World Cup with its first dash of allure. No doubt the track at Nagpur was placid, the English bowling hapless and their fielding disgraceful, but a sparkling batting performance by the Dutch unquestionably provided the delight and the merry that the ongoing tournament has thus far lacked. And by making the chase difficult for England, the Dutch ensured that the game remained tantalisingly poised for much of its duration.

At the core of the Netherlands’ excellence was a marvellous all-round showing by Ryan ten Doeschate, who scored 119 off 100 balls with the bat and just as importantly bowled with purpose and economy, finishing with figures of 2 for 47 from his ten overs. As all-round performances in World Cup games go, this is up there with the very best – the Imran Khans and the Kapil Devs would have been proud of a display of this ilk.

Coming into bat at 58-2, ten Doeschate took eleven balls to get off the mark, but not once during the period did he look ruffled, giving the impression of a man utterly confident of his talents. Once he got rolling, he set about his task with breezy ebullience, displaying a particular proclivity for the cow-corner, repeatedly finding either the gap between wide long-on and deep midwicket or the stands behind the fencing. The innings was by no means chanceless – James Anderson at long-on and Kevin Pietersen at long-off allowed a skier when, ten Doeschate was on 47, to fall smack between them – but it was paced to perfection. There was a time when Graeme Swann and Paul Collingwood operating in tandem allowed the batsmen little leeway to play a forceful shot, but ten Doeschate remained serenely disposed, knowing that his time will come. And when Andrew Strauss brought on Pietersen, in collaboration with his batting partner at the time, Tom Cooper, the off-spinner was ripped apart, taken for nineteen runs off his two overs.

After the loss of Cooper and Bas Zuiderant – one of the survivors from the 1996 World Cup – ten Doeschate began to up the run-rate, striking boundaries as and when he pleased. A flick off Graeme Swann for six over midwicket – easily England’s best bowler of the game – showcased the excellence of his timing and the suppleness of his wrists.

The very best batsmen often appear to possess a lot of time to play their strokes – ten Doeschate is no different, possessing an ability to alter his shots at the final moment. After his partnership of 64 runs with Tom de Grooth came to an end in the first over of the batting power-play, he ensured that the field restrictions did not go unutilised, plundering the English attack with disdainful alacrity. His century came courtesy an overthrow from Jonathan Trott that ricocheted off the stumps onto the boundary – an anticlimactic completion of a glorious landmark. After ten Doeschate fell to Stuart Broad for 119, the Dutch aided by some clever batting from their captain Peter Borren and some inept fielding from the English ended their innings on 292. Borren bowled by Stuart Broad in the 49th over was allowed to stay on the field as England had only three fielders inside the 30 yard circle, an incident that epitomised their dreadful day in the field.

Nevertheless, chasing 293 on a flat deck against a rather feeble bowling attack should have been a simple enough task. But England being England made heavy weather of it, needing fine hands from Paul Collingwood and Ravi Bopara to settle the tie in the penultimate over. The Dutch, for the most part, bowled sensibly, with ten Doeschate again proving the star act. It was his dismissal of Ian Bell in the final ball of his spell that made the prospect of a Dutch victory even more tenable. No doubt England ultimately averted defeat and retained an element of honour, but the prospect at the change of innings in particular – and at various junctures during England’s chase – of an upset, provided the World Cup with a sprinkling of allure that it has desperately required. Sadly, there will be no such charm to look forward to in 2015.

View of the IIT Chemplast Ground from the Square Boundary

Anyway, Tamil Nadu were scheduled to play the Railways’ cricket team in a Ranji Trophy Super League Group A game here, and I thought watching a few hours of first-class cricket wouldn’t hurt, especially considering the setting. Braving the rush-hour morning traffic, I reached the venue, on time, at 9:30 AM only to be greeted with the site of grounds-men working furiously to get the field ready. Madras during the monsoons can be rather strange. A glance outside my window in the morning had suggested that, although it was a cloudy day, there weren’t any signs of overnight rain. As it turned out, it had rained in other parts of the city, and particularly harshly at Guindy, where the Ground is located. Not one to be instantly disillusioned, I waited, sitting under one of the giant trees that surround the Ground, reading my book – The Perfect 10 by Richard Williams, in which the author portrays the careers, oddly enough, of eleven different playmakers, ranging from Pele to Zinedine Zidane – but more on that later.

The Ground, from the boundary ropes, looked dry enough, but there were apparently a few wet patches in line with the fast bowlers’ run-ups and near the popping creases on both sides that were worrying the umpires. An inspection was scheduled for 10:30 and I decided to wait patiently until then. The captains, Dinesh Karthik and Murali Kartik, both took a walk to the middle, and as did T.N. seamers, C. Ganapathy and Lakshmipathy Balaji. Any hope of immediate play though was quickly quelled, with the patches near the crease continuing to trouble the umpires. The next inspection was scheduled for 12:00 noon, and I remained optimistic, hoping that even if the action commenced at 12:15, I could still, probably, watch an hour’s play before I had other matters to be concerned with. In the end, the inspection at 12:00 did not convince the umpires enough and the next bit of scrutiny was scheduled a further hour later. So I made my way out, and thanks to Cricinfo, I now hear that only eight overs were bowled, with T.N. ending the day on 26 runs for the loss of S. Anirudha.

The conditions, no doubt, made the visit mostly pointless, but I did get through substantial portions of Williams’s book. In essence the book is a depiction of a group of players, each of whom are his personal favourites, and who were all ‘conventional number 10s’ and celebrated for their playmaking. Essays on Ferenc Puskas; Pele; Gianni Rivera and Sandro Mazzola (a chapter is commonly devoted to the Milanese pair); Gunter Netzer, Michel Platini, Enzo Francescoli, Diego Maradona, Roberto Baggio, Dennis Bergkamp, and Zinedine Zidane constitute a chapter each. Having read a part of the book earlier, I reached up until the chapter in which he describes Bergkamp, by which time I found my thoughts drifting from the book’s contents to the sheer majesty of the Dutchman’s craft.

Much like Williams, I have a special reverence towards playmakers. Growing up as a Manchester United fan in the nineties and the two-thousands, it was rather difficult to appreciate Arsenal and their play, dazzling as it could be. But Bergkamp and Robert Pires – who was of course a wide midfield player – were exceptions in my abhorrence for Arsenal. Bergkamp’s technique, touch, control, passing, and shooting were all a delight, but his exemplary vision was, by far, his most laudable trait. His goal against Newcastle United in 2002, when he pirouetted around centre back Nikos Dabizas with a sublime piece of touch before slotting past Shay Given must surely rank as the finest piece of ingenuity witnessed in the Premier League. There have been goals scored, from tougher angles, with far greater ferocity, and possibly even with superior deftness in touch, but I doubt if any has been as inventive in its construction. It is for moments such as this that we watch sport and to be reminded of it, certainly made my visit worthwhile, even if conditions at IIT-Chemplast played spoilsport.

***

Tomorrow, the first Ashes test will commence at the Gabba in Brisbane. Unlike most previous tours to Australia, the visitors start the series as favourites, overwhelmingly so, in the minds of some. I think, though, the first test could be crucial in determining which way the series goes. Brisbane has seen unusually high amounts of rainfall this year, and while I hope there is enough cloud cover to assist James Anderson and Ben Hilfenhaus to charm us with their swing, I do hope the rain stays away, lest I be consigned to reminiscing about the clever geometry of Bergkamp’s play.

***

Test-match cricket once again has once again proved to be a game of glorious uncertainties. New Zealand, lowly New Zealand, had India on the mat on day four of the first test-match at Ahmedabad. Had it not been for a fantastic partnership between Harbhajan Singh – who scored his first century – and V.V.S. Laxman – whose stock as a man for the crisis is ever-increasing – India could well have come a cropper. New Zealand’s resurgence, though, had much to do with a century each by debutant Kane Williamson, and Jesse Ryder. While they were both fine knocks, Ryder’s century offered a rare pleasure. It’s hard to imagine a man of his build taking part in any other sport of consequence, so to see him succeed gave us a glimpse of the joys that cricket can provide. His century wasn’t belligerent, as you would expect from someone his size, but was measured and methodical. Along with Williamson, Ryder ensured that ‘collectively’, the Kiwis punched well above their weight.

***

Football is a great leveller. Days after their outstanding victory against European champions Inter Milan, Tottenham Hotspur were brought crashing back to earth by Bolton Wanderers who fashioned a 4-2 victory at the Reebok Stadium. Although, Owen Coyle has got Bolton playing some pleasant football – a sharp contrast to the days of Sam Allardyce – much of their strength remains in the aerial ability of their strikers and the bulk of their midfielders. Kevin Davies who scored twice and Fabrice Muamba who covered almost every blade of grass on the pitch were both massive for the Trotters. But amid all the physicality little Stuart Holden, anchoring the midfield for Bolton, impressed the most. The, Scotland born, U.S.A international has shown himself to be an excellent reader of the game. Although he generally keeps his passing neat and tidy, he does possess the ingenuity to cut open a defence, when required.

***

Sunday’s Rome derby – widely regarded as one of the world’s feistiest football ties – failed to live up to its billing. Tactically, though, the battle did offer some elements of fascination. Both teams lined up in strangely asymmetrical formations that saw huge gaps on Lazio’s right and Roma’s left wing. But neither John Arne Riise nor Stephan Lichtsteiner – Roma’s left-fullback and Lazio’s right-fullback – could exploit this space. On the account of the football played, Roma probably deserved the win that they secured courtesy a penalty each from Marco Borriello and Mirko Vucinic. The victory helps keep intact Claudio Ranieri’s record of never having lost a derby in Italy as a manager. The result also sees Lazio’s lead over A.C. Milan at the top of the table trimmed by two points.

***

The league leaders in England, Chelsea, also had their lead slashed to two points after Fernando Torres returned to form to score two splendid goals at Anfield. Roy Hodgson lined Liverpool in a 4-4-1-1 – a system that he had used for most of his time at Fulham – with Dirk Kuyt floating behind Torres, Raul Meireles continuing as a right midfielder, and Steven Gerrard playing as a conventional central midfielder alongside Lucas Levia, who inarguably had his best ever game in a Liverpool shirt. Torres’s first goal, as impressive as it was – a dink over Petr Cech after he had glibly controlled Kuyt’s pass – was eclipsed by his second goal that was a thing of captivating beauty. The Anfield crowd purred with delight as the Spaniard collected Meireles’s ball and curved it around a bemused Cech to find the bottom left corner. Didier Drogba reportedly suffering from a fever was brought on for the second half, but it was to no avail. Liverpool retained their shape with aplomb and controlled proceedings wonderfully well in the second period. After a turbulent start to the campaign, Liverpool are now only 5 points adrift of fourth placed Manchester City. Much work remains to be done at the club, but with Torres and Gerrard – who scored a hat-trick after coming on a substitute against Napoli on Thursday in the Europa League – returning to form, I’d expect Liverpool to secure European qualification with ease.

***

Paul Scholes, remains one of the most influential midfielders in England. Manchester United were utterly awful for much of the 74 minutes they spent without Scholes on the pitch against Wolverhampton Wanderers. Although the little maestro didn’t have a direct impact on the game, the shift in United’s rhythm and tempo upon his arrival was palpable. His slight feints and changes in pace to find space in the middle of the park and the precision of his passing were a joy to behold. United have lost several players under Sir Alex Ferguson’s twenty-four-year rein and have managed to find a way around it, either by means of a straight replacement or a tweak in the system. But replacing Scholes, when he does quit, could well be Ferguson’s hardest ever task, assuming of course that the task does fall upon him and not his successor.

Vijay’s first innings century was probably valuable. Zaheer and Sreesanth’s reverse swing in the second possibly useful, as were the spells of spin bowled by Harbhajan and Ojha. Pujara’s second innings fifty was also significant I guess, but as far as the bigger picture is considered, I was responsible for India’s win in the Second Test.

Ok… me and God himself who scored the double century and the fifty.

Fine… God, me and the sixty thousand odd Bangaloreans who turned up to watch this Test Match over five days.

I’m not being immodest here! Captain Dhoni himself acknowledged my efforts at turning up for the game! I humbly accept the thanks of a grateful nation..

Today’s game wasn’t as close as the Mohali Test, and the match as a contest virtually ended with those two identical strokes by Tendulkar off two consecutive balls from Hauritz. These were no Sehwag-esque slogs and there was no element of brutality in them whatsoever. It was just Tendulkar in such imperious form that he could got down on one knee and send the ball sailing over the deep midwicket boundary with a graceful arc of the bat. Those shots killed whatever hopes Australia had of creating some pressure with a wicket or two as their shoulders dropped when they realized the impossibility of getting past Tendulkar’s blade on this day. The rest of the day after that was basically a formality.

A fifteen year jinx was finally broken. For fifteen years, Bangalore/Bengaluru hosted Test matches without giving the Indian team a taste of success. In each of these Test Matches, Bangaloreans turned out in their thousands on all the days and cheered their team on to little or no avail. The closest India came to a victory at Bengaluru in the last fifteen years was when an unlikely combination of cloudy weather and Anil Kumble bowling seam up nearly dismantled the Pakistani batting, only to be stopped by bad light.

The reports of Test Cricket’s demise are greatly exaggerated of course. At least in India. Sure, the smaller cities like Mohali, Nagpur and Kanpur have struggled to fill up their vast stadia for Tests there, but recent games at Bengaluru, Kolkata, and Chennai have seen packed houses on most days of the match. It’s probably no co-incidence India has won the latter matches in thrilling encounters. A 30,000 strong crowd getting behind the players is probably the difference between winning and losing (or drawing) the match in such tight games.

Not that the following for Test cricket has diminished in India.

Take a walk through any market or crowded place on a Test Match day and you will find dozens crowding around TVs and radios eagerly following the scores. Go to offices with internet connections and you will find workers surreptitiously following the score on cricinfo while pretending to be deeply engaged in work. Should God himself be batting or the chase get exciting the numbers multiply manifold and all productive activity seems to come to an end.

For sheer drama, Test cricket is unrivalled by any sport and the Indian cricket fan knows it. Test cricket fans aren’t restricted to any one demographic and any region. Nothing demonstrated this better than sitting in the stands at the M. Chinnaswamy Stadium. One saw retirees with binoculars and grim expressions who can possibly verbatim recall the commentary on the day Gavaskar made his debut. One saw families with children in tow, fathers patiently explaining to the children (boys and girls, mind you) the intricacies of the game and the significance of proceedings. One saw young men (and no small number of young women), taking a break from work or college to relax and enjoy themselves in the stadium, rooting for their heroes and providing the atmosphere so necessary for the game. It being Bangalore, one heard a smattering of different languages in all directions, Kannada dominating of course, but excited commentary in chaste Tamil and loud cheering in Hindi making their presence felt!

Much as the luminaries of other sports complain, cricket continues to be a national obsession, and on the evidence of the last few days, probably a good one at that.

A Coda:

A young man who’d just finished college and gotten an offer from a top IT firm wanted to watch the game in Bengaluru with his friends to celebrate. On the day before the Test, he bought his tickets from the stadium counter, and headed home on his two wheeler. Minutes from home he met with a terrible accident and passed away on the spot, the tickets still in his pocket and unstained.

His family was (and probably continues to be) in great shock at the loss of someone so young. To console himself and cherish his son’s memory, his father wrote a letter to his son’s hero, Sachin Tendulkar, explaining what had happened and asking for a small memento; a photograph of his son, autographed by Sachin.

The match had already begun and tight security meant it was going to be difficult to get the letter and the photo to Tendulkar. Fortunately, the brother of the bereaved father was an ex-Ranji trophy player and he happened to be in Bengaluru. The letter and the photo were handed to him with instructions to get it to Sachin in any way possible before he left Bengaluru. Eventually, the letter found its way to Ravi Shastri and on the fourth morning of the match, with Tendulkar 9 runs from a double century, Shastri managed to catch hold of Sachin and hand over the letter and the photo, briefly explaining the situation.

Sachin nodded, briefly looked at the letter and went up into the dressing room.

At around lunch time, the ex-Ranji player got a call to come up to the India dressing room. There, Sachin handed over the autographed photo, with a message to the family expressing his condolence at their loss, and also handed him an autographed India cap that he wore during the match.

He kept the letter.

“Why?”

It’s a recent phenomenon I guess, to be forced to offer justifications for leaving the comfort of one’s own tv, sofa, remote and cable connection to watch a Test Match in one of India’s concrete monstrosities, with amenities few, and noise, confusion and danger plenty. Before TV, I guess no one would doubt the superiority of watching a cricket match and one’s cricket heroes in the flesh and blood instead of having to depend on the fickle radio and the evocative descriptions of commentators. With tv, replays, all the information you need to follow a game at your fingertips, why subject yourself to the stadium and its filth to follow Test cricket?

I’ll tell you why.

It’s the only authentic experience as far as Test cricket is concerned.

Not that the filth, dust and crumbling stadia add any charm to it. It adds a level of challenge that one would rather not have to tackle, and one hopes that BCCI and the local associations get their act together and clean up some of our stadia, at least before the coming World Cup. No, there are other, real reasons why watching Test Cricket at the stadium is the authentic experience.

For one thing, TV does not show you everything.

Sitting high up in the stands you see things that you otherwise miss between the replays, the banal chatter of the commentators and of course, the endless, endless ads. You see the subtle changes in the field that take placed when strike changes between batsmen. How Harbhajan has an in-out field for Ponting and a much more attacking one for Hussey. Also how Harbhajan, unlike great spinners, reacts to batsmen and sets fields according to where the ball last went instead of coming with a plan and sticking to it.

You also see how the other players react to not-so-obvious things when the camera forgets to pan to them. Sreesanth’s obvious disappointment at having his spell cut short by Dhoni. Raina and Pujara egging each other on in the field, high fiving good saves and stops.

But all of these things are not trivialities. The other reason why one watches a Test at the ground is the total immersion it offers and the engagement it requires of you. Unlike the action packed adventures that are T20 and ODI cricket, Test Cricket is like a long 3 Act drama with multiple plot lines, twists and turns, and intrigue all coming together for a final denouement (or not… even that is in doubt). Enjoying a Test match requires a level of engagement with the material, so to speak, that TV somehow does not provide. TV is great for watching the action part of the Test Match, but it is the quieter bits, the less obviously action filled sections of the Test Match that make for the complete experience.

Watching Harbhajan try to play on Ponting’s mind with attacking fields; Sreesanth troubling Hussey with late swing away and try to rein in his excitement and keep it going; Ponting grafting and fighting his way through difficulty and then unfurling some glorious drives and ferocious pulls; all of these things require sustained and close viewing to truly appreciate and enjoy. And to truly appreciate and enjoy test cricket, one other thing is needed: context.

It is a much abused word these days on cricket blogs and fora across the internet. This one day series has no context, that T20 match has been thrown in only for money, etc. Context is not just “what-does-this-matter-in-the-grand-scheme-of-things” type context. With Test cricket’s emphasis on drama as much as action, each ball has its context in each over; each over in that spell; each spell for that hour’s play; each hour adds context to the session’s play; each session in that day and so on. Seen merely as a discrete collection of overs and fours, Test cricket loses its meaning and becomes… boring. Watching the game with an understanding of the context is what makes test cricket so compelling and unlike any other sport anywhere else.

Finally, watching Test Cricket in the stadium gives one the sheer aesthetic pleasure of a three dimensional view of cricket. The rhythmic and smooth run up of Sreesanth; the sound of the bat hitting the ball as Ponting drives as being noticeably different from the crack that resounds across the stadium when he pulls it; understanding what 140 kmph is as you watch the bowling from behind the batsman.

All of these make you forget the cramped seat, the deafening noise, the heat and the dust omnipresent in the Indian stadium. Even among the better maintained ones like the Chinnaswamy Stadium. Like the adventurer climbing up a steep, dangerous hill for the view, in the end, it is all worth it.

For the (boring but mostly accurate) report of the day’s play see here.

For a (possibly inaccurate, but greatly funny) version of the same, read this.