To punish wrong, with kindly benefits the doers ply;
Thus shame their souls. . . .
(Thiruvalluvar, translated by G.U. Pope)
Yep, the bowler was appealing. Adam Gilchrist was not amused. 2013, Mohali, Punjab. Gilchrist was playing for the Kings XI Punjab team, against the Rajasthan Royals, in the Indian Premier League. The ball had gone directly to the fielder, and the throw was on its way. Gilchrist, who was backing up at the non-striker’s end, had to scramble to the safety of the crease. Just then, the ball hit Gilchrist on the glove, and ended up in the hands of Ajit Chandila,the bowler. Gilchrist was caught well short of the crease. Chandila immediately dislodged the bails, and appealed for a run-out.
Gilchrist, arguably the greatest wicket-keeper batsman ever in international cricket, was fuming. This was clearly against the spirit of the game. Here was this upstart, no-name bowler, tearing down centuries of tradition. The umpires were caught off-guard by what was happening. An ugly confrontation was about to erupt.
Only one person could defuse the situation- the captain of the bowling team. As luck would have it, the general on the field was one of the finest gentlemen that the game had ever seen. A man with a steely determination, impeccable technique, unyielding spirit and unimpeachable character, Rahul Dravid was a man respected as much for his game as for the class with which he conducted himself.
The irony of the situation was, however, not lost on anybody. Just five years earlier, the roles had been reversed. Dravid had been at the receiving end of a controversial appeal by Gilchrist. This happened in Sydney, Australia in 2008. The stench from that infamous game, to this day, taints the atmosphere of any India-Australia cricket match. Indian fans and players alike are unlikely to forget this game, the cricketing equivalent of “The hand of God goal” game, that the English football fans have had to endure.
The clash was inevitable. Cricket had, but, one empire. The Australians dominated the game much like another island nation that had established an "Empire on which the Sun never sets." The Indian cricket team, initially an itinerant, irritant to the mighty Australians, had gradually grown to become a thorn in their flesh. They reflected the new-found confidence of the Indian nation. Their economy had started to gain strength in the new millennium, and the world could not ignore the reverberations as the mighty Indian elephant thundered ahead. In 2008, as Mukul Kesavan wrote in the Telegraph, "...the two grand narratives of 21st century cricket, India's growing economic clout and Australia's cricketing hegemony, met like unsheathed live wires.
Australia had won the first test match in Melbourne quite handily. The second test was fought more evenly. The cricket was, however, overshadowed by ugly gamesmanship. On more than one occasion, the Australian batsmen had clearly been out, caught, and had refused to walk. While fielding, they had claimed catches that were grounded. One of the Indian players, Harbhajan Singh, was even accused of racially insulting Andrew Symonds from Australia.
The men in charge, the umpires, in a perfect storm, had been equally pathetic. Calling the umpiring as sub-standard would have been insulting to the standard itself. The law of averages would dictate that in a five day game, the erroneous calls would even out between the two teams. However, due to sheer incompetence of the umpires, or for reasons hard to fathom. the game was decidedly being tilted towards Australia, much to the chagrin of the Indians.
A cricket test is as much a war of attrition as it is a clash of skills. By the final day of the match, tempers were frayed, patience was running thin, nerves were raw, and emotions were running high.
Rahul Dravid was the lone warrior on the bridge, holding the Aussies at bay. His was the prized wicket that the Australians needed for the win. Not for nothing was he nicknamed "The Wall". Anything directed at the stumps was met with a defence that could not be breached; every delivery away was left with a saintly dispassion. The fast bowlers had hurled every weapon at their disposal at him, but Dravid had survived. Ricky Ponting, the Australian captain, had to bring on his trundler, Andrew Symonds– hardly somebody who kept Rahul awake at night.
The fateful ball pitched well outside the off-stump; its line and length had been telegraphed to Rahul the minute it left the bowler's hand. Outside the offstump: no stroke. He tucked the bat safely out of harm's way, behind his pads. One more ball safely negotiated. Get ready for the next delivery. Dravid's precise decision-making and measured movements would have made any robotic engineer proud.
The ball grazed Rahul's front pad and landed in the gloves os Adam Gilchrist. Symonds went up in celebration as he appealed for a catch. So did the Australian fielders. Most surprisingly, Gilchrist, glorified by none other than the MCC as to "...encapsulate the Spirit of Cricket" threw the ball up in the air to celebrate a catch. The ball had gone clearly off the pad; only the most rabid of supporters, jaundiced by misplaced patriotism, could have been blind to it.
It is implausible that the wicketkeeper could not have known that the ball had hit the pad and not the bat. The video evidence (see 6:18 of the video clip) suggests that Gilchrist was watching the path of the ball until it reached his glove. As Peter Roebuck wrote in The Age, "...Doubtless the fieldsmen heard a noise, but canvas and wood make different sounds, a fact known to every cricketer. That the bat was hidden away behind the body was surely more obvious from behind."
Gilchrist maintained that he had appealed because of his uncertainty as to whether the ball had hit pad or bat. later, he wrote in his autobiography, True Colors, "...I appealed for something which I genuinely thought was out, and then replays showed that it wasn't. It may have come as a surprise to peter Roebuck and other critics, but I was not perfect...I thought Dravid had hit it. I was wrong!"
The entire episode should have been relegated to the place that it deserved– an inconsequential moment in a fascinating game lasting five days. Umpire Steve Bucknor made sure that it wasn't. he raised the dreaded finger.
R Dravid c Gilchrist b Symonds 38.
Rahul shook his head on his way back to the pavilion– as forceful an act of remonstration that this gentleman cricketer would ever display on the field. India went on to lose the game.
Coming back to Mohali, Punjab, Gilchrist was now at the receiving end of the appeal. He had been caught outside the crease, albeit of a deflected ball. Spirit of the game or not, this was professional cricket with high financial stakes. The bowler was appealing for a runout. Gilchrist was furious and was letting fly some choice epithets.
Rahul Dravid, the captain of the Rajasthan Royals, had to make a decision. In poetic justice, Dravid, the gentleman, stayed true to his colors. He quickly took charge of the situation and prevented it from getting any uglier.
Dravid rescinded the appeal. He walked up to the agitated Gilchrist and calmed him down. The game continued with but a minor hiccup. Rahul's spirit of sportsmanship and sense of ethics had defused a potentially explosive situation.
Rahul was, however, nobody's fool. He knew very well as to how and when to get his point across.
During the Cricket World Cup in 2015, Rahul was in the commentary box. The conversation meandered to the question of appealing by wicketkeepers in the face of a clear, non-catch. Rahul. Rahul asserted that most wicketkeepers, including himself, would appeal for fear of falling out of favor with the bowlers. A fellow commentator suggested that perhaps Gilchrist might be the exception, who would not.
Dravid stated: "Sydney Test– Rahul Dravid, caught Adam Gilchrist, bowled Andrew Symonds, is all am going to say."
"Missed the ball, did yo?" he was asked
"By miles."
Dravid's response was just as good as his cover drive– cool, measured, precise with perfect timing. And then he got ready for the next ball.
Read this story and others in The Goal Keeper in Midfield and Other Sports Stories"- coming soon to amazon.co.in and flipkart.com
The clash was inevitable. Cricket had, but, one empire. The Australians dominated the game much like another island nation that had established an "Empire on which the Sun never sets." The Indian cricket team, initially an itinerant, irritant to the mighty Australians, had gradually grown to become a thorn in their flesh. They reflected the new-found confidence of the Indian nation. Their economy had started to gain strength in the new millennium, and the world could not ignore the reverberations as the mighty Indian elephant thundered ahead. In 2008, as Mukul Kesavan wrote in the Telegraph, "...the two grand narratives of 21st century cricket, India's growing economic clout and Australia's cricketing hegemony, met like unsheathed live wires.
Australia had won the first test match in Melbourne quite handily. The second test was fought more evenly. The cricket was, however, overshadowed by ugly gamesmanship. On more than one occasion, the Australian batsmen had clearly been out, caught, and had refused to walk. While fielding, they had claimed catches that were grounded. One of the Indian players, Harbhajan Singh, was even accused of racially insulting Andrew Symonds from Australia.
The men in charge, the umpires, in a perfect storm, had been equally pathetic. Calling the umpiring as sub-standard would have been insulting to the standard itself. The law of averages would dictate that in a five day game, the erroneous calls would even out between the two teams. However, due to sheer incompetence of the umpires, or for reasons hard to fathom. the game was decidedly being tilted towards Australia, much to the chagrin of the Indians.
A cricket test is as much a war of attrition as it is a clash of skills. By the final day of the match, tempers were frayed, patience was running thin, nerves were raw, and emotions were running high.
Rahul Dravid was the lone warrior on the bridge, holding the Aussies at bay. His was the prized wicket that the Australians needed for the win. Not for nothing was he nicknamed "The Wall". Anything directed at the stumps was met with a defence that could not be breached; every delivery away was left with a saintly dispassion. The fast bowlers had hurled every weapon at their disposal at him, but Dravid had survived. Ricky Ponting, the Australian captain, had to bring on his trundler, Andrew Symonds– hardly somebody who kept Rahul awake at night.
The fateful ball pitched well outside the off-stump; its line and length had been telegraphed to Rahul the minute it left the bowler's hand. Outside the offstump: no stroke. He tucked the bat safely out of harm's way, behind his pads. One more ball safely negotiated. Get ready for the next delivery. Dravid's precise decision-making and measured movements would have made any robotic engineer proud.
The ball grazed Rahul's front pad and landed in the gloves os Adam Gilchrist. Symonds went up in celebration as he appealed for a catch. So did the Australian fielders. Most surprisingly, Gilchrist, glorified by none other than the MCC as to "...encapsulate the Spirit of Cricket" threw the ball up in the air to celebrate a catch. The ball had gone clearly off the pad; only the most rabid of supporters, jaundiced by misplaced patriotism, could have been blind to it.
It is implausible that the wicketkeeper could not have known that the ball had hit the pad and not the bat. The video evidence (see 6:18 of the video clip) suggests that Gilchrist was watching the path of the ball until it reached his glove. As Peter Roebuck wrote in The Age, "...Doubtless the fieldsmen heard a noise, but canvas and wood make different sounds, a fact known to every cricketer. That the bat was hidden away behind the body was surely more obvious from behind."
Gilchrist maintained that he had appealed because of his uncertainty as to whether the ball had hit pad or bat. later, he wrote in his autobiography, True Colors, "...I appealed for something which I genuinely thought was out, and then replays showed that it wasn't. It may have come as a surprise to peter Roebuck and other critics, but I was not perfect...I thought Dravid had hit it. I was wrong!"
The entire episode should have been relegated to the place that it deserved– an inconsequential moment in a fascinating game lasting five days. Umpire Steve Bucknor made sure that it wasn't. he raised the dreaded finger.
R Dravid c Gilchrist b Symonds 38.
Rahul shook his head on his way back to the pavilion– as forceful an act of remonstration that this gentleman cricketer would ever display on the field. India went on to lose the game.
Coming back to Mohali, Punjab, Gilchrist was now at the receiving end of the appeal. He had been caught outside the crease, albeit of a deflected ball. Spirit of the game or not, this was professional cricket with high financial stakes. The bowler was appealing for a runout. Gilchrist was furious and was letting fly some choice epithets.
Rahul Dravid, the captain of the Rajasthan Royals, had to make a decision. In poetic justice, Dravid, the gentleman, stayed true to his colors. He quickly took charge of the situation and prevented it from getting any uglier.
Dravid rescinded the appeal. He walked up to the agitated Gilchrist and calmed him down. The game continued with but a minor hiccup. Rahul's spirit of sportsmanship and sense of ethics had defused a potentially explosive situation.
Rahul was, however, nobody's fool. He knew very well as to how and when to get his point across.
During the Cricket World Cup in 2015, Rahul was in the commentary box. The conversation meandered to the question of appealing by wicketkeepers in the face of a clear, non-catch. Rahul. Rahul asserted that most wicketkeepers, including himself, would appeal for fear of falling out of favor with the bowlers. A fellow commentator suggested that perhaps Gilchrist might be the exception, who would not.
Dravid stated: "Sydney Test– Rahul Dravid, caught Adam Gilchrist, bowled Andrew Symonds, is all am going to say."
"Missed the ball, did yo?" he was asked
"By miles."
Dravid's response was just as good as his cover drive– cool, measured, precise with perfect timing. And then he got ready for the next ball.
Read this story and others in The Goal Keeper in Midfield and Other Sports Stories"- coming soon to amazon.co.in and flipkart.com
east colony srikanth hi dr your are back to form
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