Published: Apr 22, 2011, 11:13 AM (IST)
Edited: Mar 21, 2014, 11:29 AM (IST)
By Golandaaz
Chetan Sharma did not have a particularly bad debut in Tests. It was against Pakistan in Pakistan and he bowled quite admirably. However, it was Azeem Hafeez who stole the show for Pakistan in that Test. Yes, he was the bowler with the missing middle fingers.
Chetan’s debut series had to be abandoned midway due to the assassination of Prime Minister Indira Gandhi. Perhaps that was a bad omen. It wasn’t an auspicious start to his career.
Normally a cricketer who wins a Test for you at Lord’s, scores ODI 100 as a pinch hitter in a global tournament and secures a World Cup hat-trick should have had a decent career. Chetan didn’t. That last ball six 25 years ago, defined his career. And the man who hit it was not an Ijaz Faqih or a Mansoor Elahi. It was the great Javed Miandad.
Anyone lesser known, and probably the six would have passed as a freak incident. Miandad made it count. For more than a decade he used it to play on India‘s psyche.
Its funny, I remember each of Chetan’s achievement fairly vividly. I remember where I was and the emotions as the events were captured live on TV or radio or via news reports.
It was the summer holidays when Dilip Vengsarkar‘s 3rd consecutive century at Lord’s and Chetan’s five-wicket haul wickets negated Graham Gooch‘s 100 at Lord’s. Updates were largely via news reports on All India Radio. Being away from Bombay meant no TV. I don’t know how, but even without statsguru, Circinfo previews and pre-game shows, I was aware of the significance of winning a Test Match at Lord’s. I also knew it’s not something that’s going to happen frequently. That is the pull of Test match cricket, you somehow know what you need to know and appreciate the game.
I was at home, watching live TV and delirious with joy as Chetan claimed his hat-trick against New Zealand
The local train on the Central railway was jam packed – something only someone from Bombay can appreciate what I’m taking about. Yet every run Chetan scored against England on his way to his maiden 100 was relayed across the whole compartment. Someone had a transistor on board and was keeping us updated. Riding on Chetan’s 100, India beat England in the Nehru Cup.
When Miandad hit that last ball six, I was at home alone watching it live on TV and relaying almost the entire last over to a stranger on the phone. The man had called through out the day to get updates. I think he was a co-worker from my father’s work place.
I don’t know his name. I did not ask. If he said it, I was not listening. He wanted to know the score and there was no need for any other formalities to be exchanged. Actually I am not even sure if he said he was my father’s co-worker. May be I simply assumed. There are no pre-requisites or pre-conditions to share scores.
I remember telling him a run out opportunity was missed. That would have closed the deal for India and Chetan would have had a more celebrated career. With four needed off the last ball, as Miandad deposited the tamest of full tosses to the stands, I said. “It’s a six!”
The next thing I hear is the dial-tone.
How rude I thought. I was mildly angry, not because India lost the game after being so close, but because the man hung up on me. That’s not how cricket enthusiasts, even if they are across generations, should treat each other.
I was probably 15 then.
Ever since, I can watch any game of cricket, even an India-Pakistan game with a weird sense of detachment.
The combination of Chetan and talking to a rude stranger on the phone did it for me.
(Golandaaz is a blogger @ Opinions on Cricket and likes to see the humorous side of the game. He often sketches cricketers in black and white. You can follow Golandaaz his blog on twitter @oponcr andfacebookOpinions on Cricket)
