World Cup 2007: The Fernando Finish

April 4, 2007. The game hung in balance, then heavily tilted towards one side and finally oscillated like a pendulum gone crazy before Dilhara Fernando hit the stumps. Arunabha Sengupta recalls the heart-stopping Sri Lankan win which left skipper Mahela Jayawardene wondering how much more his nerves could withstand.

At Providence, a Lasith Malinga act had rattled stumps and upturned logic again and again before they had been edged out by South Africa by the thinnest of margins after.

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And a week later, on that April afternoon, as Mahela Jayawardene walked out of the North Sound ground of Antigua, it was relief rather than triumph that made itself manifest on his careworn face.

How many more close encounters can we take — the skipper seemed to wonder; and with very good reason.

When three wickets had fallen in a jiffy, the Super Eights game had abruptly swung in the Lankan way after hovering heavily in favour of England. Whilst Ian Bell and Kevin Pietersen had put on a breezy 90 in 20 overs, England had been cruising. And then the equation had done a quick about turn.

First Muttiah Muralitharan had spun his web of wizardry around the spinner-slaying blade of Kevin Pietersen. Tied down by the infinite variations, the talented maverick had tried to turn a doosra off the middle stump to the leg. The ball had ballooned off the edge, and Murali’s hands had reached out and grabbed it as it came down near his midriff. The master spinner had ended flat on his back, his face split in a smile of elation. The score had read 126 for four, England’s South African deliverer had walked back for 58.  That had been the 31st over.

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The first ball of the 34th had been a slower, delivered to perfection by Dilhara Fernando. Pietersen’s partner-in-crime, the other England batsman who biffed opponents into submission, had launched into an expansive lofted drive over mid-on. But Andrew Flintoff’s stroke had carried only as far as the edge of the circle where Malinga had latched on to it in delight.

Two balls later, at the very same score, Fernando’s ball had streaked through at a surprisingly brisk rate. A watchful Paul Collingwood had stood rooted to his crease, his prodding willow had failed to make contact, and the thud of the ball on the pads had been followed by a fatal upraised finger. It had been 133 for six, and the target of 236 had seemed far, far away.

Earlier, the Sri Lankans had not been very happy with their total. The normally fluent Upul Tharanga had been sluggish in his innings of 62 from 103 balls, finding the fence only twice in the process. And Jayawardene’s brisk 56 had been followed by an insipid lower order collapse.  But, now, with England losing their way so dramatically, the Lankans looked very much on top.

And then there was the fightback

It was not really spectacular, no supreme heroics, no swashbuckling willow in the face of crisis, no fighting fire with fire, no panicky attempt at all or nothing, death or glory. Ravi Bopara and stumper Paul Nixon followed the time-tested but often neglected formula of picking up singles at every possible opportunity. They added 87, as many as 43 of them in singles, only 22 came in boundaries. The runs were scored in a rather unremarkable, sedate manner, but they accumulated into an imposing composite. In many ways, it was a splendid partnership, every risk eschewed for percentage strokes essayed with measured methods of calculating, conservative but effective business sense.

The asking rate was mounting but manageable. All they needed was one big over when Muralitharan started his last. 32 were required off 18 balls. And Nixon, having shown exemplary application punctuated by semi-successful reverse sweeps, now turned to adventurous ways.

The fourth ball of the over floated in on the off-stump. Nixon went down on his knees, swinging his bat in a manner contrary to convention. The reverse sweep, perfected after numerous attempts, sailed over the head of point and beyond the ropes.

And after blocking the next one, the England wicketkeeper repeated the stroke off the final Murali delivery, this time sending it screaming across the turf, and beat the fielder in pursuit. The over cost 13 — the one big over that was required.  Now 19 remained to be scored from 12.

But it was the Lord of Death Overs who sprinted in now, mane flopping with the golden streaks, ball a darting missile in his hand. Malinga’s reputation had risen exponentially after his four wickets from four balls against South Africa at Providence.  The deliveries that followed were speared in with that round arm slinging action. They darted through that corridor outside the off-stump. The first four balls brought three singles. The run per ball equation rose in leaps, creating misgivings, confusing the mind. Off the fifth, Nixon tried to loft it over cover. The line provided little room or opportunity. It soared in a comfortable arc into the palms of the skipper on the off side. The commendable effort had ended on 42 runs. Sajid Mahmood walked in. 16 were required off seven.

And Malinga ran in again. In front of him stood Bopara, having crossed while Nixon’s fatal stroke had hovered in air. The ball was another characteristic one, delivered like a javelin, cramping the batsman for room. Yet, Bopara managed to manoeuvre his arms, the bat came down in a superb arc and connected in a square drive of class. It scorched away, the point was beaten and the man on the boundary had too much ground to cover. Four runs of immense value. Malinga could only smile in response. 12 were now required off the final over.

The Fernando Finish — and the Fernando faux-pas

Fernando, the man who had bowled his heart out thus far, was chucked the ball for the last over. Sajid faced him. Bopara was on his toes at the non-striker’s end, eager for the strike. A cosmopolitan cocktail trying to win it for modern England. Sorry, could not resist that.

The bat connected with the ball somehow and they sprinted across, winning the scamper by photo-finish. 11 to win off five. Bopara had the strike.

Fernando ran in. The ball pitched on the off. And the ice-cool Bopara went down on his knee and paddled it over short fine-leg. It ran away into the vacant unguarded zone, over the ropes. Stupendous stroke in the circumstances.

Seven required off four. Fernando bowled the next one. Bopara creamed it through covers, timing it superbly. But the sweeper got around, and the batsmen shuttled back for the second.

Five off three. Fernando bowled a shade quicker, Bopara repeated his stroke. This time it went straight to the sweeper. The batsmen sprinted, touched down, turned, thought about a second. The throw whistled in and they decided against the attempt at the impossible. Four required off two. And Bopara was off strike.

The batsmen conferred. The bowler waited. The meagre crowd of 7000 odd, a late announcement proclaiming free entry not really boosting the numbers, sat on the edge of their seats.

Fernando ran in again and Sajid drove hard. But the connection was far from required. The ball ricocheted off the thin inside edge, struck the pad and dropped dead in front of the batsman. Another breathtaking sprint followed, and Bopara prevailed in another photo-finish. It had all come down to the final delivery. Three runs remained to be scored.

Fernando walked back to his mark. Bopara looked around the field. The crowd waited. The keyboards stopped clicking in the press box. The rapt eyes focused on the two combatants.

And now the batsman settled, the bowler was ready. Fernando started his run. The fielders moved in. Bopara raised his bat and cocked his knee.

And then nothing happened. The ball remained in Fernando’s hand as he pulled out of his run up. The nerves, twisted and twined like springs, relaxed for a fraction of a second before coiling back again.  It would have to be re-bowled. Bopara settled in his stance again.

Fernando turned and ran in, and this time the ball was released. It pitched perfectly on length. The bat went through its arc and swished through, missing the line. The top of the off-stump was clipped.

The ball ran away off the woodwork to the fine third man fence. In the commentary box another Fernando — the Sri Lankan broadcaster Ranjit Fernando — thought that England had won by virtue of an edged boundary.

But that was a false alarm after all. On hearing the fatal noise, Bopara looked back in agony. Fernando exulted. In the pavilion Pietersen looked as if the world had crashed through the floor. North Sound had been engulfed in a name-defying silence of uncertainty, and now it erupted.

Sri Lanka had won by the wafer thin margin of two runs.

Brief Scores

Sri Lanka 235 in 50 overs (Upul Tharanga 62, Mahela Jayawardene 56; Sajid Mahmood 4 for 50, Andrew Flintoff 3 for 35) beat England 233 for 8in 50 overs (Ian Bell 47, Kevin Pietersen 48, Ravi Bopara 52, Paul Nixon 42; Dilhara Fernando 3 for 41) by 2 runs

(Arunabha Sengupta is a cricket historian and Chief Cricket Writer at CricketCountry. He writes about the history and the romance of the game, punctuated often by opinions about modern day cricket, while his post-graduate degree in statistics peeps through in occasional analytical pieces. The author of three novels, he can be followed on Twitter at http://twitter.com/senantix)