Date: July 8, 2008 (Tuesday) Time: 4:30 PM Location: Gymkhana Grounds, The "Open" Nets.
July in Hyderabad meant one thing: Monsoon. The sky was a permanent slate-grey. The roads were clogged with muddy water. The cricket grounds were lush green but soggy.
Matches were getting cancelled every Sunday. Deccan Blues vs. Postal Department? Abandoned. Deccan Blues vs. SBI Colony? Abandoned.
Sai was getting restless. He had paid Rs. 1500 (his dad's money), and all he had done so far was sit in the pavilion tent eating soggy samosas and marking the scorebook.
"Practice is On!" Reddy Sir had SMSed. "Come to Gymkhana concrete nets."
Concrete doesn't get wet. Concrete doesn't care about rain.
The Hierarchy of Men
Sai stood near the kit bags, holding his helmet. He looked at his teammates. These weren't school kids. These were Men.
Captain: Suresh (28 years old). Works in a bank. Technically sound.
Star Bowler: Naseer Bhai (32 years old). Drives a Share-Auto in Old City. He was built like a tank, with forearms thick as tree trunks. He bowled "Off-Spin," but at 110kph. It was basically a fast cutter.
Wicketkeeper: Pandu (24 years old). College dropout. Loud mouth.
They were smoking cigarettes and drinking Irani chai before practice.
"Reddy Sir, why is the school kid here?" Naseer exhaled smoke, looking at Sai. "If the ball hits him, police case will happen."
Reddy Sir was checking the balls. "He paid fees, Naseer. Let him bat for 10 minutes at the end."
Naseer grunted. "Okay. But I won't slow down. If he dies, he dies."
Time: 5:45 PM The Slaughter House
The sun was setting early due to the clouds. The light was fading. The concrete net was slippery.
Sai watched the men bat. The sound was different here. CRACK. When Naseer hit the ball, it sounded like a gunshot. The power was raw, adult strength.
"Oye, Chotu! Pad up!" Reddy Sir yelled.
Sai put on his pads. His heart was thumping. He walked into the net.
The distance was 22 yards. But on concrete, the ball skids faster. And Naseer was standing at the top of his mark, rolling up his sleeves.
"Guard?" Naseer barked.
"Leg stump, Bhai," Sai said, his voice steady.
Naseer didn't smile. He ran in. He was wearing chappals (sandals) with a back-strap, not shoes. But his run-up was rhythmic and heavy. Thud-thud-thud.
Ball 1: Naseer bowled his "heavy ball." A short-of-length off-cutter. It hit the concrete and exploded upwards.
Sai's 10-year-old brain processed the trajectory. Too high to play. He left it. The ball smashed into the iron pole behind the stumps with a deafening CLANG!
Pandu (the keeper) laughed. "Oye Naseer! Don't break the pole! Break the kid!"
Ball 2: Naseer bowled full. Sai saw it. He leaned forward to drive. He made contact.
[DISSONANCE - CRITICAL]
ZZZTT!
The impact was shocking. The ball was "heavy." It wasn't just fast; it had mass behind it. The bat handle twisted in Sai's weak grip. The ball spooned up in the air towards mid-off.
"Catch!" Naseer shouted mockingly. "Out!"
Sai shook his hands. His thumbs were stinging. Analysis: I cannot drive these guys. Their bowling has too much kinetic energy. If I drive, the bat twists.
Solution: Don't oppose the force. Deflect it.
Ball 3: Naseer ran in again. Faster this time. He bowled a yorker on off-stump.
Sai didn't try to block it with a dead bat. He loosened his bottom hand completely—holding the bat only with his thumb and index finger of the right hand. He angled the bat face down.
[CLICK]
He didn't hit the ball. He let the ball hit the angled bat. The ball hit the wood, lost all its energy instantly, and died at his feet.
"Oho," Reddy Sir muttered from the side. "Soft hands."
The Battle
Naseer got annoyed. A kid blocking him? He started bowling bouncers. On concrete, bouncers are dangerous. They don't bounce predictable; they skid.
Sai spent the next 10 minutes doing squats. Duck. Sway. Duck. He didn't touch the ball. He just survived.
"Time up!" Reddy Sir yelled.
Naseer walked up to Sai. He looked sweaty and scary. He grabbed the ball from the ground near Sai's feet.
"You have good eyes, Bachcha (Kid)," Naseer grunted in Hyderabadi Hindi. "But you have no power. Go eat Keema Roti."
Sai nodded. "Yes, Bhai."
Time: 6:30 PM Location: Outside Gymkhana.
Sai was waiting for his dad. Naseer came out, starting his Auto-Rickshaw. Khar-khar-khar-phut-phut.
He saw Sai standing alone with his big blue bag. "Oye. Where do you live?" Naseer asked.
"Kukatpally, Bhai."
"Come. I'm going that way. I'll drop you. Don't waste money on bus."
Sai hesitated. Stranger danger? But this was his teammate. And in Hyderabad, Auto drivers were the kings of the road.
He climbed into the passenger seat next to Naseer.
As the auto wove through the insane traffic at Paradise Circle, Naseer shouted over the engine noise.
"Why you playing C-Division? You are small."
"I want to play Ranji, Bhai," Sai shouted back.
Naseer laughed. "Ranji? Everyone wants to play Ranji. I wanted to play Ranji. Now I drive Auto."
He swerved to avoid a buffalo.
"Listen," Naseer said, his tone serious. "Concrete cricket is fake. Next week, if rain stops, we play on Matting Wicket at BHEL Grounds. Matting is dangerous. The ball turns like a snake. If you play on Matting, wear a thigh pad. Or your leg will turn black and blue."
"I don't have a thigh pad, Bhai."
Naseer sighed. He reached under his seat. He pulled out a dirty, sweat-stained white thigh guard. The strap was held together by a safety pin.
"Take this. It's old. Wash it with Dettol before wearing."
Sai took the guard. It smelled of hard work and petrol.
"Thanks, Naseer Bhai."
"Don't thank me. Just don't get out for a duck. If you get duck, I will make you pay the auto fare."
Date: July 13, 2008 (Sunday) Location: BHEL Grounds, Ramachandrapuram.
The match was ON. Deccan Blues vs. Singareni Collieries.
The opposition team was made of coal miners and strong departmental workers. They looked tough.
Sai was listed as 12th Man. Again.
But cricket is a funny game. In the 15th over of the first innings, the Deccan Blues opener, Suresh (Captain), tried to steal a quick single. He turned, twisted his ankle in a wet mud patch, and went down screaming.
"Arey! Ankle gone!"
Reddy Sir ran onto the field with the magic spray. Suresh was limping. He couldn't run.
Reddy Sir looked at the bench. He looked at the two other reserves—lazy guys who were eating chips. Then he looked at Sai, who was already doing stretches and checking the scorebook.
"Sai!" Reddy Sir yelled. "Helmet pahen le! (Wear helmet!)"
"Batting?" Sai asked, hopeful.
"No! Runner! Suresh will bat, you will run for him!"
Sai froze. Being a Runner is the hardest job in cricket. You have to run for the batsman, but you don't get to hit the ball. You have to be in sync with a guy who is standing 22 yards away in pain. And if you get run out, the batsman is out.
"Jaldi ja! (Go fast!)"
Sai strapped on his pads (and Naseer's old thigh guard). He ran onto the field.
The Singareni bowler, a guy with a red bandana, laughed. "They sent a schoolboy to run? Easy wicket."
Suresh was leaning on his bat at the striker's end, grimacing. "Oye, Chotu," Suresh groaned. "I will just block. Don't run unless I shout YES. Understand?"
"Yes, Captain."
Sai stood at square leg (the runner's position). He adjusted his helmet.
[SYSTEM MODE: SPRINT]
Status: Agility High. Top Speed Low. Acceleration High.
The bowler ran in. Suresh blocked it. "NO!"
Next ball. Suresh drove it to mid-on. The fielder fumbled. "YES! RUN!" Suresh screamed.
Sai took off. He didn't run like a human. He ran like a programmed machine. Head down. Bat extended. He crossed the crease. "ONE MORE!" Suresh yelled (greedy).
The fielder had the ball. He threw it at the striker's end. Sai had to turn and sprint back. His Segar studs slipped slightly in the mud.
[DISSONANCE] Traction Loss.
He corrected his balance instantly. He dove. Full length dive. His small body skid on the wet grass. His bat crossed the line just as the bails whipped off.
"Not Out!" said the Umpire.
Suresh gave a thumbs up. "Good running, ra."
Sai stood up, his white uniform now covered in green and brown mud. He looked at the opposition bowler.
I might not be batting, Sai thought. But I am in the game.
Deccan Blues Score: 110/3. Overs: 18. Situation: Death Overs.
"Suresh Anna," Sai whispered during the break between overs. "The bowler is bowling wide Yorkers. Stand outside off stump. Make him bowl at your legs."
Suresh looked at the kid. He moved his stance. The bowler bowled the wide yorker line. But because Suresh moved, it became a full toss on the legs. Suresh flicked it for Four.
Suresh looked at Sai, surprised. Sai just winked under his helmet.
The 20-year-old brain is finally playing.