A note to the "tailenders" in life -
It was a cold day of January 1996. I was 17 and was playing my first cricket match that had more people in the audience than players. I was representing my school cricket team against an under-19 team from South Africa.
It was a cold day of January 1996. I was 17 and was playing my first cricket match that had more people in the audience than players. I was representing my school cricket team against an under-19 team from South Africa.
It was not the official under-19 South African team, but they were young professional cricketers while we were the minnows. I bowled as a leg spinner and batted as a tailender. We had lost all wickets but one for under a score of 200.
I came to the crease in the second last over of the 50-overs match. It wasn’t a do or die situation for our team because we started the game with a 100% probability of losing it with a big margin. But while at the crease, it was a like a do or die situation for me.
Having been an introvert and an extremely shy person all my life, this was my time to be at the centre of it all, and show to the world (my world) that I could amount to something, even as a tailender.
One of their fast bowlers, about 6-feet tall, was at the bowling end. As he hurtled towards me, I could clearly see his face muscles moving and tensing, enough to scare me away. The first ball I faced ended up on my pads.
The ball came in so fast that I did not even feel the time gap between the bowler throwing it and it reaching my pads. There was a huge appeal for leg before wicket. I almost started walking towards the pavilion with my head hanging.
This was my only chance to show the world that I mattered, but my world had come crashing down. However, as luck would have it, the appeal was turned down and I breathed a big sigh of relief. I had gotten another chance.
As I have played back that moment so many times over the years, I remember that was not willing to let go of that second chance. This time when I saw the bowler running towards me, I had already made up my mind to go on the front foot for a big shot.
I was not willing to buckle under the pressure of facing a 6-feet tall super-fast bowler. It was after all my do or die moment. He threw the ball with all his might, and I moved a few steps forward and hit the ball with all my might.
The ball hit the middle of the bat, and flew high towards the long on boundary, this time a fielder running to catch it. I was certainly headed towards the pavilion this time. The catch was dropped and I survived yet again.
It was a near sixer, but what mattered more to me was that I was getting a third chance. I was now facing the third ball of my inning, though it seemed that I was at the crease for a few hours already.
The ball came hurtling in, and I again moved to the front foot and hit it again with all my might. This time, I got a four! The bowler stared at me, but I was busy basking in the glory of my friends and other audience members cheering for me. That was my moment under the sun.
I took a single of the next ball and waited for my batting at the turn of the over. That was not meant to be as my partner, the last wicket to fall, got bowled out. I was disappointed.
As I walked towards the pavilion with my head down, I received a pat on my shoulder. When I looked back, it was the bowler whom I had faced. He told me something that I have not forgotten till date. He said, “You fought bravely, and that was great to watch.”
I thought, “I lasted just four balls, and he is telling me that I fought bravely? Surprising!”
Anyways, as expected, we lost the match by 9-wickets.
Anyways, as expected, we lost the match by 9-wickets.
At the teams’ dinner that night, I was called in by the South African coach who congratulated me for “being brave,” which again came as a surprise. He even recommended my team’s coach to consider me...
...to be included in an upcoming tour of India’s junior team to South Africa. That was not meant to be, however. I was in Class 12th, and my parents thought cricket would affect my studies. And so, that match against the South African team was my last full cricket match.
Now, the reason I am sharing this story with you today is not to tell you how I could not make cricket my career. It's about those words I had heard from people much experienced and capable than me in their field, who told me – "you fought bravely."
It was just a cricket match and we had lost it hands down. But whenever I see the “tailenders” in life facing off their challenges on the front foot, even if they lose their games, I am delighted simply by their acts of courage.
So, if you find yourself a tailender at any point in life, my advice to you is to have courage and play your game on the front foot. Have your guards on, but play on the front foot.
As a tailender, you would have nothing to lose. You may worry about the world watching you, but believe me, not many people care, especially when you are a tailender. And like I have learned in hindsight, that's to your advantage that not many people care.
I batted for just four balls in that one match I remember the most. But when I look back, even that short inning has left a lasting impression on my life on how I should play every match in my life.
With my guards on, and on the front foot.
With my guards on, and on the front foot.
Anyways, this is the ground I played as a tailender in 1996. I visited it recently, and all I could remember was not that we had lost a match, but that I had learned that what matters in life is not whether you win or lose, but how you play.
Thank you for reading.
Thank you for reading.
Loading suggestions...