CHAPTER 34: THE SEMI-FINAL DAY MATCH [7]

Chapter 34: The Semi-final Day Match [7]

The roar from the Shanti Vidya Mandir School team was a primal, collective scream.

It was the sound of disbelief turning into fact. Vikram was at the bottom of a pile of bodies, his hand—the hand that had snagged the rebound—clutched tight, the ball held aloft like a trophy.

Parag was on his knees, his face buried in the grass.

[Score: 4/1. Target: 87. Overs: 2.4]

Rohan Sharma, the "batsman," did not move. He stood at the crease in a bubble of profound, ringing silence.

The world had narrowed to the 22-yard strip. He looked at the celebrating mob. He looked at his bat, as if it had personally betrayed him.

He looked at the umpire, whose finger was still pointing to the sky, an unmoving monument to his failure.

He had been exposed.

He had been hunted.

And he had been taken down.

Slowly, deliberately, he tucked his bat under his arm. He began his walk.

It was the longest walk of his young life.

He didn’t run. He didn’t look at his dugout. He kept his eyes on the grass.

The cheers of the Shanti Vidya Mandir School fielders were a physical weight, pressing him down.

Raghav, standing on the boundary line, watched him. He could show Rohan’s fury. It was in the whiteness of his knuckles as he gripped his bat.

It was in the rigid set of his shoulders. It was in the way he stepped over the boundary rope, not on it, as if it were a contamination.

He reached the bench. His teammates, who had been laughing just ten minutes prior, were now silent, their faces pale.

They looked at him, their fallen god, with a new, unsettling emotion: fear.

Rohan didn’t look at them. He sat down, a good five feet away from everyone else.

He ripped his helmet off, his hair matted with sweat.

And then, in a single, vicious movement, he tore his batting pads off.

RRRIIIP. RRRIIIP.

The sound of the velcro tearing in the quiet dugout was like a scream. He threw the pads to the ground. He had been beaten by a plan. Beaten by a bunch of state-school nobodies. Beaten by a boy with one arm.

He sat there, his face like stone, and just... stared... at the field, a cold, patient fury radiating from him. The formality was over. This was a war.

"COME ON, BOYS! ONE BRINGS TWO!" Vikram roared, his voice raw as he got back into his First Slip position.

"HE’S SCARED! THEY’RE ALL SCARED!"

The new batsman, Karan, was walking out. The walk from the pavilion to the crease felt like a mile. He was the number three, the "anchor" of the team.

He was supposed to be the calm one.

But he was showing his terror. His bat trembled in his grip.

His walk was a stiff, robotic march. He arrived at the crease, his eyes wide, and avoided making eye contact with the keeper, who was hissing like a snake.

"Good ball, Parag... good ball... he’s shaking..."

Sameer, the non-striker, walked down the pitch. He looked rattled himself. "Karan," he whispered, "Just... just survive the over. Watch the ball. Forget them."

Karan just gave a jerky, noncommittal nod. He took his guard.

Tap. Tap. Tap. A nervous, frantic rhythm.

Parag was at the top of his mark. He was a god. The ball felt like a perfectly balanced weapon in his hand. He had tasted blood, and he wanted more. He had two balls left in his over.

Coach Sarma, on the sideline, cupped his hands.

"TIGHT, PARAG! TIGHT LINE! ON HIS TOES!"

[Ball 2.5] Parag thundered in. He was aiming for the kill shot. The same Good Length ball, the same line, the same Outswinger. He wanted to end this.

But he was too pumped. His adrenaline was surging, making him rush.

He over-pitched.

It was a Half-Volley on the Off-Stump. A gift.

Karan, the new batsman, was a bundle of raw, terrified reflex. He saw the full ball and did what he was trained to do: he Drove.

It was a stiff, panicked, jerky Drive. His feet didn’t move. It was all arms.

He didn’t hit it cleanly.

He hit it in the air.

The ball looped, almost in slow motion, in a gentle arc towards the Cover fielder.

It was Ajit. The "Wall."

Raghav’s heart stopped. ’This is it! Two wickets! The game!’

Ajit’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates. He saw the ball coming. This was his moment.

He was a "Wall," not a "Cat."

He lunged. A desperate, clumsy, two-handed dive.

The ball hit his outstretched fingertips.

And dropped.

It bounced, mockingly, on the perfect green grass.

A collective, agonizing groan erupted from the Shanti Vidya Mandir School team. Parag put his head in his hands.

Vikram slammed his fist into his own thigh.

Karan and Sameer, their hearts stopping, saw the drop. They scrambled, a panicked, desperate single.

Rohan Sharma, on the sideline, slammed his open palm onto the bench. A chance. They had been given a chance.

[Score: 5/1. Target: 82. Overs: 2.5]

Karan was off the mark. He had survived. He was breathing in huge, shuddering gasps.

Sameer was back on strike.

[Ball 2.6] Parag, furious at himself, furious at Ajit, lost his composure. He dug the last ball in Short and fast, a spiteful, angry Bouncer that sailed harmlessly over Sameer’s head.

The over was done.

A monumental over. One run. One wicket. One dropped catch.

The Shanti Vidya Mandir School team’s elation was now tainted with the bitter taste of a missed opportunity.

"IT’S ALRIGHT! IT’S ALRIGHT!" Vikram yelled, his voice sounding a little less confident.

"KEEP THE PRESSURE! HE’S STILL NERVOUS!"

Coach Sarma brought his left-arm spinner, Sunil, back on.

-------------------

The SDI batsmen, Sameer and Karan, had just been given a reprieve. The shock of Rohan’s wicket was still there, but the immediate threat of a total collapse had passed.

Now, the "Batsman " did what made them champions.

They didn’t panic. They didn’t counter-attack.

They were absorbed.

[Ball 3.1] Sunil tossed a looping ball to Sameer. The "old" Sameer, the slogger, would have tried to hit it to the parking lot.

The "new" Sameer, the one who had seen his captain fall, played a perfect, "textbook" Forward Defensive Block.

[Ball 3.2] Sunil again. Sameer blocked.

[Ball 3.3] Sunil, trying to tempt him, tossed it wider. Sameer just padded it away.

The entire over was a display of pure, negative, defensive discipline. They were not trying to score. They were trying to heal.

[Ball 3.6] Sunil’s last ball. Sameer just nudged it to Square Leg. No run. A maiden over.

[Score: 5/1. Target: 82. Overs: 4.0]

Parag came on for his third over.

[Ball 4.1] He bowled his Outswinger again. Karan, his nerves settling, just watched it go by.

[Ball 4.2] Good Length, on the stumps. Karan blocked.

[Ball 4.3] Full-Length. Karan blocked.

The game, which had been a chaotic, adrenaline-fueled knife fight, had suddenly become a slow, agonizing chess match.

This was the "grind," but it was a defensive grind.

The score did not move.

5/1.

5/1.

Raghav, on the sideline, felt a cold knot in his stomach. The Intelligence Boost was long gone, but he could see the new strategy.

"They’re not trying to win, Coach," he said, his voice low.

Sarma, who was pacing, stopped. "What?"

"They’re not trying to score.

They’re trying to survive. They’re waiting for Parag to finish his spell. They’re waiting for us to get tired. They’re trying to bore us to death."

The Shanti Vidya Mandir School fielders were still energetic, but their chirping was becoming forced. "Come on, boys... something’s gonna happen..."

Nothing was happening.

[Over 5.0. Score: 6/1. Target: 81] (A single was nudged).

[Over 6.0. Score: 7/1. Target: 80] (Another single).

The champions were absorbing the punch. They were weathering the storm. They had given Shanti Vidya Mandir School their adrenaline dump, and now they were just... waiting.

They were taking the 87-run chase and turning it into a 5-hour Test match.

Parag finished his fourth over. He was breathing hard. The fire was gone, replaced by the frustration of bowling to a brick wall.

Sarma had to rest him.

He signaled for a new bowler. A medium-pacer.

The moment Parag was taken off, Sameer, at the non-striker’s end, looked at Karan. He gave a single, hard nod.

The storm was over.

The new bowler, his arm not as fast, his line not as threatening, ran in.

[Ball 6.1] He delivered a Good Length ball.

Karan, who had been a wall, suddenly came to life. His front foot moved, and he drove the ball firmly, past the Mid-On fielder. They ran, not in panic, but a smooth, easy single.

[Score: 8/1. Target: 79]

[Ball 6.2] The bowler, nervous, delivered to Sameer.

Sameer, who had been blocking, now stepped out and punched the ball through Cover.

CRACK.

It wasn’t a "tap." It was a shot.

Ajit dove, but this time it was too far. The ball raced to the boundary.

Four runs.

[Score: 12/1. Target: 75]

On the sideline, Rohan Sharma finally allowed himself to nod. The panic was over. The counter-attack had begun.

The Shanti Vidya Mandir School team, their shoulders suddenly slumped, looked at each other.

The fortress, which had seemed so strong just moments ago, was already starting to crumble.

(To be Continued)