Estimated reading time: 6 minutes
5-day test cricket
Mohammed Siraj, the Indian fast bowler, landed on the ground after his Cristiano Ronaldo-style celebratory jump, arms outstretched, legs askew, his body quickly engulfed by overjoyed teammates. Behind him, the stumps were awry, and English batsman Gus Atkinson, devastated.
Siraj had bowled an impossibly good yorker under mind-numbing pressure to precipitate an England loss by just 6 runs. This was India’s narrowest margin of victory in their long-form cricketing history, after 25 grueling days of Test cricket, where two heavyweight teams slugged it out, ball after ball, session after session, match after match. A 2-2 series scoreline in the five-match Anderson-Tendulkar Trophy between India and England was never more on point, unless one is a diehard India fan who thinks it should have been 3-1 in India’s favor; it could have, had the small, important moments been won.
With three modern-day India greats (Ashwin, Rohit, and Kohli) having retired, a home series lost comprehensively to New Zealand, and a middling tour of Australia, this was a team of young players, a team in transition. India’s greatest fast bowler of all time had to be managed to prevent serious injury, but that didn’t stop the pundits from proclaiming that the three tests that Bumrah would choose to play were India’s best chances of victory. Ironically, India won none of the tests that the talisman bowler played. Instead, it was the less-heralded Siraj, who took 16 wickets (at an average of 19) in the two tests without Bumrah, winning India both those matches; his tireless, valiant effort – had opposing players, coaches, and even the Sri Lankan umpire singing his praises.
Runs & wickets galore
In this effort, he wasn’t alone. Runs and hundreds piled up like never before in cricket lore. Majestic dominance, rearguard efforts, unlikely heroes, consistent performers, serious injuries, silly errors, plots, subplots, and inclement weather all played their part to make this one of the most memorable series of all time. Siraj was joined by Gill the accumulator, Rahul the Wall 2.0, Jadeja the scrapper, Rishabh the wunderkind, Washington the adaptable, and Jaiswal the ruthless, ably supported by a rotating cast that included Karun Nair, playing his first test in 8 years. England stalwarts Root and Stokes scrapped and shone admirably but found only intermittent assistance from their teammates.
For five tests that gave so much, the 56 minutes, on the morning of the last day of the last match, was not just the cherry on top but a whole cake gleefully eaten by cricket lovers. The ebbs and flows, over nine overs, as England and India traded their last volleys, were draining and energizing, stressful and exuberant. Had India lost, it would have been devastating for their fans. Their victory felt like each person watching had contributed in some way, however delusional that seems.
Test cricket’s beauty & mystery
Test cricket is a mystery – unknown to most of the sports world, and a cause for amusement among Americans – a sport played over five days in an era where the attention economy demands gratification in 1-minute increments. It’s a sport that is intimately dependent on conditions, both overhead and on the ground, where the pitch of play changes dramatically from venue to venue.
Test cricket is unnaturally and unequally skewed towards the big 3 (England, Australia, and India) and dominated economically by the population might (and therefore viewership and ad revenues) that India offers. It is rife with political interference and, on a less Machiavellian scale, is unfairly partial to bat over ball. And it is supposedly dying out in the face of shorter, more exciting formats.
Some of those things are true, but concurrently so are the marvels of the sport. Cricket elicits a range of subtle skills and strengths from the practitioners of mental stamina who face batters testing their elite concentration for 6 to 7 hours at a time; the wonders of physical prowess allows a bowler who has delivered hundreds of high-intensity overs for 45 days to still bowl at 90 miles an hour in his final spell with unerring accuracy; its wizardry allows players to come out to bat on broken feet and dislocated shoulders, purely to help their teams win or save matches; the mystery that has emotionally unavailable men weeping with joy or anguish while watching the live drama unfold.
A viewer connects with cricket
This isn’t just a passive viewing experience but a catalyst to dive deeper into our inner worlds – our struggles, our triumphs, our mistakes, our perseverance. It is the extended time frame of test cricket that allows a richer tapestry to bubble up from our subconscious minds. Watching this inner and outer experience unfold live in the stadium over five days takes us into a state of mindful awareness, curiosity, and creative thinking. The sheer viscerality of seeing cricket and cricketers in flesh and blood cannot be matched. Great innings or spells are memorable, but the feeling of participating, with raucous cheers and asides, is what builds the bond.
This bond translates into the more physically distant engagement of screen viewing. It’s tough to say how this works, but our collective psyche takes us there, shutting out everything else but the content on the screen. A total immersion into this pastime we love. As emotions rise and fall with each pulse of the match, the more mature among us can stay balanced even in contentious situations. Not I.
I wanted to scream at Ben Stokes when he was bowling straight at Pant’s broken toe. I scolded the whole England team for the schoolboy petulance they showed as Jadeja and Washington Sundar opted to stay on and complete their hundreds, though there was no chance of a victory for either team. Careful, lads, your colonial mindset is showing!
I was most annoyed when Indian coach Gautam Gambhir (accurately nicknamed GuGu in my cricket-mad Signal chat group) spouted some classist and entitled rhetoric to the pitch curator, a working man (the classic Delhi boy “know your place” outburst). But most of all, I felt grateful for all the time I have been afforded to watch so many 5-day games over the last 35 years, including this latest series. The luxury of time is the greatest gift of all.
As the echoes of words and images of the last few months grow fainter, a mix of feelings remains – one of satisfaction and another of anticipation, nods to the past and future. But it is in the present moment that cricket is experienced. Eyes glued to the screen or pitch, watching a rock-hard red projectile hurtling towards a padded, helmetted human wielding a wooden plank, while 11 players and two umpires eagerly await the outcome of this mini clash. A collective and ebullient psychosis. The beauty of test match cricket.