Retirement Plans...

“I think I’m gonna retire!”
“Why?”
“Like Ganguly, my form seems to have disappeared with age. I can’t win matches anymore.”
“Age? What age? Don’t talk rubbish. Form is temporary, class- permanent!”
This was just one of those cricketing clichés that my best pal, Vijesh used after a game, as we were brooding over ‘what could have been’. Both of us ended up being in the same team, for once, in a four-over friendly. The previous Sunday was the only other time I’d faced a delivery, after the September of 2004, when the Xavier’s ‘selector’ thought that “undedicated players” shouldn’t be a part of the team (mentioned in my first ever post). Coming back to the game, I thought my bowling in that game was lackluster, but I knew I had to make up for it with my batting. We were chasing a rather modest 26 in four. After the fall of the first wicket, Vijesh and I put up a partnership as we inched closer towards an easy victory. But, just as we needed five of the last over, Vijesh was run out and I was left with having to score just five of the last five. ‘Easy’, one would think, considering I have accomplished more difficult asks earlier. But Appu is one of those bowlers I hate to face. He has been my nemesis time and over again. And as this left handed batsman played and missed the second ball from the left-handed bowler, I knew this wasn’t going to be as easy as the equation suggested.
Five of four. But Appu’s impeccable line did me in again as I charged down and missed again.
Five of three. I just couldn’t trust the batsman at the other end for, to borrow Geoffrey Boycott’s words, ‘my mum could play better than him’. I made up my mind to stay in the crease and play the ball according to its merit. The ball was on my legs and I flicked it down to the fine-leg area, but alas, only if runs were allowed behind the wickets. We were not playing eleven-a-side and therefore, couldn’t afford to keep men behind the wickets.
Five of two. A thousand thoughts ran through my mind as I was clueless about what my PoA will be in the next delivery. Another excellent delivery and I played and missed. Again!
Five of one! I had no choice but to go down the track in this ball. Appu marked his run-up and ran in with the green coloured tennis ball gripped firmly on this left hand. And as soon as the ball released itself from the think yet long fingers, I charged down the pitch. The ball turned out to be a full-toss close to my legs. I heaved it to the leg side, this time making sure it stayed in front of the wicket. Vijesh let out a huge cry, seeing the ball high and seemingly about the clear the field. But to his dismay and to my own, the ball bounced about five metres within the boundary. As I was jogging the 22-yards watching the ball sail high and bouncing twice, I was pleased to even secure a tie. But wait! It wasn’t over. I thought the ball might hit the iron fence. It would have, but for that narrow ditch dug up just before the fence. The ball died inches before the fence inside the ditch only to be picked up by a joyous fielder. We lost! I banged my bat to the green grass and looked up to the heavens.
I couldn’t help wondering to myself—‘Blessen, the match-winner is dead! Blessen, the cricketer is dead!’ But again, inevitably, an ‘inner voice’ (or was it Vijesh?) told me, “He never will.”