“Slow down, you move too fast
You got to make the morning last.”
— Simon and Garfunkel, Feelin’ Groovy
The most crucial factor in a Test match is time. Ironical, given that we live in an era where the ebb and the flow of the most popular formats of the game are dictated not by the free flowing nature of time but by the constraints we force on it.
We want things to be played at a faster clip, we want to pack in as many moments as we can into a set time period, we want the big hits, we want something to happen at all times, we want it to be paisa vasool in a very short-sighted selfish sort-of way. It feels better because it’s convenient… convenient however not necessarily mean better. It’s over in a day or in a few hours. Once done, we move on. Job done. Maybe it’s closure.
But is sport something that you look to get out of the way?
Well, who’s got the time?
One of the arguments against Test cricket has been that no one has the time to watch cricket over five days. Five days away from work, five days away from life? Perhaps there is some truth there. But give us the right kind of pitch, two well-matched opponents, passionate players, poor umpires, the Decision Review System and a series with some context – and you’ll find that people will make the time, just as they did in Bengaluru.
Sometimes it just pays to take things slow, to enjoy the build-up, the anticipation, the set-up and then finally watch a match where each ball feels like a mini-game with its own set of permutations and combinations.
As the second Test came to an epic end, it proved once again why Test cricket at its finest is an experience that can never be matched by the incompleteness of One-Day International and Twenty20 cricket, where conditions are often so loaded in the favour of the batsmen that each match feels like a production-line copy. Perhaps, for lack of a better analogy, ODIs and T20s are like breaking news – lots of noise and little substance. But if you want the real story, wait for the Tests.
A tactical Test
Tactically too, Tests are much richer. It begins with the toss, perhaps before it. You put on your Nostradamus cap and try to figure out how the pitch will play. Depending on the answer you arrive at, you decide to bat or bowl first. Then you hope you were right.
India won the toss but was bowled out for 189 in the first innings. All the “bat once, bat big” talk quickly went out of the window. It was quickly time to reassess targets. Then, it was time to hatch another plan.
Come Day 2, the Indian bowlers put their hands up – from 40-0 to 87-2 – 29 overs, 47 runs, 2 wickets in a session. It doesn’t say much but the scorecard will never truly show how this was the session where things started to turn around for India. You had to watch this – the intensity was mind-numbing. The pitch didn’t make things easy for the batsmen but as Ishant Sharma later said, “We decided that in 20 overs, we wanted to give just 30 runs.”
Usually it takes more than just a plan to make things go right and the extra oomph was provided by the manner in which the bowlers gave it their all. Note: Only five boundaries were scored in the session but it was riveting to watch.
The waiting game
You play for time – don’t rush it, rather make your peace with it. You are in no rush – your innings doesn’t end in 50 or 20 overs and it applies to batsmen as well as bowlers. It also applies to captains.
Then, suddenly, when no one was quite expecting it. the pitch decided to settle down. It was turning from Day 1… a few balls kept low, a few jumped and more than a few turned. But on Day 3, against the tide, it decided to have its say.
India batted, got past the lead and batted for the entire post-tea session without losing a wicket. It seems unbelievable because 10 wickets fell on Day 1, six wickets on Day 2 and a further eight in the first two sessions on day 3. Then, suddenly, no wickets fell and 89 runs were scored. The session had the warm glow of a miracle.
Yet as Bengaluru showed, time can also be your opponent and a pretty feisty one at that.
The pitch that seemed so good on Day 3, suddenly reverted to form. The Indians collapsed again, losing 6-36, setting Australia a target of 188.
When Australia came out to bat, it seems like they had decided to go for quick runs. The pitch was not conducive to batting, it had deteriorated and the cracks were opening up. So rather than hang around, they attacked. In the first eight overs, they scored 40 runs at a run-rate of 5.00. Far faster than anything we had seen in the match. And then the wickets started to fall.
Not a spectator sport?
Each ball, then, was like a puzzle and you only had so much time to solve it: where will it pitch, will the bowler give it flight, will the pitch do something, will the batsman attack or defend, will he use his feet… all in-the-moment questions, questions that not just the players are asking, but also the spectators. There are many who say Test cricket isn’t a spectator sport but then they clearly haven’t been at the ground for a day like this.
Everyone was involved. The silence before a ball, the cheers after it, the gentle applause, the madness, it was all happening but you couldn’t take your eyes off the field. It was maddening, yet in a strange way therapeutic too.
And truly, if one takes the time and feels the rhythms of the game, the magic of Test cricket manifests itself in more ways than one. Perhaps, to give them their due – ODIs and T20s allow us to appreciate Tests better. Because in an era where we have no time to stand and stare, Test cricket allows us to slow down and enjoy cricket for all that it was meant to be. And that counts for something, right?