Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Inside a batsman's head

The batsman has stepped out of his crease, only managing to defend the ball to the fielder stationed at mid-off. It is a sign that he is trying to break free. The required run-rate is climbing up with every passing ball. The confidence, meanwhile, is not.

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15 balls for his 2 runs. The tension is clearly visible in his eyes- which are constantly looking around at the field. He is sweating profusely under the batting helmet. The close-in fielders are reading the situation and chirping around. "It is a walking wicket", the wicket-keeper sledges. The silly mid-on fielder joins in the fun. The 40,000 plus turnout in the audience  is cheering every dot ball. The pressure is enormous.
The thoughts in his mind are coming up faster than the bowler. "Should I take more time before I find the timing? Should I go for the big one to unsettle the attacking field?"

The next ball is tossed up again. This time, the doubt planted in previous ball has crept in. He doesn't step out. The feet are adamantly stuck on the crease. The bat comes down late-almost as an afterthought, and the ball goes past the inside edge into the keeper's gloves. The ooohs and aaahs follow. This could have been the curtains for the batsman.

His eyes flit between the field and the scoreboard. 16 balls, he tells himself. The cover has been moved to an attacking short-cover for the careless drive. He pays attention to the minor adjustment and makes up his mind to go above the short-cover if it is in his zone. He instantly changes his mind-looking at the two slip fielders standing like predators lurking around in the bushes. " What if I miss the line and end up edging it", he does the maths in an instant. "But  I need to do something here, the runs are drying up", he builds the thought in favour of the aerial shot. 

Even before he is finished with the thought, the next ball comes out of the leg-spinner's hand. the batsman plants the front-foot ahead, gears up for the shot over short-cover and swings hard at the ball. His eyes light up in concentration. The ball, coming from the back of the hand, turns the other way. Like a snake, it surreptitiously finds a way between the swinging bat and the outreached front foot, and crashes into the middle stump.The deception by wrist movement has done the damage.

The rattle is loud. The distraught batsman doesn't have the courage to look back at the rubble. He has been familiar with this sound. The fielders converge. The bowler conceals his excitement, almost because the prize hasn't been a big wicket of a settled batsman.The pre-meditated shot doesn't come off. And the muffled thoughts inside the batsman's head are vanished in an instant. In a way, he feels lighter to be relieved of the tortuous 20 minutes in the middle. The things start to look simple in hindsight. The walk to pavilion is a thought-provoking one. Like life flashing before your eyes at the time of death, he watches his mistakes in slow-moving snapshots.

He knows what had happened, The mind had given in. Everything else was a consequence.

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