Wellington: There’s something about the underdogs; they are
the manifestation of some of the choicest of oxymorons existing in
English language- feeble yet fierce, pushy but occasional pushovers,
egotists but self-suspecting, the underdogs form a universe of fantasy,
the efficacy of which is subservient to none but its own levels of
limitless eccentricity and boundless bounty of exuberance.
While India briefly paraded the ‘underdog’ tag in early 2000s –
perhaps that’s the reason their march to Champions Trophy finals where
they incidentally bumped into perennial holders of the tag, the New Zealand,
remains a highly celebrated surge of sorts, or for that matter, their
memorable peak in the 2003 World Cup makes for one of Indian cricket’s
more retold folklore – the title of game’s eldest underdog would sit
pretty with the Kiwis.
The closest they came to lasting glory was in 1992, when as hosts
of the World Cup, they regularly punched above their weight until a
hopeless Pakistan were galvanized by the charm and chutzpah of a certain
Imran Khan. For some strange reason, they never really capatalised on
their sporadic bursts of brilliance, but whenever they did, the bursts
sounded more like blasts. Ask Steve Waugh’s Australia, who were
decimated in successive 300-plus run-chases on the eve of World Cup
1999. Ask Sourav Ganguly’s India, who ran into the doughty Chris Cairns in Nairobi in that
Champions Trophy final. Ask Naseer Hussain’s England, who, despite the
549-run cushion, got the scare of their life when Nathan Astle unleashed
carnage in Christchurch. Very soon, you might have to ask Mahendra Singh Dhoni
on how it felt to barge into Baz, whose menacing shadow loomed large
over a listless India for 525 futile balls and 281 (maybe more) historic
runs.
Yes, the 281 does ring a bell with Indians, and Australians. If
Kolkata 2001 were to be the prelude to the engaging saga of underdogs,
and if Laxman and Dravid were to be its stars, Wellington of 2014 could well be McCullum’s and Watling’s Eden moment.
When he walks out to knock off those precious 19 runs at Basin
Reserve on Tuesday, Brendon McCullum would have scored more than his
maiden triple ton. Michael Clarke did it as captain against India in
Sydney two seasons ago. That Clarke special not just ensured India lost
the plot, match and the series comprehensively, it did seminal work in
exposing India’s pace-less pace attack and turn-deprived tweakers. India
slipped with horrifying banality in remainder of Tests, and have failed
to win a five-day match outside home ever since. Two years hence, in
exquisite trans-Tasmania, Kiwi captain Brendon McCullum is busy
chronicling a fairytale of his own. The hard-hitting right-hander as
much loathed for his smash and sink approach as he is lauded for the
same, has done more than ensuring series victory for his side.
McCullum’s assault- forget the looming triple- is as much symbolic as it
is serene, coming as it did against the biggest of Big Three who
ascribed more than usual bragging rights to themselves in cricket’s
world order.
In hindsight, McCullum could well have declared on Monday to give
his bowlers more than a decent chance to scuttle a shaky India on fifth
day track. However, knowing the Kiwi skipper, it will technically take
him no more than four legal deliveries to reach the personal milestone
and throw the gauntlet to world’s number two Test team.
Its for individual efforts like these, and their sustained
aftermath, that cricket’s credentials as a team sport go for a six. Its
for dominance like that of Brendon Mccullum’s and brilliance like that
of Bradley Watling’s that rearguard resurgence trumps banal brutality
and guranteed dominance. Its for the erratic yet engaging Kiwis that
cricket, and underdogs thrive despite commerce and game’s
self-proclaimed bodyguards. India, despite being bitten by game’s
gentle underdogs, have much to thank them. The slide-show is on.
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