May 30, 2014 scripted the story of a man in need of believing in himself, and boy did Virender Sehwag do just that. It told the tale of a father who had a promise to keep, which he did. It narrated the account of a player who had to slay his inner demons and shatter the doubts, which he did. The day announced the return of the Sehwag phenomenon who had to turn the clock back one last time and deliver a knock of the same ilk that defined his remarkable career. You guessed it, he did.
In all honesty, it was unexpected. Never was it slated to be Sehwag’s day, instead the name on every mouth was that of an Australian – Glenn Maxwell. It was Maxwell whose flamboyance and breathtaking variety were in immaculate sync with the essence of the tournament. The IPL, in its seventh season, was already stealing a major fraction of the Indian viewership from daily evening soaps, and players like Maxwell undoubtedly remained one of the reasons behind it.
Sehwag, on the other hand, was somewhat of a misfit in the rejuvenated Kings XI squad. Amid the new era of exciting prospects, Sehwag’s bespectacled and unassuming figure cut a rather dated picture. His silent, almost inconspicuous, presence as a fielder was in stark contrast to the eye-catching agility of cricket’s modern era. His unpredictable belligerence, now seemingly affected by senility, was suffering an existential crisis. In more ways than one, Sehwag’s was a name that failed to strike the perfect chord with the IPL.
THE BEGINNING OF THE DESTRUCTION
It was Sehwag’s day, and nothing could stop him (Ctsy: BCCI)
So, as the Chennai Super Kings squared off against Kings XI Punjab for the second qualifier, all eyes rested on MS Dhoni, Maxwell, Mohit Sharma and the like. Few seemed to be concerned about the Sehwag factor, a dangerous mindset to have.
Batting first was always going to be a nervous affair for the Preity Zinta owned franchise, considering the reputation of Dhoni and Suresh Raina as finishers. And with Punjab opener Manan Vohra struggling to get anywhere near in line with the ball, let alone hit it, Kings XI supporters struggled to hold their impatience during the overs that preceded Maxwell walking to the crease.
As it ultimately turned out, Vohra didn’t depart for a full 10 overs. When he did, the most-awaited No. 3 batsman of the tournament marched in only to stay for six deliveries before returning to the dugout. Meanwhile, the crowd had already moved on from Maxwell to the man they had once worshipped as a demi-god. Inside the 22 yards, a determined Sehwag was winning hearts back at a rate faster than his innings.
DISPROVING THE PREVALENT NOTIONS
He drove on the up, cleared the straight boundary, guided the ball through gully with ease and all without any suggestion of footwork, Sehwag’s trademark nonchalance on full display. The hand-eye coordination that had once made the term, ‘see-ball-hit-ball’, a household phrase in India was, one assumed, long gone. What remained were mere vestiges of his once lightning reflexes.
The cheeky boundaries on the offside and the upper cuts that cleared the ropes had the then 35-year-old’s signature written all over them. As Punjab completed the Powerplay with 70 runs on the board and Sehwag and Vohra still at the crease, the Wankhede was slowly beginning to fathom the remarkable situation unfolding.
The Nawab of Najafgarh raced to his half-century in 21 deliveries. Ravichandran Ashwin and Ravindra Jadeja, in particular, were dealt with slaughterhouse treatment as the right-hander slapped them for sixes time and again. The man who rewrote history at Multan a decade ago was back. For the first time in a long time, the IPL bore witness to vintage Sehwag.
A PROMISE TO DELIVER WHEN THE STAKES WERE HIGH
As if to mock those who expected too much, Sehwag decelerated in the 90s and reached his century with three singles. Even then, he boasted of a strike-rate of 200. Post hundred, Sehwag continued his onslaught, clearing the field at will and milking a despondent Ashish Nehra for easy runs. He ultimately perished on the last ball of the 18th over, having carved a magnificent 122 off 58 deliveries.
Punjab finished on 226 – a score that turned out to be adequate even after Raina’s 25-ball 87. As Sehwag collected his Player of the Match trophy for single-handedly catapulting the Kings XI to their first IPL final, he could not help revealing his motivation.
“There is one thing I was inspired by, whenever I got out early. I called my son and he said, ‘Papa, you are not a good player, you are not scoring runs,’ so I said, ‘Hold on, there are a couple of games left, so maybe I’ll show you what I’m capable of.’”
Quite naturally, Wankhede was gripped by the emotions of the man who had once reigned in their hearts only to fade away in the last couple of years and now return again. Back in the stands, a teary-eyed Zinta had echoed the thoughts of every Sehwag fan when the maverick was raising hell in the middle.
Yet, the sadness was palpable. Sehwag wasn’t coming back in Indian colors – that dream had long been over. One Friday night hadn’t changed everything. All it had done was to show the world that one of the most destructive openers it had ever seen still had the ability to wreck havoc on his day.
Yes, reality was cruel, almost unforgiving. But the day belonged to Sehwag anyway. It was a strange poetic justice – one that only Sehwag and his fans could appreciate and revel in the glory of.
