From Tendulkar to Kohli, and South Africa’s ‘good’ news

South Africa suffered their heaviest defeat in all their 667 ODIs.

Telford Vice / Eden Gardens

WHILE all of India, it seemed, obsessed about Virat Kohli equalling Sachin Tendulkar’s world record of 49 ODI centuries at Eden Gardens on Sunday, South Africa fixed their focus on winning. Or at least staying competitive well enough to emerge with their dream of a first ever title not having curdled into another tournament nightmare.

Like every other side who have faced the Indians at this World Cup, Temba Bavuma’s team did not achieve their primary goal. But the second mattered more, as too often at past events they have played unrecognisably, infuriatingly poor cricket compared to their performances from just days before.

Their place in the semifinals this time is assured, like India’s. But South Africa’s chances of advancing to the final would be severely impaired should they be blown away by the strongest side at the World Cup in a manner that raised the ghosts of their previous exits.

Essentially, they needed to give India a run for their money. As Rahul Dravid said on Saturday, “If we keep executing our skills and somebody outplays us and beats us, then good luck. We shake their hand and walk away.” So, can the South Africans say they went down to demonstrably the better outfit on the day/night, and that they gave as much as they had and were hammered regardless? Or that they let themselves and their supporters down in an all too familiar fashion? The simplistic answer would be yes, but that doesn’t get us far in analysing what happened.

Being beaten by 243 runs — South Africa’s heaviest defeat in all their 667 ODIs — is never a good thing. Suffering that fate because you were bowled out for 83 — their joint second-lowest total — in 27.1 overs is even worse. Neither is it edifying to haemorrhage 91 runs in the powerplay. Nor to concede 326/5, India’s second-biggest total of the tournament. Only four times in their 1,049 ODIs have India inflicted a bigger hiding. 

This was domination. And that, counterintuitively, is good news for the South Africans. They did not beat themselves. They were outplayed. After so many years of wondering how they could give such an unworthy account of themselves, particularly when they were under pressure, this represents progress.

Or does it? With both sides knowing they were already in the semis, there was minimal pressure in terms of the bigger picture. At least not on South Africa. What has become India’s travelling roadshow of a World Cup means they are duty-bound to play a high-octane brand of cricket at all nine grounds they will visit. And, when it’s working as well as it has, the pressure on the home is purely positive.    

Perhaps that philosophy prompted Rohit Sharma to bat first, which could be read as a gamble — his team had won five of their seven matches chasing. But South Africa had been victorious five times out of seven when they had taken guard first. It shows India’s confidence that, in the interests of negating their opponents’ proven prowess, they were willing to change tactics and move away from their own strength. You can do that when you have a team who have no apparent weaknesses.

That could also be said of the South Africans, but to an exponentially lesser degree. Playing against them is taking on an excellent team of mortals. Coming up against India is tantamount to trying to retain the right to be on the same field as demigods of the modern game. As hyperbolic as that sounds, the Indians are backing up that statement with their performances.

When these teams met at the 2011 World Cup, in Nagpur, Tendulkar himself scored a century for the ages but South Africa won. On Sunday, Kohli’s unbeaten 101 was — by his standards — scratchy and at times unconvincing; his strike rate of 83.47 is his lowest when he has made a hundred, and that can’t all be ascribed to a pitch that turned sharply. But Kohli and his fellow superhumans in India’s team know who and what they are.

So do the Eden Gardens crowd. The only other time India have played a World Cup match at this ground, the 1996 semifinal against Sri Lanka, the game was awarded to the Lankans “by default”, the scorers recorded, after spectators rained missiles onto the field — mostly plastic bottles — to protest India’s shaky display. Play was abandoned immediately a glass bottle was thrown onto an area of the outfield where Kumar Dharmasena was stationed.

This time there no such regrettable aggression, and nothing to spark it. Even the lift that services the members’ club has been committed to non-violence: its muzak is the puerile non-jazz inflicted on the world by the talentless Kenny G.

The real music was played on the field. As they have done everywhere they have played, the Indians wooed and wowed their fans. And impressed the sprinkling of South African supporters in the stands into the bargain. Dharmasena, too, would have had his World Cup memory of the ground updated — he was one of the standing umpires on Sunday.

If you weren’t South African you went home giddily happy. If you were South African you went home dazed and confused at how the second-best team in the tournament, as per the standings, not opinion, could have been left in the dust so convincingly. All went home with the precious memory of the day/night Kohli caught up to Tendulkar.

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Cricket has seen its greatest game. Now what?

Stokes has lost his bat along with, apparently, his senses. He’s on his knees, his hands held up in what looks like surrender, eyes wide, wild and white with bewilderment. Don’t shoot.

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TELFORD VICE in London

IT was the ricochet that did it, that tipped Sunday’s men’s World Cup final over the edge of reason and into Tarantino territory.

Until then, this had been a cricket match. A tight, tense cricket match with a lot on the line but a cricket match nonetheless. No more, no less.

Three balls left in the game. Nine to get. Two wickets in hand. Trent Boult hares towards Ben Stokes.

A full toss starts on the line of the left-hander’s off stump and veers towards middle. Stokes smears it, meatily, like a punch to the gut, towards midwicket. Martin Guptill is on the case — charges in, gathers the ball with surgical slickness, uncoils into a throw aimed at the stumps Stokes is hoofing towards to complete a second run.

Stokes knows it’s going to be close. He dives. The ball is whistling towards a direct hit. If it somehow doesn’t find its target, Tom Latham is poised over the wicket, primed to do the needful.

But the ball never arrives. Instead it collides with Stokes’ outstretched bat as he crashes to earth. And away it scoots at an angle of about 160 degrees compared to where Guptill unlocked and unloaded.

Colin de Grandhomme is after the ball, but he is running like a man under water chasing a stone skipping on the surface. It takes the ball six seconds from the point of its contact with Stokes’ bat to the moment it bumps, apologetically, into the boundary cushion at third. It feels like six hours. De Grandhomme arrives a moment later, spent with effort and sick with the realisation of what this means.

Stokes has lost his bat along with, apparently, his senses. He’s on his knees, his hands held up in what looks like surrender, eyes wide, wild and white with bewilderment. Don’t shoot.

Kumar Dharmasena and Marais Erasmus confer, and Dharmasena turns his back on the pitch to signal the scorers. He holds up all five fingers of his right hand and the thumb of his left: six runs added. Three needed off two balls. 

Nevermind the rest. The fogginess in what cricket calls its laws about whether the run being completed should count if overthrows result, the two runouts off the last two balls — both without the batters having faced a ball, a first in a World Cup innings — to tie the scores, the super overs that failed to untie the scores, the boundary count that finally made England the champions — and was surely the revenge of some sport-hating ultra-nerd of a bean counter who sits stooped, openmouthed, sticky-eyed, unshowered for days, over a screen, captured by the numbers flitting this way and that, who wouldn’t know humanity if it opened a vein and bled all over him.

None of that is as weird as the ricochet. It’s the kind of miracle performed by accident at a pool table in a bar at 4am by the most hopeless player, who is drunk enough to forget how hopeless he is. Except that Stokes, like everybody else involved, is stone cold sober.

Perched high above all that, the 237 accredited journalists don’t know whether the pressbox is imploding or exploding. But they do know, when the fireworks finally rent the evening sky, that none of them has seen anything like this, much less reported on it. How do you write the final scoreline? England won by what? New Zealand lost by what?

Hours later one of the reporters, a former international player, rises from a laptop still steaming with the last of the thousands of words he has written this sacred and profane day. He offers a few more words, gently, quietly, with something like apprehension in his tired eyes, into the still sparking air.

“Jesus.

“Dunno.

“Super overs.

“Boundary counts.

“Sponge boundaries.

“LED stumps.

“Dunno.

“Christ.”

He is trying to reconcile the game he used to play and thought he would know forever with what he has seen, and he is failing. There is poignance here that must be protected and cherished. The gods bless and keep this man.

Remember when the 1999 World Cup final at Edgbaston was the greatest one-day international yet played (yes, my beloved wounded fellow South Africans, it really was)? Remember when the 438 game took that title on a crash-boom-bang crazy day at the Wanderers seven years later? Remember the suit-ruined, tear-stained 2015 World Cup semi-final at Eden Park?

Forget that. All of it. And all the other contenders. ODI cricket as we thought we knew it no longer exists.

All that does exist is a question too terrifying to answer, but which was asked by every beat of every racing heart in Sunday’s golden afterglow.

Where does this damn fool game go now that its greatest match has been played?

England make history, and earn chance to make more

TMG Digital + Print

TELFORD VICE in London

ENGLAND made men’s World Cup history at Edgbaston on Thursday, and earned the chance to do so again at Lord’s on Sunday.

Chris Woakes and Adil Rashid shared six wickets before Jason Roy hammered 85, 66 of them in fours and sixes, to earn the English victory over the Aussies by eight wickets with 17.5 overs to spare in their semi-final — and with it a crack at New Zealand in Sunday’s final at Lord’s.

Australia lost a semi for the first time, and new champions will be crowned this year: England have been to three finals and the New Zealanders to one, but neither have won the trophy.

England were last in the final in 1992, when they were beaten by Pakistan, and New Zealand lost out to Australia four years ago.

Eoin Morgan’s side reduced Australia to 14/3 inside seven overs before Steve Smith and Alex Carey put the innings back on track with a stand of 103.

Carey was four not out when he was struck on the grille of his helmet by Jofra Archer, a blow that lacerated the Australian’s chin.

After receiving treatment he batted on until the 28th over, when he was caught at deep midwicket off Rashid for 46.

Smith marshalled stands of 39 with Glenn Maxwell and 51 with Mitchell Starc before he was run out for 85 in the 48th trying to take a bye.

Woakes took 3/20 off eight overs with Rashid claiming 3/54 from his full quota.

England’s triumph was all but sealed in an opening stand of 174 by Roy and Jonny Bairstow — who have the highest average of all first-wicket pairs in one-day international history.

Bairstow, who needed treatment after collapsing with an apparent leg injury in the 12th over, recovered to score 34 before being trapped in from by Starc in the 18th.

That was Starc’s 27th wicket of the tournament, which broke the World Cup record set by another Australian, Glenn McGrath, in 2007.

A dozen balls later Roy was given out caught behind by Kumar Dharmasena after sparring at a legside delivery from Pat Cummins.

Replays showed the ball had hit neither bat nor glove, but Roy couldn’t be granted a reprieve because Bairstow had used England’s review after he was given out.

Roy stood his ground and remonstrated with Dharmasena and his colleague, Marais Erasmus, who had to convince the English to leave the crease.

“Fucking embarrassing,” Roy, who faced 65 balls and hit nine fours and five sixes, could clearly be heard saying on television as he left the scene.

His dismissal did nothing to derail his team’s impending success, and Joe Root and Eoin Morgan took England home with an unbroken stand of 79.

The Australians have been to seven World Cup finals and won five of them.

The closest they came to going down at the penultimate hurdle before Thursday’s game was their 1999 semi against South Africa, which was tied.

That match was also played at Edgbaston, where Australia last won in July 2001 — 15 matches ago in all formats.