Cricket Is But A Stage And We Are Merely Players

Watching and waiting for Tendulkar

It was a day for Indian cricket when Sachin left Ashwin faced.

It's very hard not to believe that the pitch at Wankhede Stadium wasn't doctored in the weeks leading up to the first day. With the series already comfortably India's, a run heavy draw was of no concern but allowing a certain home boy to score a milestone century in front of his own crowd must have been an idea which had rupees written all over it.

The Indian reply to West Indies first innings of about a million ended a hundred or so short but it was a stage which had been set the previous evening for one actor - an whom everyone had come for on the fourth day. Tendulkar walked on stage for the second act, support cast in place, adoring audience near breatless with anticipation. The script was followed to a tee and Tendulkar reached 94. Perhaps here the script said that Tendulkar, the batsman who has most often of all raised his hundreds with one meaty blow for six, would do so at Wankhede: crowd to go wild, media to frenzy and world to look on in amazement and remark how remarkable.

Someone forgot to brief The Game. Cricket, fickle and in no need of gender to prove it, decided to ad lib or do we now call it improvise? Ravi Rampaul, more than happy to be the villain subject of hissing, found a tad more lift, Tendulkar played as if bored with lines and Darren Sammy took the catch at second slip. Stunned as mullet silence. Men held their faces for fear that their cultural wobble might shake their heads from their mounts. Women wept. Children asked simple innocent questions ... what happened ... who died ... can I have a Kulfi?

The man himself walked quietly off, consoling himself, no doubt, with the other ninety nine and waving his bat in appreciation to fans who still want so much more of him. As humble a sportsman as has ever graced his chosen field, he would be devastated if he believed the occasion had been set just for him. Definitely not his style. It was another moment for all of us to remember just how much more important the game is than the individual.

Ravi Ashwin a maiden 103

Wankhede would have a hero to cheer late in the day. Ravi Ashwin, shared 97 runs with Kohli, who left in self-hatred after trying to hit to sacred cow corner and instead lobbed a simple catch to Fidel Edwards at a shorter than usual long on. It was Bishoo's only reward and unfitting benefit for the West Indies best bowler. If only Carlton Baugh could catch. Ashwin set about keeping the tail alive whilst plastering a batsman's fours and sixes to most parts of the ground. His final four, steered between slip and gully off the party pooper Rampaul, gave him a maiden Test hundred and the status of being only the third Indian to take five wickets in an innings and score a hundred in the same Test.

Adrian Barath and Kirk Edwards played dumb shots to hand their wickets to Ohja and a small crack of light came through the door. Barath drove lazily in the early overs and not long after Edwards went kamikaze, jumping down the wicket and being stumped so easily my grandma could have removed the bails and she's been dead for twenty years. Edwards was kicking himself as he left - an interesting sight - but he might have to reserve some butt space for team management. Kraigg Brathwaite and Darren Bravo calmed the savage beast, restoring order after moments of madness. There is still work to do but Bravo must be considering another hundred as a savoury option for his fifth day feasting.

There are still plenty of runs on the buffet.