MATCH STORIES
Follow UsWhat’s the worst thing that could happen to Ireland?
Of course, India. But little did they know that playing India in New York could be the worst thing in their T20 World Cup history. Even if you thought about a realistic angle where Ireland would beat India, that would've disappeared after watching Arshdeep Singh bowl.
Every ball had a spring in its step. You remember those Nike Alphaflys? The ones that were banned because they were like these running shoes on a dopamine rush? That one which allowed Kenya’s Eliud Kipchoge to run a freaking marathon in under two hours! And, for a good reason, that Alphaflys were banned.
That’s not power, that’s superpower.
Something similar happened here in cricket.
When the two teams reached New York, they knew. They knew that doomsday was around the corner. They knew that the drop-in pitch was going to behave like Hulk after overdosing in one of that green liquid. They understood that the match would be reduced to a no-contest if they won the toss.
That’s New York. Welcome to the Land of Opportunity.
Yaw, that land of opportunity where you have a golden opportunity to ruin everything that makes New York, New York. On this pitch, you didn’t have to worry about anything apart from just landing the ball because it would take care of it.
Simpler than what NASA are doing in Washington, D.C., with all those damn codes. Arshdeep Singh didn’t have a big task, to be frank. All he had to do was bowl the ball wherever he wanted, and the pitch would automatically take good care of it.
Ask Paul Stirling. He struggled, no doubt. But Arshdeep didn’t bowl a beauty. He was not even the best; he had bowled the entire night, and yet the ball bounced on him like a top ace would skid off the surface at the US Open.
Five deliveries later, it stayed low like a plastic ball would just run off a carpeted surface. This isn’t any other carpet, this is New York, one of the costliest carpets in world cricket at the moment. In just five deliveries. Being dramatic? Sure.
Overdramatic? New York.
Extravaganza, yes, but not of the good kind. The bounce was such that even Bangalore’s weather would be bamboozled looking at the carpet. You could see that in Arshdeep’s second over, he bowled at a length, but it travelled up and beyond. Same delivery, two different results.
When Jasprit Bumrah took the ball in his hand, he knew that he didn’t have to be at his 100%; he would have caused chaos, eyes closed. That’s how it panned. One seamed in, one seamed out, and one bounced off the roof. You could have batted your eyes closed and done the same.
Ask Lorcan Tucker, he will nod his head and walk away in profanity. It wasn’t bad. It was terrible. It jagged back from a length that Tucker could only tuck his bat under his armpit and walk the long mile.
If you ask Harry Tector, he might be openly profane. It was a bouncer, but it became a bouncer, similar to how Sreesanth humiliated Jacques Kallis. At 36/4, the match wasn’t beginning to slip away; it was starting to end.
Look away, cricket fans. Look away, new cricket fans.
Look away, whoever wishes for cricket to be sane; New York isn’t for you.
Stan Lee did his best to come up with superheroes and villains in the country and the world. But even he couldn’t achieve what the curators did, destroy the very sentiments of the game. Like how Alphafly broke running, New York is beginning to break cricket.
In a way, you wouldn’t have even thought in your wildest dreams.
“On this kind of surface you need to be disciplined and hit the right areas,” said Hardik Pandya.
If you watched any over from this clash or even glanced through the highlights from South Africa crushing Sri Lanka, you would say all you had to do was bowl. Cricket was cricket. New York was New York.
Now, neither are the same.
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