Neunundneunzig runs

When it comes to batting tragedies (or comedies, or tragi-comedies, take your pick) there is nothing quite like a 99. The first one I ever saw was the one inflicted on Javed Miandad. I still remember the fielder: Srikkanth. But not the bowler (Cricinfo tells me it was Madan Lal!). In those days, Miandad was quite a favorite of mine, and I was keen to see him get his ton. He dithered in the 90s, got stuck on 99, and then incredibly, was gone, to a scooped-off-the-shoelaces catch by Cheeka. I had heard about 99s but didn't think I would ever see one or that it would happen to a batsman whose success I was invested in (a few years later, I would have rejoiced on seeing Miandad dismissed on 99).

Since then, incredibly, I've never seen a 99 live again in test cricket. I've seen plenty on highlights I missed Ricky Ponting's 99 last year against South Africa because I was called away for a cup of tea by my sis-in-law. I was visiting India at the time and a beautiful Delhi morning beckoned. I wasn't feeling too fond of Ricky at that time so there is a good chance I would have cheered.

For a good example of the kind of reaction that a 99 dismissal can engender, check out this one from the now-sadly-defunct Outside the Line. What made Ponting's dismissal particularly catastrophic was that he had scored 101 in the first innings. Still, a nice round 200 for the game. Not a bad return, and one that every single batsman in the world would envy.

I have, however, borne witness to a Tendulkar 99, which was a pretty painful experience. (If I remember correctly, it was one of the three he picked up in one-day internationals in 2007, probably against England).

The most painful 99 for me, however, was one I read about in a newspaper: Kim Hughes' dismissal against England in the non-Ashes series of 1979-80. I'll never forget the horror of that morning. I had eagerly run out to get the paper to check the first day's scores and still remember thinking there must have been a mistake when I read the score. It turned out to be a match-winning score, because without his 99 out of a first-innings 244, Australia would have been in much worse shape in that game. But that was no consolation for me. My hero had come so close and yet had been cruelly denied. (Someday I need to write a post about my Kim Hughes obsession, which would put my reaction into some perspective.)

So, how do I feel about the Pietersen dismissal yesterday? Strangely indifferent. There was a time when KP did get under my skin and my reactions might have been akin to those of DS Henry's above. But KP has become more human recently, perhaps lost a bit of his swagger and so concomitantly has lost his ability to get under my skin as well. Schadenfreude isn't that much fun in those circumstances. Still, bully for the Bangers; it must have lifted their spirits a bit.

Dhoni the canny (sorry, I meant Dravid)

This is how reputations get made. We have Nasser talking up Dhoni as a captain on Sky, talking about how well Dhoni has used the bowling powerplay in the past, because "there was one match, I think Goa, when England were going well, and Dhoni just held the powerplay back, and it was so hot, and their batsmen got tired, and then when the bowling powerplay was finally taken, they were too exhausted to take advantage."

Yeah. The tactics sound very canny. Except that the captain of India in the game Nasser was talking was Rahul Dravid (it was in Kochi, not Goa, but that is a minor error). In the match in question, the fourth one-day international of the 2006 ODI series, England seemed to have got off to a flyer, but then slowed, and finally lost their way, especially when the bowling powerplay claimed the wickets of Flintoff and Pietersen.

MSD, thou art blessed.

"Just like the old days"

Yes, indeed, Nasser, just like the "old days". Jerome Taylor, with his first ball after lunch, sends Kevin Pietersen's off-stump flying with a beautiful delivery that seems to be drifting just a little towards leg, but is in fact, heading inexorably towards the timber. And the stump does a few neat cartwheels before finally lying supine, as if to say it had had enough. And the young quick takes off on a run of his own, the now-well-established "catch me if you can" routine. Sabina Park, of course, goes wild. What scenes. What scenes indeed, and what a reminder of what the cricketing world misses when the West Indies are not at the top of their game. Come on lads, can't you do this more often? God only knows the world of test cricket needs it.