I live the dream and put Murali in reverse

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Normally when I reverse-sweep Muttiah Muralitharan behind point for four ? or Shane Warne, Curtly Ambrose, Fred Trueman or Wilfred Rhodes, for that matter,the next thing that happens is the alarm goes offMore... Normally when I reverse-sweep Muttiah Muralitharan behind point for four - or Shane Warne, Curtly Ambrose, Fred Trueman or Wilfred Rhodes, for that matter, the next thing that happens is the alarm goes off. Not this time. This time, off the final delivery of the most heart-thumpingly exhilarating 20 minutes of my sporting life, I blinked and looked up and Murali was still standing there, huge eyes still blazing bright... and for one brief, unforgettable moment, the off-spinner who is the most successful wicket-taker in Test match history belonged to me. Seven hundred and 13 times in 116 matches since he made his debut against Australia at Colombo's Premadasa stadium in 1992, Test batsmen have known what it was like to feel the stiletto thrust of the smiling assassin. Players of the majesty of Brian Lara — whom Murali rates as the best of his time — Steve Waugh, Sachin Tendulkar and Kevin Pietersen have shared the experience of being utterly convinced that they have successfully read the ball out of his hand, and ended up being made to look like a Keystone Kricketer. And now, on behalf of those of us who usually only dream of these things, I was experiencing just what it is like to try to avoid such unpleasantness. How to do it? The night before we met in the nets at the SSC ground in the Sri Lankan capital, I had read Waugh's brilliantly evocative description of facing what he called 'the ultimate challenge, with the ball reaching you a split second later than you envisaged, as if he's bowled two balls at you and you need to focus on the second one'. As I prepared to face the first ball of the two-over spell Murali's had agreed to bowl to me, the words of Ranjitsinjhi kept ringing around my brain: 'See the ball, go there, hit it.' I thought of Boycott's concentration, of Gooch footwork, of Botham's brawn, Flintoff's power, Lara's high backlift and Tendulkar's mile-wide bat. And my final thoughts were of the sage words offered by Steve Harmison: 'Strap a pad on each leg and one on your head.' But suddenly there it was and... Oh My God, I forgot to look at his hand... which way.... which way ? No idea. Get to the pitch - GET TO THE BLOODY PITCH - oh hell ... no option.... lunge and, somehow, to the utter shock of all involved, the ball made its way to the middle of the bat. Had I had peaked too soon ? I charged at the next three deliveries only to arrive fractionally late and squirt both backwards off inside edge on to pad and just past leg stump. Then, almost managing to suppress a giggle, he let me have it: the wrong 'un, the off-spinner's leg-spinner, the one they said was unpickable, to which, of course, I went back and across and cut imperiously for four past cover. No, really, I did. Apparently genuinely impressed, Murali called out: 'So, you can spot the "doosra".' As far as I was concerned there was little to be gained at that point from revealing that my method was based not on picking him from the hand, but on trusting the law of averages. 'You're kidding, right?' I responded. 'Mate, if I were you, I wouldn't bother bowling it again.' Big mistake. Huge. To say merely that I didn't lay a bat on any of the next six would be to suggest the faint possibility that it might have been within my power to do so. Granted, had I actually connected with the fourth, the text book lofted on-drive I executed — head still, weight going through the shot, front knee bent — would surely have forced Murali to change his mode of attack. Only problem was I missed by the width of his smile. And by now all my senses were taking a battering. The first feeling was of just not being able to breathe. Then there was the sight of the ball as it seemed to hang in the air for a nanosecond before dipping down to land, then appeared to accelerate off the pitch, jagging back like a seamer into the inner thigh of my right leg. Finally, most unnervingly of all, the sound of the ball hissing as it cut through the air. Good God, this bloke literally makes the ball talk. And what it was saying as it passed me on both sides of the bat, then under then over, was 'Muppet'. And so I was left with the one remaining option. Whether he had failed to spot me switching hands before he even let go of the ball or by this time was past caring, I do not know. Either way, when it came I was ready. When the ball stopped hissing and landed and kept coming at me, I swung the bat cack-handed, from left to right, and the rest was ecstasy. 'What was that then, about 12 for four?' I asked him afterwards. 'No, no,' he said. 'Only three.' 'But that reverse-sweep... can you teach me how to play it?" In your dreams, Murali. In your dreams.

[King]

Good read :two_thumbs_up: Wonderfully written and expressed. This is the sort of experience the batsmen go through when facing the likes of Murali. I've had one or two such experience and geez they make you feel miserable the good bowlers. In particular the wily spinners and out right fast bowlers.