The morning in Dhaka dawned like countless others—chaotic yet rhythmic, vibrant yet weary. Beyond the high fences of the Australians’ hotel, the city pulsed with its customary energy. Children splashed in a swamp tinged green by algae, indifferent to the spectacle brewing a few miles away. Rickshaw-pullers, their weary legs propelling the city’s lifeblood, bickered over right-of-way, and at the Syedabad junction—where the arteries of Dhaka converged into a cacophony of honking horns and blurred movement—Australia’s all-conquering cricketers found themselves bound by the same fate as the common man: waiting for the chaos to subside.
Their
lime-green team bus inched through the choked streets, past Narayanganj’s chai
stalls with their flickering television sets, under a grand bamboo gate draped
in pleated white cloth, and finally through the gates of Fatullah Stadium—Test
cricket’s 93rd venue. This was a ground not yet steeped in history, unlike the
Bangabandhu National Stadium, now resigned to football. It was in this new
coliseum that Bangladesh’s cricketers, still seen as cricket’s neophytes, would
face the might of the world champions.
Few, if
any, expected the next five days to be anything more than a formality. The
Australians, battle-hardened from an unrelenting schedule, had barely recovered
from their conquest in Johannesburg. Even Ricky Ponting, their indomitable
captain, later admitted that if the team had been "fair dinkum," one
or two of his men would not have even boarded the bus that morning. Yet, no
amount of weariness could have prepared them for what was to unfold.
A Storm in the Making
The
psychological battle had been won long before a ball was bowled. Not by
Australia, but by the weight of expectation—or rather, the lack of it.
Bangladesh, led by the affable yet pragmatic Habibul Bashar, entered the
contest with nothing to lose. When asked to predict the outcome, Bashar could
only laugh. "Oh yeah, we’re just going to thrash them and clean sweep the
series!" he quipped, knowing all too well that even his 144 million
compatriots saw this match as an opportunity to learn rather than win.
Yet, within
minutes of the first delivery, a subtle shift took place. Lee, in full flight,
sent down a thunderous maiden to Javed Omar, who survived by the skin of his
bat. It was a passage of play that should have cemented Australia’s dominance,
but what followed defied every expectation.
At the
other end, a 20-year-old left-hander named Shahriar Nafees stood unshaken. If
he was daunted by the sight of Lee steaming in, he showed no sign of it. His
response to Stuart Clark’s short-pitched offering was emphatic—a ferocious pull
shot that would have done his idol, Adam Gilchrist, proud. From that moment,
momentum belonged to Bangladesh.
Nafees
batted with the audacity of youth, refusing to let reputation dictate his
approach. When Lee struck him on the helmet, he simply watched as the ball
ricocheted to the boundary for four leg-byes. When Warne—a bowler who had
shattered the confidence of far greater teams—came into the attack, Nafees
swept him with remarkable ease. He exuded the presence of a man playing on
instinct, not burdened by history but writing his own.
By lunch,
Bangladesh had amassed 144 for one, outscoring England’s much-revered first
session at Edgbaston during the Ashes, and in fewer overs.
A Day Beyond Imagination
As the
session progressed, the records continued to tumble. Nafees and Bashar, the
architect and the anchor, forged a partnership of 187 runs—Bangladesh’s highest
for any wicket at the time. When Nafees reached his maiden Test century, it was
not with tentative singles or cautious nudges, but with his 16th four, a
statement of intent as much as it was an achievement. He would go on to strike
19 boundaries in his monumental 138.
For
Australia, there was no reprieve. The scorching heat and a bone-dry,
sand-coloured pitch as unyielding as stone conspired against them. The wily Warne,
usually a master of adaptation, was rendered ineffective, his 20 wicketless
overs costing a staggering 112 runs.
At day’s end, Bangladesh stood at a formidable 355 for five. A local newspaper aptly described the spectacle as “better than imagination.”
A Moment in Time
Even as
Bangladesh’s innings reached its eventual conclusion at 427—its second-highest
total in Test history—there lingered a sense of disbelief. Surely, the tide
would turn. Surely, Australia would reassert their authority.
Yet, the
unthinkable continued.
In a
breathtaking spell before tea, Bangladesh’s bowlers struck with venom. Hayden,
Ponting, and Martyn all fell in rapid succession, leaving the world champions
reeling at 50 for three. Then, as the evening shadows stretched across
Fatullah, the spin duo of Rafique and Enamul Haque continued the onslaught. By
stumps, Australia limped to 93 for six.
At that
moment, history stood within Bangladesh’s grasp.
The Turning of the Tide
Yet, for
all their brilliance, Bangladesh had one weakness—an inability to deliver the
final blow. Their coach, Dav Whatmore, knew this frailty all too well. He
feared what was coming, and with good reason.
Adam
Gilchrist, once a relentless enforcer, had suffered a prolonged slump in form.
But on this day, he found within himself the ability to adapt. His innings was
a study in controlled aggression, his first fifty painstakingly crafted. Yet,
even in his restraint, he reached two milestones—surpassing Chris Cairns’s record
of 87 Test sixes, and later, crossing 5,000 Test runs.
By the time
he was last out for a masterful 144, Australia had avoided the follow-on. The
deficit of 158 was substantial, but not insurmountable.
The Inevitable Collapse
Bangladesh’s
second innings was a return to type. Australia’s attack, reawakened from its
slumber, ran riot. Gillespie and Warne sliced through the batting order,
reducing the hosts to a meek 148. The dream was slipping away.
Yet, one
final twist remained.
A Chase Fraught with Peril
Chasing 307
on a deteriorating pitch, Australia took an uncharacteristically cautious
approach. Hayden, normally the enforcer, tempered his instincts. Hussey,
uncharacteristically, fell sweeping at Enamul.
Just when
normalcy seemed restored, Bangladesh struck back. Rafique, the tireless
left-arm spinner, dismissed four Australians across two days. The crowd sensed
the impossible once more. At 283 for seven, the scales teetered
dangerously.
Then,
fate—so often cruel to underdogs—dealt its final hand.
Mashrafe
bin Mortaza, the heart and soul of Bangladesh’s attack, saw an opportunity to
dismiss Ponting. A mistimed hook lobbed towards fine leg. It should have been
taken. But it wasn’t. The ball slipped through his hands, and with it,
Bangladesh’s last real chance at immortality.
Ponting,
sensing reprieve, capitalized. His 31st Test hundred ensured Australia’s
escape.
More Than a Match
Bangladesh
lost. The history books recorded Australia’s three-wicket victory, another
statistic in their era of dominance. But for those who witnessed, this match
was not about numbers. It was about a day when Bangladesh stood eye to eye with
the best in the world and refused to blink.
It was not
a victory, but it was a statement—a whisper of what was to come.
Thank You
Faisal Caesar
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