On that sweltering day in Bridgetown, it was the prodigal son who, against all odds, emerged as the messiah. The Australians, a team defined by their blend of flair and ferocity, had come to the sun-drenched Caribbean with the singular aim of domination. They had made their intentions clear from the outset, with Glenn McGrath and Jason Gillespie dismantling the West Indies for a mere 51 runs in just 19.1 overs at the Queen’s Park Oval.
Yet, the narrative took a sharp turn when Brian Lara, the
captain, rose to the occasion at Sabina Park as if reclaiming his destiny.
With a majestic 213, Lara displayed a masterclass in stroke play, a performance
that seemed to transcend the ordinary. His brilliance not only restored the
West Indies' pride but also levelled the series with a resounding 10-wicket
victory. Initially appointed as captain for only the second Test, Lara's
leadership was extended for the remainder of the series, a testament to his
undeniable influence.
However, as the fourth afternoon of the final Test unfolded, the West Indies found themselves in a seemingly insurmountable predicament. The shadows of defeat lengthened across the pitch, and Lara walked out to bat in a situation that appeared hopeless. In those 28 minutes of play, amidst the growing inevitability of loss, the captain’s aura, once so commanding, seemed unable to alter the course of the match. The day had turned into a quiet metaphor for the decline of an era, with Lara’s valiant efforts unable to stem the tide of Australian dominance.
Australia's Dominance and the West Indies'
Struggle: A Tale of Resilience and Collapse
In truth, the West Indies’ predicament had already been
staved off from the edge of despair, though the reprieve was fleeting.
Australian captain Steve Waugh, having carried his form from Kingston, had been
denied a landmark double century by the cruellest of margins—falling one run
short of an achievement that would have been etched in history. Ricky Ponting,
an unexpected inclusion due to Greg Blewett’s injury, had taken full advantage of
the opportunity, crafting a fluent 104. Australia’s first innings, a formidable
490, was a testament to their resilience, particularly in the face of a West
Indian attack that had, for all its reputation, proven difficult to counter in
the early stages.
Both teams had fielded slow bowlers, anticipating a wicket
that would offer a turn. For the West Indies, Nehemiah Perry and Carl Hooper were
entrusted with the task, while Australia had the luxury of two leg spinners,
Shane Warne and Stuart McGill, whose craft was always a threat on such
surfaces.
The turning point came swiftly. On the third ball of the
West Indian innings, Ponting, ever alert, darted across from cover to run out
Adrian Griffith with the precision of a seasoned fielder. McGrath and Gillespie
then unleashed their fury, the latter dismissing Lara—caught fending off a
short ball—for a mere eight runs. By the close of the second day, West Indies
were struggling at 80 for four, and by the third morning, the collapse was
complete as they slid to 98 for six.
This was before the legendary Eden Gardens miracle of 2001 when such comebacks were still the stuff of improbable dreams. With the follow-on looming large, Waugh, sensing the inevitable end of the innings, decided to give his fast bowlers a well-earned respite. In a strategic shift, he turned to his spinners, allowing them to finish the job. The scene, now set for the final stages of a crushing Australian dominance, carried with it the weight of inevitability.
Sherwyn Campbell and Ridley Jacobs, perhaps sensing the
urgency of the moment, provided the West Indies with a vital respite, crafting
a partnership that was both resilient and defiant. The two batsmen,
particularly Campbell, who was playing in his home ground, skillfully navigated
the leg-spin duo of Warne and McGill, refusing to be cowed by their reputation.
Campbell, in what would become the defining innings of his career, settled into
a rhythm, and by the time McGrath was recalled, the partnership had gained an
unsettling momentum.
It was Ricky Ponting, however, who made the breakthrough, delivering a rare moment of inspiration by dismissing Jacobs for 68, ending a stand that had added 153 runs—a crucial total that would come to haunt Australia as the match unfolded. Yet, the resistance did not end there. Nehemiah Perry, Curtly Ambrose, and even Courtney Walsh, each contributing in their own way, helped Campbell defy the odds, guiding the West Indies past the follow-on mark. This dogged stand, borne out of sheer determination, not only delayed the inevitable but also injected a flicker of hope into the home side's fight for survival.
Australia’s Missed
Opportunity and the West Indies' Desperate Fight
Despite being handed a 161-run lead, Australia’s second
innings was a surprising disappointment. While Curtly Walsh was, as ever, a
model of tireless brilliance and Ambrose was equally miserly, much of
Australia’s downfall could be attributed to uncharacteristic lapses in
discipline. Michael Slater’s needless run-out and Steve Waugh’s ill-timed
drive, which saw him drag a delivery onto his stumps, were moments that spoke
of frustration rather than skill. The innings folded tamely for just 146,
leaving Australia with a target of 308—far less than they had hoped for when
they initially set out to bat the West Indies out of the match.
The West Indian response began with a solid partnership
between Campbell and Griffith, the two Bajan openers, who added 72 runs for the
first wicket. However, the momentum shifted swiftly when three quick wickets
fell for just 13 runs before the close of the fourth day, leaving the
Australians in the ascendant. At stumps, Lara remained unbeaten on two, with
Griffith still at the crease.
The final day began with the familiar rhythm of West Indian wickets tumbling, continuing from the previous evening’s collapse. Gillespie trapped Griffith leg before, and Hooper was caught behind, reducing the hosts to a precarious 105 for five. The target now loomed large, a seemingly insurmountable peak. Brian Lara, still at the crease, remained the last hope for the West Indies, but even his extraordinary talents could not mask the overwhelming sense that it was too much to ask for another of his miraculous rescues. The weight of history, the pressure of expectation, and the relentless Australian attack all seemed to conspire against him.
Lara's Brilliance and
McGrath's Fightback: A Battle of Wills
As anticipated, Brian Lara transformed into the messiah, conjuring miracles with the bat. In the previous Test, he and Jimmy Adams had forged a monumental 322-run partnership, a testament to their resilience. Now, as Adams dug in once more, Lara’s strokes seemed to defy the very laws of physics. His body coiled, spring-like, gathering energy before releasing it in a fluid outpouring of elegance and power. The covers were pierced with precision off McGrath and Gillespie. Against McGill, Lara disdainfully lofted two balls over mid-wicket, before turning one to fine leg for three boundaries in an over. Steve Waugh was dispatched with an air of scornful arrogance. By lunch, the West Indies had reached 161 for five—a significant recovery, but the Australians still held a commanding position. The fight, however, was far from over.
After the break, the Bridgetown crowd was treated to an
unforgettable display of brilliance, as Lara’s genius came to the fore. A long
hop from Warne was dispatched over deep mid-wicket, landing on the colourful
roof of the Greenidge and Haynes Stand, marking the moment Lara brought up his
half-century. Warne, now bowling into the rough, saw the ball turn sharply.
Lara, ever the master of timing, waited for it and late-cut the delivery
delicately past slip for four.
A savage cut followed off McGill, and then Lara threaded the
ball through point with precision before swinging over mid-on. The Australians,
sensing the tide turning, brought McGrath back and handed him the new ball. The
legendary paceman delivered a short ball, and Lara, unflinching, ducked into
it. The ball struck the back of his maroon helmet, momentarily unsettling him,
but he was up in an instant, running for a leg-bye with a smile breaking
through his focused expression. When he reached the other end, he collided with
McGrath, and the two shared a tense, silent exchange—an unspoken battle of
wills. McGrath, undeterred, bounced again the next over, but Lara, with
characteristic élan, rocked back and pulled him through mid-wicket for four.
When Gillespie took the ball, Lara’s bat descended from the
great heights of his backlift, swinging with full elegance through the line of
the ball. Twice, the ball raced to the boundary through the covers—once off the
front foot, once off the back. The target, once daunting, now seemed within
reach. Less than a hundred runs were required.
Warne, now under pressure, ran in again. Lara, with supreme
confidence, charged down the wicket and lifted him over mid-on for four. Off
came the helmet, and the crowd erupted in jubilant appreciation. Lara had
brought up his hundred in the defiant, arrogant manner that had defined his
entire innings. The second fifty had come off just 51 balls, the century off
169, with fourteen boundaries and a six. Immediately afterwards, Lara struck
another, sending the ball high and hard into the air. Warne, instinctively,
stuck out his hand, but the ball slipped through his grasp. The Australians,
visibly deflated, looked skyward in anguish.
Four runs later, with the score at 238, McGrath unleashed a masterful delivery—a peach that swung away at the last moment, beat the edge, and sent Adams’ off-stump cartwheeling. McGrath, already well into his 30th over, ran in again. Jacobs, leaning forward in defence, was struck on the pad. The Australians appealed, and the umpire raised his finger, adjudging him leg before. The very next ball saw Perry tentatively thrusting his pad forward, hoping for the best. The umpire’s finger went up again. In the span of three quick wickets, McGrath had once again shifted the balance. At 248 for eight, the target now seemed formidable. Lara, still at the crease, remained the last hope, but he could not do it alone. Someone had to stay with him if the West Indies were to pull off the improbable.
Ambrose, Walsh, and
Lara: A Triumph of Grit and Genius
Ambrose, the towering Antiguan, proved to be an unlikely
hero. With the bat resembling an oversized toothpick in his hands, he dug in
for 39 balls, contributing a gritty 12 runs. Meanwhile, Lara, ever the maestro,
continued to weave his magic. He pulled McGrath with authority, and swept Warne with
a flourish, finishing the stroke with a single hand. As the fielders closed in
to cut off the single off the last ball, Lara stepped down the track and
nonchalantly on-drove Warne to the boundary. In the next over, Lara’s
brilliance was on full display as he stretched, his head in perfect alignment
with the ball, and hammered it through the covers in a stroke of pure class.
At the other end, McGrath, now past 40 overs, was still
charging in. Ambrose, undeterred, poked him through gully for four, while McGrath
stood, hands on knees, head drooping, a silent testament to the toll of the
battle. With just 14 runs needed, the tension in the air was palpable.
Then, disaster struck for Australia once more. Gillespie, in
a final attempt to break the partnership, got the ball to move away from Lara.
The West Indian tried to glide it to third-man, but there was a thick edge, and
Ian Healy, diving to his left, failed to hold on. Lara had been given a second
reprieve, and the crowd in Bridgetown erupted in ecstatic disbelief.
With only six runs required for victory, Gillespie pitched
short, and Ambrose, in a moment of uncertainty, flirted with the delivery. The
ball flew to gully, where Matthew Elliott, who had endured a string of ducks,
clung to it as though his life depended on it. The Australians had taken one
final chance, but the match was still far from over.
Courtney Walsh, the venerable figure from an era when
rabbits were a fixture in batting line-ups, walked to the crease. His calm
demeanour suggested he was unfazed by the enormity of the task at hand. Batting
was never his forte, and perhaps that was the source of his serenity.
Gillespie, with his energy waning, sent down a no-ball, and
McGrath followed with a wide. The fast bowlers, their lungs and sinews pushed
to the limit, continued their relentless pursuit of the final wicket. Walsh,
with characteristic composure, left balls with a flourish, the bat tucked
neatly between his arm and chest in the follow-through. When McGrath, in his
final burst, fired in a yorker-length delivery, some divine intervention seemed
to guide Walsh’s bat down, stopping the ball dead. The stadium exhaled in
unison, a collective sigh of disbelief and hope.
Finally, with the field up, Gillespie ran in once more, and
Lara, in a moment of sublime simplicity, drove the ball through the covers. The
stands erupted in a cacophony of jubilation as West Indies completed an
improbable victory. The crowd, unable to contain their elation, flooded the
field in a stampede of joy.
Conclusion
Lara’s innings had been a masterclass in perseverance and artistry. He batted for seven minutes shy of six hours, faced 256 balls, and struck 19 fours and a six in his 153. The next highest score in the innings was a mere 38 by Adams.
The Daily Nation in Barbados proclaimed it “Match of the
Century,” with correspondent Haydn Gill writing: “It will go down in the
history books as one of the most spirited revivals ever, the victory coming
from the depths of despair.”
Steve Waugh, in his post-match reflections, called it the greatest Test he had ever played in. But it was the description of Walsh’s contribution that remains most endearing. According to the Jamaican who had survived those five tantalizing deliveries, it was Walsh who had, in his own unassuming way, won the match with the bat—though, of course, with a little help from Lara.
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