Some innings shape matches, and then some innings transcend the game itself—moments of such rare, uninhibited brilliance that they etch themselves into cricketing folklore. At the Green Park Stadium in Kanpur, under the searing afternoon sun, Shahid Afridi conjured one such innings, an exhibition of audacious stroke play that defied logic and physics alike.
In just 75 minutes of unrelenting carnage, he swung not only his bat but also the match and the series decisively in Pakistan’s favour. A fighting total of 249 was reduced to irrelevance as Afridi’s 45-ball hundred—the second-fastest in one-day internationals—turned a contest into a spectacle and a run chase into a procession.
A Storm Unleashed
The destruction began as a murmur and escalated into an unstoppable force. In a span of three overs, Pakistan’s score catapulted from nine to 55, an acceleration so outrageous that even a maiden over in between seemed like a statistical error. Fielders became spectators, spectators became worshippers, and bowlers were rendered helpless by a force beyond their control.
Afridi did not discriminate—good-length balls outside off stump were sent soaring into the upper tiers of the midwicket stand, fuller deliveries vanished into the ether, short balls were pulverized, and anything wide was mercilessly carved apart. It was neither slogging nor a calculated assault; it was pure, instinctive destruction, the kind that only a player of Afridi’s fearless temperament could execute.
Bowlers barely had time to process the assault before their figures lay in ruins. Lakshmipathy Balaji, Anil Kumble, and Dinesh Mongia all saw their first overs vanish for over 20 runs each. When Afridi swatted Zaheer Khan over midwicket in the eighth over, it marked his 200th six in ODIs—a number as staggering as the rate at which he had amassed them. A 20-ball fifty came first, and then, with an inevitability that seemed almost scripted, he surged to a 45-ball century, equaling Brian Lara’s record for the second-fastest ODI hundred.
If his legendary 102 off 37 balls in Nairobi back in 1997 had announced his arrival to the cricketing world, this knock served as a reminder—more than a decade later—that he remained an ungovernable force in the game, a disruptor of established conventions.
And then, just as abruptly as it had begun, the storm subsided. In a moment of sheer irony, Afridi’s first attempt at defence proved his undoing—the ball ricocheted off his boot onto the stumps, ending his innings at 102 off 46 deliveries. But by then, the damage had been done. He walked off leaving his team on the brink of victory, having singlehandedly reduced the required rate to a trivial afterthought. Shoaib Malik and the middle order merely had to complete the formalities.
Mohammad Kaif’s sensational diving catch to dismiss Yousuf Youhana was a moment of brilliance, but brilliance mattered little in the face of an Afridi hurricane. Pakistan's victory—by five wickets—was inevitable long before the final runs were scored.
Naved’s Opening Salvo: The Unheralded Spark
While Afridi’s innings will be immortalized in cricketing memory, Pakistan’s victory had been set in motion much earlier—by the incisive new-ball spell of Rana Naved-ul-Hasan. The deceptive swing and skiddy bounce that had eluded India’s bowlers in previous matches were harnessed to perfection by Naved, whose early breakthroughs left India reeling at 26 for 3.
Sachin Tendulkar, so often India’s anchor in times of crisis, was denied both width and length, suffocated by precise bowling until his patience snapped. Unsure whether to push forward or hang back, he hesitated for a fraction too long, edging a delivery that straightened just enough to Kamran Akmal behind the stumps.
Virender Sehwag, a batsman who thrives on the audacity of his stroke play, was undone by the very instinct that makes him dangerous. Expecting another outswinger, he played outside the line of a delivery that instead jagged back in, his off-stump flattened before he could react.
Then came Mahendra Singh Dhoni, whose natural aggression might have been an antidote to the situation. But his response was erratic—flashing at deliveries, connecting a few, missing others, and finally, edging a reckless drive to second slip. Three wickets down inside seven overs, the signs of collapse were all too familiar.
Dravid and Kaif: Resurrecting a Sinking Ship
Just as Pakistan had found a singular force of destruction in Afridi, India needed an anchor, a figure of stability. And, as he so often had throughout his career, Rahul Dravid answered the call.
The situation demanded resilience, and Dravid, ever the craftsman, constructed an innings of quiet defiance. Early on, it was all about survival—absorbing pressure, manoeuvring the field, stealing singles. Slowly, the gears shifted. Nudges turned into drives, gaps were exploited, and the run rate climbed in imperceptible increments. His innings was a masterclass in adaptability, a measured effort that transformed from stonewalling into controlled aggression as the innings progressed.
Alongside him, Kaif played the perfect foil. Where others had struggled against the vagaries of the pitch, he looked effortlessly at home—flicking with precision, bisecting the tightest of gaps, running with a restless energy that put the fielders under constant pressure. By the time he fell, he had stitched together a vital partnership with Dravid, one that ensured India reached a respectable, if not intimidating, 249.
Under normal circumstances, their 59-run acceleration in the final 7.2 overs would have been celebrated as a match-defining shift.
But Afridi ensured that such circumstances did not exist.
A Tale of Two Innings
The contrast between the two innings was stark. India’s batting was a tale of struggle, adaptation, and eventual consolidation—a narrative built on attrition and hard-earned runs. Pakistan’s, on the other hand, was an explosion, a blinding moment of brilliance that made all previous struggles irrelevant.
For 50 overs, India had fought and clawed their way to what seemed like a competitive total. And then, in a breathtaking hour of carnage, Afridi erased their work with strokes that defied both gravity and reason.
Cricket often finds itself caught between eras—between the purists who cherish patience and the revolutionaries who embrace power. On this day, in Kanpur, Afridi reminded the world that the game belongs to both. There is space for the craftsman and the destroyer, for the artist and the gladiator.
But when Afridi is in the mood, it is only the latter who matters.
Thank You
Faisal Caesar
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