From Giants to Ghosts
The early 1970s heralded a golden era in Indian cricket.
After decades of one-sided defeats abroad, India had suddenly found a winning
formula. With an artful spin quartet and a generation of resilient, classy
batsmen, they conquered the unthinkable — winning overseas series in New
Zealand (1968), and famously toppling West Indies and England in their own
backyards in 1971. India had gone from cricketing underdogs to credible
world-beaters.
But by the summer of 1974, all of that came crashing down.
Prelude to a
Catastrophe
India arrived in England in 1974 under Ajit Wadekar’s
captaincy, brimming with confidence. They had every reason to believe they were
one of the strongest teams in world cricket. Their recent track record backed
it: victories abroad, an unbeaten streak, and a deep, battle-hardened core.
The first Test at Old Trafford, played on a damp, green
pitch, ended in a 113-run defeat. Yet, there were reasons for optimism. Sunil
Gavaskar’s long-awaited century and Syed Abid Ali’s all-round effort hinted
that India wasn’t entirely outclassed. It was an attritional loss, but not a
collapse.
Lord’s: From Hope to
Horror
The second Test at Lord’s began like a grand English
summer's day — deceptively bright. England, under Mike Denness, opted to bat
and made hay while the sun shone. Dennis Amiss and debutant David Lloyd laid a
robust foundation. Though Lloyd departed early, Amiss and John Edrich plundered
runs with minimal resistance. At stumps on Day One, England sat imperiously at
334 for 1. India, it seemed, had been batted out of the contest in a single
day.
Despite some mid-innings strikes by Bishan Bedi and EAS
Prasanna, England’s middle-order piled on the pain. Denness and Tony Greig
added a punishing 202-run partnership, as the hosts eventually posted a mammoth
629. The absence of Bhagwat Chandrasekhar — injured and limited to just 9.3
overs — severely dented India's bowling resources. Bedi (6 for 226) and
Prasanna (2 for 166) bore the brunt of the toil.
India’s First
Innings: Promise Dissolves into Panic
Facing a mountain, Gavaskar and Farokh Engineer offered
initial resistance. They ended Day Two at 51 without loss and began Day Three
with rare aggression. By lunch, they had 131 on the board, with Engineer
playing fluently for 86.
Yet, what followed was inexplicable. India, from a strong
183 for 2, imploded to 302 all out. Reckless strokes replaced measured
judgment. As cricket writer John Woodcock observed, “There was something
reckless about the way several got out. I am all for adventure, but that has to
be tempered by judgment.”
The innings, instead of being a fightback, became a
forewarning. Old’s 4 for 67 and Hendrick’s 3 for 46 ensured India fell well
short of avoiding the follow-on. A 327-run lead was enough for England to
enforce it.
The Morning That
Changed Everything
Day Four dawned overcast and humid — the stage set for a
tragedy. The pitch, sweating under covers overnight, turned deceptive. Geoff
Arnold, who had only been included after Bob Willis withdrew, exploited the
conditions with surgical precision.
His first two balls to Engineer curved away teasingly. The
third darted in and struck him on the pad. Out for 0. Gavaskar would later
question the decision, suspecting a faint edge. But there was no reprieve.
What followed defied logic, belief, and even memory.
Wadekar, Viswanath, and Patel all fell within minutes.
Solkar was greeted by a bouncer barrage, hooking one for six before asking
Gavaskar to "stay and help save the game." But even Gavaskar’s stoic
resistance lasted just 49 minutes. Once he was bowled by Arnold, the collapse
became total.
India were 25 for 5. The radio broadcast stunned listeners
back home. One journalist, awakening from a nap, thought the score must be a
mistake.
By 12:39 PM, India had been dismissed for 42 in 77 minutes —
their lowest total in Test history. Arnold’s 4 for 19 and Old’s 5 for 21
delivered the knockout punch. Solkar, with a defiant 18 not out, was the only
semblance of resistance.
Aftermath: Fallout
Beyond the Field
The Test ended so abruptly that spectators protested. MCC
officials dismissed calls for an exhibition match, calling it “anticlimactic.”
But the real aftershocks were felt elsewhere.
A planned dinner at
the High Commission ended in diplomatic embarrassment as the Indian team was
turned away. Young batsman Sudhir Naik was falsely accused of shoplifting,
adding to the humiliation.
The third Test at Edgbaston brought no relief: India were
again steamrolled by an innings.
Wadekar was dismissed from captaincy and never played Test
cricket again.
The “Victory Bat” erected in Indore after the 1971 triumphs
was defaced in rage.
Legacy of the
Collapse
The phrase "Summer of 42" would enter Indian
cricket folklore not as a moment of romance — as the film of the same name
might suggest — but as a chilling metaphor for an unspeakable fall.
Even seasoned observers were stunned. Mihir Bose compared
the collapse unfavourably to the horrors of the 1952 Fred Trueman era. Wisden
was scathing, calling India’s batting “too weak and brittle to be able to hold
its own at international level.”
It would take years for Indian cricket to emotionally
recover. The dream run of the early ’70s had ended not with a whimper, but with
a statistical and psychological collapse of epic proportions.
A Lesson Etched in
Dust
The Summer of 1974 is not merely about numbers — 42 runs, 17
overs, 77 minutes. It is about the brutal vulnerability of sport. How
invincibility is fleeting. How history is cyclical. And how one morning’s swing
and seam can sweep away years of glory.
India’s 1971 heroes had climbed the summit. But at Lord’s in
1974, they looked into the abyss.
Thank You
Faisal Caesar
