It seems like yesterday. England 97 runs ahead after stumps at day 4 with 9 wickets in hand. On day 5, they made the most painful 70 runs ever in around 55 overs at the cost of 9 wickets. Australia played ODI cricket in rest time and chased it down with ease. Ricky deservedly was the Man of the Match.
I will never know what happened that night after day 4. It will always remain a mystery to me. Did England players sleep on the wrong side of the bed? Did God himself intervene and give divine powers to the Aussies? Did England players forget how to play cricket overnight? Was it written in the stars? Was it fate or destiny or was it one of those freaks of nature performances? Was it bad luck or was it years of hard work and mental grittiness of the Aussies? Whatever it was, it was a symbolic representation of everything Cricket stands for. That defeat was a recognition of how hard Aussies had worked hard to regain the Ashes after the debacle of 2005 and how much prepared they were this time.
I was 13 and was in grade 8 at that time. We didn’t have cable TV and the only source of England-Australia matches were news channels or the newspapers. After day 4, I was so sure that the game was gonna end in a draw that I didn’t bother to check the score for the whole day. Next day, I casually opened the newspaper and as usual, went to the sports section first thing. I will never forget the sinking feeling when I saw the title, “Warne-Ponting magic steal an impossible Ashes test win”. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I thought that the paper guys made a mistake. They don’t know what they are talking about. So, I took some of my savings, went to the market and bought a few other newspapers. I was so sure that they were going to show a different scoreboard. The one, in which the test ended in a draw. The innocence of 13 year-olds. Ah! it still hurts as if it happened yesterday.
Well. All the newspapers, both in Hindi and English told the same story with different words and fonts. Everyone at my home was normal. None I knew really cared about Ashes or England. I had to grieve alone. I went to school, kept thinking about it. Whole day. Then the whole week and whole month. It was hard to move on. It is like they say, “The toughest lessons of life are always learned in your formative years.” I have sobbed in anger, in pain, and in frustration thinking about that defeat. I made a few pacts to myself later. I promised myself that day that I will never be England. I will always love them, but I will never be them. I couldn’t ever bring myself to love Aussies again. My relationship with them was over on that very day.
That defeat had a constant and ever-lasting impression on me and I was never the same person after that. I started working harder and harder since that day. I was already rank one in studies in my class, but after Adelaide 2006, I made the second rank guy a far distant second. I stopped taking anything for granted and almost become paranoid. I became extra cautious and started to be over-prepared all the time. Adelaide 2006 made me who I am and who I want to be. That defeat transformed my inner self. I had never felt so much sympathy and love for anything like I did for England that day. I questioned everything since then. The defeat happened on December 5, 2006. Freddie’s birthday (my favorite cricketer growing up) was the next day. I felt for him. After all, he was the captain of that England side that summer. I wish I could have shared his pain.
I hated the Aussies while maintaining a deep respect for the way they went about their business. I wanted to be like them while being an English cricket lover in the heart. I vividly remember my diary entry from that night. I was crying and I had depicted my pain in words like,
“Dear Nicole Kidman and Nobel Prizes in Physics, Chemistry, and Medicine
I dare you to alleviate this perpetual pain I find myself into. Just so you all know, that you are not a panacea. You can’t fix this. A part within me just died with England losing at the magical Adelaide today. That part will forever stay dead. Nothing and absolutely nothing will ever be enough to erase the memories of today. If a man were dying today and asking for my help and I happen to be there, my first question to him will be, “Hey mate! Show me your passport.” If it happens to be an Australian, I would call for help and wouldn’t help him myself. I know that is ridiculous as humanity is the biggest religion of us all, but I don’t care about that right now.
I feel so much loathing for the entire nation today. I know that it is childish and England themselves are to blame for this, but I can’t help myself. God, please help me and ease my pain. Please, never again I want to go through something like this. Please God, comfort me.”
Note: My favorite actress growing up was Nicole Kidman (who happens to be an Australian) and my only dream in life has always been to win a Nobel prize in either of Physics, Chemistry or Medicine (besides making the fastest hundred on debut against Australia in Australia of course).
Every time something good happens in my life or I feel like I am getting ahead of myself, I watch that scorecard of Adelaide 2006 and it brings me back to earth. It is a mirror of the brutal and cold truth that in sports, anything can happen. You just never know what will you get once you cross that white line. The pitch, the bat and the ball can and will betray you. The moment you start taking things for granted, it will hit you back hard.
I have read autobiographies of almost half of the players from both England and Australia involved in that match. Everyone said different things. Warne, Ponting, KP, Lee, McGrath, Hayden, Flintoff, Clarke: All had their own versions of that day. I am still not satisfied. The mystery in my head endures. How can England lose the unlosable? Ian Chappell said after that defeat, “The difference was in the mind.” I was thinking like, “What if the Aussies are fundamentally superior to English? What if every woman on earth choose them over the English? What if England never beat Australia ever again? What if every test match turns out to be Adelaide?” So many bad things. Such a little life.
I have spent countless nights thinking about that defeat. It still hurts and haunts me. The wounds have just gone deeper in skin now. That defeat is a constant reminder of why sports is so pure and why victory in any sports is always morally appropriate. I still haven’t forgiven Australia for that day. I hate them, and yet I can’t stop thinking about them. It is weird. Someday, I may let it go. But, one thing is for sure that I will never forget the sinking feeling in my stomach when I saw the newspaper headline that day. It was as if I had seen a ghost.
If I ever meet any of the England players from that match, I have only one question to ask, “What happened?"
I have celebrated every year of December 1 - 5 as a tribute to that magical match. I barely watch any cricket during that week. It is a no-cricket week for me. It is perfect. I still remember taking ice-bath in the chilling winter in Kanpur during midnight on the 10th anniversary of that match. Cricket has always been like a baby to me and it has taught me everything I know. Both about life and about numbers. Adelaide 2006 is a perfect representation of it.
I still remember at one stage Australia needed 43 off 67 balls with Freddie bowling 5 dots in a row to Clarke. The last ball of the over was clipped towards midwicket. Clarke ran three and then Pietersen overthrow costing additional four. Seven runs in one ball! That look of exasperation on Flintoff's face was not of disappointment, but of sadness. I just wish I was there stopping that boundary. It is like the title of this article shows, "You may smile at a six, but you will cry at a seven."
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