The floodlights at the Chinnaswamy Stadium bathed the emerald turf in artificial daylight. The air had cooled slightly, but the atmosphere remained feverish. 399 to win. It was a target that demanded a miracle, but on this ground, miracles had a habit of happening.
Andrew Strauss and Kevin Pietersen walked out to the middle. They looked determined, their jaws set. They knew they had to go hard from ball one.
---
Zaheer Khan took the new ball. Sidanth Deva, fresh from his batting heroics, was given the other end.
Over 2
Deva steamed in. His rhythm was fluid, despite the 135 runs he had accumulated earlier.
1.3: Deva to Pietersen. Short and wide.
KP slapped it through point. FOUR.
Commentary (Nasser Hussain): "That's the way KP plays. He won't die wondering. If the ball is there, it goes to the fence."
Over 5
England was racing along at 7 runs an over.
4.4: Zaheer to Strauss. Full, on the pads.
Strauss flicked it beautifully through mid-wicket. FOUR.
4.5: Zaheer corrects his line outside off.
Strauss drives on the up. FOUR.
The score was 68/0. England was flying. The crowd was getting restless.
Zaheer Khan, the old wily fox, decided to change the angle. He went round the wicket to Pietersen.
9.3: Zaheer ran in. He angled the ball in, but held it back slightly. A knuckleball.
Pietersen, expecting the pace, was through his shot too early. He tried to whip it across the line.
The ball dipped and thudded into his front pad.
"HOWZAT!" Zaheer roared, pleading with the umpire.
Billy Bowden raised the crooked finger.
WICKET: Kevin Pietersen lbw b Zaheer 31 (22)
England: 68/1
Commentary (Ravi Shastri):
"Zaheer Khan delivers! The knuckler does the trick! Pietersen was looking dangerous, but Zak's experience prevails. India gets the opening it desperately needed."
---
Jonathan Trott walked in. He was the anchor, the man who stabilized innings.
But today, the required rate was already creeping up to 8.
Piyush Chawla was brought into the attack in the 14th over.
Over 16
15.4: Chawla bowled a googly. It pitched on middle and spun away slightly.
Trott tried to play it to the on-side against the turn.
The leading edge flew straight back to Chawla, who took a sharp low catch.
WICKET: Jonathan Trott c & b Chawla 16 (19)
England: 95/2
Commentary (David Lloyd):
"Soft dismissal. Trott will be fuming. He didn't pick the googly. Chawla justifies his selection immediately."
---
Ian Bell walked out at 95/2. The game hung in the balance. If India got one more quickly, it was over. But Strauss and Bell had other ideas.
They didn't panic. They launched a counter-attack that silenced the Bengaluru crowd for the next hour.
Over 25
Harbhajan Singh was bowling.
24.2: Bell stepped out and lofted Bhajji inside-out over extra cover. SIX.
24.4: Bell swept hard behind square. FOUR.
Over 30
Andrew Strauss was playing the innings of his life. He swept the spinners, he pulled the pacers.
29.3: Munaf Patel to Strauss. Short.
Strauss hooked it over fine leg. SIX.
---
In the 34th over, Strauss tapped a single to long-on.
He took off his helmet and raised his bat.
Century for Andrew Strauss off 95 balls.
It was a captain's knock, gritty and classy.
Commentary (Nasser Hussain):
"A magnificent hundred from the captain! Under immense pressure, chasing 399, Andrew Strauss has stood tall. He is keeping England in this hunt. The partnership is now over 100 runs. India needs to be careful here."
---
The mood in the corporate box had shifted from jubilant to tense. The scoreboard read England 215/2 in 35 overs. They needed 172 from 15 overs. Difficult, but with Strauss set and Bell on 60, not impossible.
Vikram Deva was pacing the small room. He refused to look at the screen when Bell hit a four.
"Why aren't they getting them out?" Vikram muttered, wiping his glasses. "399 is a big score, but they are scoring so easily."
Sesikala was clutching her prayer beads tighter. "Is Sidanth going to bowl again?"
"He has to, Aunty," Arjun said, though his voice lacked the earlier bravado. "Dhoni is saving him and Zak for the death overs. But they need to break this partnership now."
Feroz slammed his hand on the armrest. "Bell is hitting everything! Look at that cover drive. This is getting too close."
---
Over 36:
MS Dhoni sensed the drift. The game was slipping away. The Bell-Strauss partnership was now worth 120 runs.
He tossed the ball to Sidanth Deva.
"We need a wicket, Deva," Dhoni said, walking past him. "Strauss is reading the length well. Do something different."
Deva nodded. He adjusted his field. He brought mid-off up. He pushed mid-wicket back.
35.1: Deva to Bell. 142 kmph. Yorker outside off.
Bell squeezed it for a single.
35.2: Deva to Strauss.
Strauss was on 110. He was seeing the ball like a football.
Deva ran in. He didn't look like he was changing anything. Same run-up, same arm speed.
But as he released the ball, he didn't snap his wrist. He rolled his fingers under the ball.
It was a Slow Yorker.
Strauss saw the ball coming towards his feet. He expected pace. He brought his bat down fast.
But the ball arrived a fraction of a second later than he anticipated.
The bat came down too early. The ball dipped under the blade and crashed into his boot, right in front of middle stump.
"HOWZAT!" Deva turned and screamed, veins popping in his neck.
The umpire didn't even hesitate. Up went the finger.
WICKET: Andrew Strauss lbw b Deva 115 (102 balls)
England: 220/3
Commentary (Ravi Shastri):
"HE'S GONE! The partnership is broken! And it's Deva again! The man with the golden touch! It was the change of pace that did it. A dipping slow yorker, completely foxing the English captain. A brilliant innings from Strauss comes to an end, but is this the opening door India needed?"
---
"YES!" Vikram Deva shouted, jumping out of his seat. It was uncharacteristic, but the relief was overwhelming.
Sesikala closed her eyes and whispered, "Thank you, God."
Arjun and Feroz were high-fiving.
---
Paul Collingwood came in, but the momentum had shifted. The required rate was climbing. It was now over 12 runs an over.
Ian Bell, however, wasn't done. He was on 75.
Over 40:
39.3: Munaf Patel to Bell. Short ball.
Bell pulled it over mid-wicket. FOUR.
39.4: Bell stepped out and lofted it over extra cover. FOUR.
He moved into the 80s.
Commentary (David Lloyd):
"Ian Bell is playing a lone hand now. He needs support. 399 is a long way away, but if Bell stays till the end, who knows?"
Over 42
Munaf Patel, the unsung hero of the bowling attack, kept it simple. Line and length.
41.5: Munaf to Bell. Off-cutter.
Bell tried to heave it over long-on. He was tired. The timing wasn't there.
The ball went high, swirling in the night sky.
Virat Kohli, at long-on, settled under it. He never drops those.
Catch taken.
WICKET: Ian Bell c Kohli b Munaf 88 (81 balls)
England: 265/4
Commentary (Sunil Gavaskar):
"That should be the final nail. Ian Bell goes for a gallant 88. England fought hard, but the target was just too big. Now, it's about the margin of victory."
---
With the main batsmen gone, the English lower order crumbled under the pressure of the score and the crowd.
MS Dhoni brought Deva back to finish the game in the 46th over.
Over 46:
45.3: Deva to Matt Prior.
Prior tried to scoop. Deva bowled a fast, straight yorker.
CLATTER.
The middle stump was uprooted.
WICKET: Matt Prior b Deva 12 (10)
45.4: Michael Yardy walked in.
Deva ran in, tail up. A bouncer, directed right at the badge.
Yardy fended it off awkwardly. The ball popped up to short leg, where Yusuf Pathan took an easy dolly.
WICKET: Michael Yardy c Pathan b Deva 0 (1)
45.5: Tim Bresnan faced the hat-trick ball.
The crowd was going berserk. Flashbulbs were popping everywhere.
Deva ran in. He bowled a perfect length ball outside off.
Bresnan defended solidly. No hat-trick.
But the damage was done.
Commentary (Ian Bishop):
"He is on fire! Two wickets in two balls! Prior and Yardy had no answers. Sidanth Deva is cleaning up the tail. He has 3 wickets now to go with his century. Is there anything this young man cannot do today?"
Over 49:
The score was 320/9. England had dragged it this far, thanks to some late hitting by Bresnan and Swann. But it was delayed inevitability.
Zaheer Khan had the ball for the penultimate over.
48.4: Zaheer to James Anderson.
Full, swinging in.
Anderson swung and missed.
The timber rattled.
WICKET: James Anderson b Zaheer 2 (5)
ENGLAND ALL OUT FOR 325.
INDIA WINS BY 73 RUNS.
Commentary (Ravi Shastri):
"India wins! A comprehensive victory in Bengaluru! They were tested, they were pushed by Strauss and Bell, but 398 was always going to be too many. India wins by 73 runs and they stay unbeaten in this World Cup! But the story of the day—the story of the tournament so far—is undoubtedly Sidanth Deva."
Vikram Deva collapsed into his chair, emotionally drained.
Sesikala was wiping tears, smiling as she saw her son on the giant screen, hugging Sachin Tendulkar.
Arjun, Feroz, and Sameer were hugging Vikram.
"We won, Uncle! We won!" Arjun screamed.
Vikram looked at them, his voice trembling. "He played well, didn't he? He really played well."
"He was the Devil, Uncle," Feroz said softly. "He was the Devil."
---
Ravi Shastri stood with the microphone.
"A fantastic game of cricket," Shastri said. "Over 700 runs scored in the day. But there is only one contender for the Man of the Match."
"For his blistering 135 runs off 82 balls, and bowling figures of 3 for 55... The Man of the Match is Sidanth Deva!"
The roar was deafening as Deva walked up. He looked tired but happy. He accepted the trophy and the cheque.
Shastri: "Sidanth, what a day. A century and three wickets. Did you eat something special for breakfast?"
Deva: (Laughs) "Just the usual, Ravi bhai. But honestly, the wicket was amazing. Batting with Sachin paaji made it easy. He kept telling me to stay calm."
Shastri: "That wicket of Strauss. The slower yorker. Was that planned?"
Deva: "Yes. Mahi bhai told me he was reading the pace. So I had to deceive him. Glad it came off. He was batting brilliantly."
Shastri: "Your parents are here today. Anything you want to say to them?"
Deva looked at the camera. His smile softened.
"Amma, Nanna... I hope you enjoyed the match. This is for you."
He raised the trophy. The camera cut to the VIP box, showing Vikram and Sesikala waving back, their faces glowing with a pride that outshone the stadium floodlights.
India had marched on. And they had found their new gladiator.
---
The dressing room was a swamp of discarded pads, empty water bottles, and the thick, humid scent of victory. Gary Kirsten had just finished his debrief—short, sharp, and full of praise for the resilience shown in the field. MS Dhoni had added his usual calm postscript: "Enjoy the win, but recover well. We travel tomorrow."
As the players began to disperse—some to the ice baths, others to the buffet—Deva grabbed his Man of the Match trophy. It was heavy, a golden stump mounted on a crystal base. He threw a fresh team training jacket over his sweat-soaked jersey, wiped his face with a towel, and looked at Virat.
"Going to the box?" Virat asked, adjusting his cap.
"Yeah. Amma and Nanna are waiting," Deva said, a different kind of nervousness fluttering in his stomach. Facing Anderson was one thing; facing his mother after she'd watched him nearly get hit by a bouncer was another.
"Let's go. My brother is there too," Virat said.
They walked out of the dressing room, flanked by two security officers. The corridors of the Chinnaswamy Stadium were buzzing. VVIPs, association members, and staff stopped to clap as they walked past. Deva nodded, smiled, but kept moving. He took the elevator up to the Corporate Level.
The glass doors to the Corporate Box slid open, and a blast of conditioned air hit Deva's flushed face. The room was crowded. Wives, girlfriends, parents, and children of the Indian team were mingling.
Across the room, he saw them.
His father, Vikram, was standing near the glass pane, looking out at the now-empty stadium, as if trying to memorize the view. His mother, Sesikala, was sitting on a plush sofa, but the moment the door opened, her head snapped up.
"Siddu!" she cried out, ignoring the decorum of the VIP box.
Deva smiled, the fatigue instantly melting away. He walked over, and before he could say a word, she had enveloped him in a hug.
"You look so tired," she whispered, pulling back to cup his face. Her thumbs brushed away a smudge of dirt on his cheek. "And you are sweating so much. Did you drink enough water?"
"I drank enough, Amma," Deva laughed, holding her hands. "I'm fine. Just a long day."
He turned to his father. Vikram Deva turned from the window. He looked at his son—the boy who used to break windows in the colony, now the man who had just broken the English bowling attack.
Vikram caught Siddanth's shoulders. His grip was firmer than usual, shaking slightly with suppressed emotion.
"Well played, Siddu," Vikram said, his voice thick. "That shot over long-on... that was a good shot."
Coming from Vikram Deva, that was the equivalent of a knighthood.
"Thanks, Nanna," Deva said softly. He lifted the heavy trophy he was carrying in his left hand. "Here. This is for the showcase at home."
He handed the Man of the Match trophy to his father. Vikram took it with both hands, testing its weight. He ran a finger over the inscription: Sidanth Deva - 135 Runs & 3 Wickets. He looked at it like it was a holy relic.
"We will keep it safe," Vikram nodded, blinking rapidly behind his glasses.
---
"Oye, Mr. Hollywood!"
Deva turned to see the grinning faces of Arjun, Feroz, and Sameer. They didn't stand on ceremony. Feroz grabbed him in a headlock, ruffling his sweaty hair.
"Leave me alone, you idiots!" Deva laughed, wrestling free.
"135 runs!" Sameer shouted, slapping Deva on the back. "Do you know what the Twitter trend is? #DevaTheDestroyer. You are viral, bro."
Arjun, ever the manager, stepped in with a grin. "The phone hasn't stopped, Deva. My battery is dead. I have missed calls from three different car brands and a soft drink company. You just made us all rich."
Deva punched Arjun lightly on the shoulder. "Focus on the cricket, manager saab. We have a long way to go."
"How was it out there?" Feroz asked, his eyes wide. "When you hit Anderson... what did he say?"
"He didn't say much," Deva smirked. "He just looked tired."
The group burst into laughter. For a few minutes, Deva wasn't the superstar. He was just the fourth guy in their quartet, cracking jokes about the game.
---
Around them, the room was filled with similar scenes of joy.
A few feet away, Sachin Tendulkar was hugging his wife, Anjali. Deva saw Sachin point towards him and say something to Anjali, who smiled and waved at Deva's mother. Sesikala folded her hands in a respectful namaste, acknowledging her.
Yuvraj Singh walked in, loud and boisterous, hugging his mother, Shabnam. "Did you see that six, Mom? Boom!" he shouted, making everyone laugh.
MS Dhoni was in the corner, quiet as always, talking to his wife, Sakshi, and a few friends. He caught Deva's eye across the room and gave a subtle nod—a silent approval of the family time.
---
A BCCI official clapped his hands near the door. "Team bus in 10 minutes, gentlemen! We need to move."
The bubble had to burst. The schedule of a World Cup was relentless.
Deva turned back to his parents.
"I have to go," he said, the regret evident in his voice. "We have recovery sessions tonight."
"Go, go," his mother said, smoothing his jersey. "Sleep well. Don't stay up late on the phone."
"I won't."
He looked at his father, who was still holding the trophy.
"Nanna, are you coming to Nagpur for the South Africa match?"
Vikram looked up, his eyes shining. "We will. Arjun is arranging everything. But you focus on the ball. Don't worry about us."
"Okay."
Deva hugged his friends. "Take care of them, guys. Drop them at the hotel safely."
"Don't worry, superstar. We got this," Arjun said, giving him a thumbs up.
Deva took one last look at the group—his world compressed into one corner of a VIP box.
He turned and walked out the door, joining Kohli and Raina in the hallway.
"Good meet?" Raina asked, slinging his kit bag over his shoulder.
"The best," Deva replied, a satisfied smile on his face.
They walked out of the stadium, through the throng of screaming fans held back by barricades, and boarded the team bus. As the bus pulled out of the Chinnaswamy gates, Deva leaned his head against the window, watching the blur of Bangalore traffic. He was exhausted, his body ached, but his heart was full.
Two wins down. The journey had truly begun.
---
February 28, 2011
Monday mornings in India are usually defined by the groggy reluctance of the workweek. But this Monday was different. The collective hangover of the nation was not from alcohol, but from adrenaline.
From the bustling streets of Mumbai to the foggy lanes of Delhi, and down to the coastal roads of Chennai, the newspaper stands were running empty by 7:00 AM.
The Headlines
The Times of India: "THE BLUE BLITZKRIEG: INDIA CRUSHES ENGLAND BY 73 RUNS."
Sub-heading: Deva and Tendulkar conjure magic; 398 runs posted in Bengaluru.
Hindustan Times: "THE DEVIL OF CHINNASWAMY."
Focus: A full-page photo of Sidanth Deva pointing his bat to the sky, helmet in hand.
Dainik Jagran (Hindi): "DEVA KA KEHAR, ANGREZ BE-ASAR!" (Deva's Fury, English Ineffective!)
The Hindu: "Clinical India dismantle England; All-round Deva stars in high-scoring thriller."
---
The Irani Chai Shop near Charminar, Hyderabad
The epicenter of the Deva fandom. The shop was packed. Office goers stood with their bikes idling, ignoring the traffic police whistles, eyes glued to the replay of the match on the small CRT TV.
"Arey, I am telling you, that yorker to Strauss was magic," an elderly man, usually critical of modern cricket, argued while sipping his pouna. "In my time, only Wasim Akram bowled like that. To bowl 140 kmph and then suddenly drop it to 110 with the same action? That is art, bhai. Pure art."
"Uncle, forget the bowling," a young college student interrupted, his backpack hanging off one shoulder. "Did you see the six off Anderson? The one over long-on? Anderson looked like he wanted to retire right there! 135 runs! In a World Cup! He is not human."
"He is a Hyderabadi!" the tea seller shouted from behind the counter, pouring tea with a flourish. "That is why he has the fire! Biryani power!"
The crowd erupted in laughter and agreement. The skepticism about Deva replacing Gambhir had vanished. He was now 'Mana Bidda' (Our Son).
---
St. Stephen's College Canteen, Delhi
The intellectual hub was abuzz. Tables were joined together, laptops open, replaying highlights on YouTube (which was buffering heavily on 2011 internet speeds).
"The strike rate is the anomaly," a Statistics major pointed out, pointing at a spreadsheet. "Sehwag hits at 100-110. Deva is striking at 170. It's statistically unsustainable."
"It's not about stats, it's about psychology," his friend countered. "Did you see Strauss's face? When Deva walked in after Sehwag, they thought, 'Okay, now we breathe.' And then he hit the first ball for four. He breaks the bowler's will. It's psychological warfare."
"Do you think he's better than Yuvi?"
"Right now? He's better than everyone. He's playing EA Sports Cricket 07 in real life."
---
A School Playground in Mumbai
It was recess. A tennis ball match was in progress.
The bowler ran in. The batsman, a 12-year-old boy, shuffled absurdly across his stumps, exposing all three wickets.
"Oye! Stand properly!" the wicketkeeper yelled.
"No! I am doing the Deva!" the boy shouted back.
He tried to scoop the ball, missed, and got hit on the shin. He didn't cry. He just rubbed his leg and said, "Next ball, helicopter shot."
Sidanth Deva had successfully infiltrated the imagination of the next generation.
---
Star Sports Studios: "The Game Changer" Analysis
The scene shifted to the sleek studios of Star Sports. The graphics were flashy—blues and fiery oranges.
Host: Harsha Bhogle, wearing a sharp suit and an even sharper smile.
Analysts: Sunil Gavaskar (The Legend) and Wasim Akram (The Sultan of Swing).
Harsha Bhogle: "Welcome back. If you are just joining us, you might want to check your pulse, because what we witnessed in Bengaluru last night was not for the faint-hearted. India 398. England 325. Over 700 runs. But the story remains the young man who seems to have forgotten that World Cups are supposed to be pressure cookers."
Harsha turned to the screen. "Let's look at the numbers. Because sometimes, words aren't enough."
The Graphic: "The Impact Player - Tournament Stats (2 Matches)"
The giant screen lit up with a comparison table. The faces of the tournament's top performers appeared.
Player Matches Runs Balls Faced Strike Rate Wickets Best Fig
Sidanth Deva (IND) 2 237 121 195.86 5 3/55
Virender Sehwag (IND) 2 210 166 126.50 0 -
AB de Villiers (SA) 2 160 145 110.34 0 -
Shane Watson (AUS) 2 115 130 88.40 2 1/24
Shahid Afridi (PAK) 2 36 25 144.00 9 5/16
Harsha Bhogle: "Look at that top row. Sidanth Deva. 237 runs in two games. But look at the Strike Rate, Sunny. 195.86. In ODIs, a strike rate of 100 is considered excellent. This is nearly double."
Sunil Gavaskar: "It's unheard of, Harsha. We talk about Sehwag being destructive, and he is—look at his 126 strike rate, which is phenomenal. But Deva is operating in a different dimension. He is scoring a boundary every 3.5 balls. He isn't just scoring runs; he is buying time for everyone else. Because he scores so fast, Sachin could take his time for his century. Yuvraj and Dhoni had a platform to finish."
Harsha Bhogle: "Wasim, I want to bring you in on the bowling. 5 wickets in 2 matches. And look at the wicket of Strauss. That slow yorker."
Wasim Akram: "You know, Harsha, when I saw him bat, I thought, 'Okay, he is a batsman who rolls his arm over.' But that delivery to Strauss? That takes serious skill. To bowl a slower yorker under lights, with the dew, against a set batsman on 115? That requires confidence. He holds the ball deep in the palm, drops the wrist at the last second. It's a proper fast bowler's variation. He is a genuine all-rounder. India hasn't had a package like this since... well, maybe Kapil Paaji."
Harsha Bhogle: "High praise indeed. Let's look at another graphic. We call this 'The Deva Wheel'."
The screen changed to show a wagon wheel combining all his scoring shots from the Bangladesh and England games.
It was a kaleidoscope.
V-Region (Straight): 18%
Cover/Extra Cover: 22%
Square Leg/Mid-Wicket: 25%
Fine Leg/Scoop: 15%
Third Man/Reverse Sweep: 20%
Sunil Gavaskar: "This is the nightmare for captains. Where do you put the fielder? If you put him deep square, he hits over cover. If you put him at third man, he hits straight. He has democratized the ground. Every blade of grass is in danger."
Harsha Bhogle: "And let's not forget the context. He came in when Sachin was run out against Bangladesh. He came in when Sehwag fell early against England. He hasn't played 'easy' runs. He has played 'crisis' runs, but played them like he was at a picnic."
Wasim Akram: "The real test will be South Africa in Nagpur. Dale Steyn. Morne Morkel. That is real pace. The Chinnaswamy is a batting beauty. Nagpur might have bounce. Let's see if the kid can handle the Steyn Gun."
Harsha Bhogle: "That is the question. India plays Ireland and the Netherlands next, which—with all due respect—should be comfortable. But the date everyone is circling is March 12th vs South Africa. Can Deva dominate Steyn? That is the battle the world wants to see."
---
The segment ended with a high-energy montage of Deva's best shots set to the World Cup anthem "De Ghuma Ke."
The scoop off Rubel.
The punch off Anderson.
The slow yorker to Strauss.
And finally, the shot of him pointing his bat to the VIP box, his parents clapping in slow motion.
Harsha (Voiceover): "Two matches. Two Centuries. One Man of The Match. One billion hopes. The hype is over. The era of Deva has begun."