A Maiden View: In Praise of Ravindra Jadeja

Ravindra Jadeja bowled a patient spell to script a famous win for India

In foggy air on the final day of the final Test of the Freedom Trophy, as South Africa built, beautifully but firmly their defense, and as the Indian bowlers struggled to understand the Proteas' mind-play (which they eventually did, having engineered a crash later on in the play), Ravindra Jadeja bowled a careful spell, ball after ball of which was aimed to trap the South Africans in their own battle of will.

Disciplined bowling from Jadeja

In the process of this battle, Jadeja made away with an astounding 17 maidens. A wicked spell, even considering the South African resistance. Some flight, some more extra bounce, decent length, fine turn and Jadeja's blue shades-covered eyes hit the mark at 111 and du Plessis had to go.

Jadeja had already claimed Amla with a delivery that tore through the right-hand master's defense, ending his slowly constructed innings. And now he bore into du Plessis' pads. Jadeja couldn't trick more batsmen, but he had already done his job, and well.

His 17 consecutive maidens – Horace Hazell, meanwhile, rolled in his grave – however, told the story of the day. The Proteas, of course, marched out to surprise, though their strategy for the time being didn't work, having lost Elgar early.

But their resistance continued – every ball bowled was met with a defensive stroke; every turn of the ball, every toss in the air met with the same amount of passionate and mechanical impedance that had surprised the bowlers on the fourth day.

It was exceptional to watch this cricket, because it had been lost, even in the Test format. De Villiers, a hitter of the ball, proved that he could construct a slow, calculated innings as well – though that's probably unfair because a de Villiers' innings is always calculated.

The block continued as balls piled up while the runs absolutely didn't. In this heady mixture of frustration and wonder, I think, many a viewers found themselves comparing the Jadeja attack to the one that had astounded cricket-watchers more than fifty years ago.

Bapu Nadkarni: The man who gave nothing away

January 12, 1964, was an eventful day. It was the start of England's tour of India, being played in Madras. India batted first and put up a score of 457, losing 7 wickets. Two of England's players were down with infections by the end of the second day, with England at 63 for 2, courtesy Vasant Ranjane and Chandu Borde.

The third day saw England beginning with their blockathon, in which they added 86 runs with one wicket down; and then 27 in another two critical hours of defensive engagement. With lunch done, a legend was about to revealed: India's captain, Tiger Pataudi, called in Bapu Nadkarni to bowl.

Nadkarni was in his eighth year playing for India, and he had already established his bowling prowess by being unrelenting towards the batsmen while also being a notorious experimenter.

He batted well, too, but what he was about to do on that day in Madras had nothing to do with a bat. In fact, it had everything to do with a bat, but Nadkarni wasn't the one holding it – he was turning the ball this way and that, lofting it low and high, pitching it safe, trying to make the batsman hit and fault.

But the batsmen – Brian Bolus and Ken Barrington – did not budge, flicking the ball to the fielders, playing defensively where a lofted shot would have done wonders.

It was a slow game, and the runs were thin, but the balls went cutting the air thick and fast. By the time any batsman scored off Nadkarni's ball, it had been almost 22 overs with one ball to go. And when Barrington did score a single off Nadkarni, the latter was rested.

The laziness of the entire thing was, in fact, never laziness at all. Of course, the only action that really felt as if it was somebody playing was that of the bowler, who came in from the other end pressured by the whole experience of having to see his masterpiece thump upon the wood of that bat all for nothing – but here he came, the only moving figure in the entire field.

But it wasn't laziness because it was skill, and the skill wasn't limited to just the batsman or the bowler or the fielder. The skill also included the patience of the spectator, who needed to sit through those laboriously constructed innings and patiently and yet passionately bowled balls, all trying to engage the batsmen in a game of abandonment.

Rebirth of Test cricket?

So was the case on the fifth day of the fourth Test between India and South Africa. It was rather different in that this campaign of organised defense engineered by the South Africans came in the year 2015, an age where T20 format thrives if not dominates.

Quick and fast life is never compromised for a game of Test, let alone where hit and stay inside the crease is the order of the day. So when a bowler like Jadeja bowls a spell of 17 consecutive maidens, accompanied by a classic 43 off 297 balls by one of the best batsmen in World cricket today; an hour for one run.

And 143 runs – a labor of love, really – in as many overs, we know that what we had was not a boring match, but a classic encounter set to chart history. What we witnessed, then, was cricketing history, a tale of strategic defense, a tale of some real, spell-binding cricket – and after a long, long time.