You might have sworn you felt some brewing, but to pour over like that so quickly no one quite anticipated it. One wicket, only half a dozen balls and the sound within the ground was different, Punjab Kings was in permanent control.
And it did not start as a hurricane. Punjab Kings began from his position with timidity, a dotted or two, a couple of false, but nothing alarming, nor fluent in any way. It was as though they were still struggling to find rhythm, as seen through the press box. Then, nearly in silence, a partnership commenced to establish itself. The batters began edging in ones, twos and before long the limits were pursued. No hitting, no, no hitting. The field swift, the time sharp. You might have heard the change–the crowd straining with each connection.
Lucknow Super Giants had become a bit out of form by the time the innings had reached the middle overs. The fielders were moved about and the captain looked around, and could nearly have sworn he was seeking an opening which was not forthcoming. The alliance had expanded, and even better, had started to dictate. Length balls disappeared. Even those good deliveries were being worked out. It was no chaos yet–but it was coming.
Then was that over. Aiden Markram threw the ball, which may have been thought to merely pass through quietly, possibly wring a wicket. Rather, the initial strike easily cleared the ropes. A clean swing. The second—bigger. In the third, you might notice the shoulders falling a little. The field was expanded, but that was not important. Another six. And another. The bench behind Markram moved very little, and hung motionless. There were six balls and the damage was caused. A massive over. The type that does not merely add on to a run–it alters belief.
It was as though it were natural going on. Punjab had no hurry; they had no need of it. The same two continued on, sucking holes, chastising anything wayward. The time-piece ticked, then ran. The bowlers of Lucknow experimented with it–slower balls, broader lines–but nothing much stuck. Even where opportunities seemed sixpence coloured, they did not break through. The total that Punjab had recorded by the end of the innings was hefty. Not impossible, but the sort that nudges at you even before you commence pursuing.
The pursuit never settled down. Lucknow Super Giants were in need of a good start and, as ever, they were playing almost at once a game of catch-up. A limit here, a point there–it was not flowing. The batters would look at the scoreboard more than they would prefer. Required rate creeping. Then climbing. The strange long take caused a momentary disturbance, but it did not last. Between balls, a word or two, mid-pitch, quiet, little indications that the pressure had set in.
When two batters attempted to counterattack, it was already too far a stretch. Bowlers in Punjab did not require magic, they only remained disciplined. Fielders was on their side. The energy remained elevated. And gradually, nearly inevitably, the pursuit died out. Not like a fall, but like the inevitability.
What that over changed?
It all came down to that one play, you see. Prior to the over of Markram, Lucknow were in it–poking, readjusting, alive as ever. Behind it they were in pursuit of shadows. The field placements were on the defensive, the bowlers on the reactive. Punjab, however, became an inch taller each time he was struck.
T20 normally offers mayhem, yet this was more acute. A reminder that the momentum is not necessarily slow–it may come in a flash and not be willing to go. Punjab took it in those six balls, and constructed upon it with the calm authority, and never relinquished it.
And as the players left you had almost time to re-hear that. The beat, the noise, the silence that followed. Sometimes, that’s all it takes.