"Yes, I was determined to try and chase the target. It was not a difficult wicket to bat on" -- that was man of the series Virender Sehwag, speaking at the presentation ceremony that closed out the three-Test series.
Sorry, Viru -- unfortunately, you were the only one who thought targets were to be chased.
Consider this: India 87 in the 23rd over, for no loss, cruising comfortably; Sehwag and Gambhir in the midst of a calculated assault on Pakistan's main bowler Danish Kaneria -- and then Sehwag unfortunately run out owing to a bad call and a late change of mind from his partner.
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There is more -- Rahul Dravid (who earlier in this series lifted his average to second highest among Test batsman after Don Bradman), Sachin Tendulkar (who in this innings became the highest run-getter for India in Tests), V V S Laxman (the very very special batsman who worked magic against spin and pace alike in Kolkata against the Aussies) and Sourav Ganguly, the team's captain -- between them managed 39 runs, off 205 deliveries.
This, on a wicket on which, never mind Sehwag, Anil Kumble managed a comfortable 37 off 52 deliveries. And that tells you where India lost this game.
If you are looking for turning points, this was it -- the decision to down shutters the moment Sehwag was gone, the decision to push and prod at every ball with a draw in mind, irrespective of the merit of the delivery itself, caused India's downfall.
And that decision is stunning, when you consider what it really implies -- that the Indian team with its famed middle order has no self confidence, no self belief, and now relies on Sehwag to do everything for them.
Every single wicket that fell, other than Sehwag's run out and Gambhir's leg before wicket, was to a defensive shot -- a fact the Indians could ponder on, when they sit in the dressing room and wonder how they managed to lose a Test they could have won, at the outside, or drawn with a fair degree of comfort.
This line up, supposedly the best players of spin in the world, allowed Shahid Afridi an uninterrupted 7 over run of maidens; they allowed Afridi and even Arshad Khan to bowl with six, then seven (eight, if you count the wicketkeeper) around the bat. With that kind of field, even mishits were guaranteed to be safe; there was a four to be had each time you pushed past the close cordon (ask Kumble).
And yet batsman after famed batsman stood there, petrified, pushing, prodding -- for all the world as if this pitch was a minefield, and the Pak bowlers were saying it with hand grenades.
There was one moment in play that summed it all up for me. Afridi, around the wicket in the 56th over, bowled a delivery pitching about 2 feet outside leg, and a touch short. The batsman lunged forward, to a ball the length of which called for back foot play - the ball turned sharply in, beat the bat and hit the stumps.
Ganguly, the batsman in question, refused to move. He stood there, after Simon Taufel twice indicated he was out - apparently, the Indian skipper thought the keeper had taken the stumps off, or the ball had rebounded from the keeper; anything, in fact, but that he had made a fatal error of judgment.
Make no mistake, the ball was good - it turned in a good two feet from outside the left hander's off stump. But it was short of good length, a front foot prod was fraught with the risk of pushing into the close cordon's hand, or, as actually happened, got bowled.
Ganguly stood there, feet frozen, mind frozen, like a deer caught in the headlamps - a perfect analogy to sum up the day's play.
What a send off for John Wright, the coach who taught this team to fight, to perform as a unit, to believe in itself - in his last assignment as Test coach, he gets to witness a performance that takes you right back to how this team used to play before he took over.
The wheel, it seems, has come full circle.
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