He’s not without his lives. Sarfaraz lives on the edge – quite literally, as some balls go off it while others just beat it.
The West Indians have been pitching it short at anyone holding a bat, but there seems to be a special brand of venom reserved for Sarfaraz. Nothing too serious, just a few boys caught up in the biggest game of their lives that could decide their entire future for them. A nondescript encounter.
Their attrition, perversely, seems to energise him further. Seamers – Ryan John, Shamar Springer, Alzarri Joseph – and not spinners are charged down the track, for heaven’s sake.
The weak are victims of this attrition. Washington Sundar goes in the 15th over, a poor shot, with just 7 runs off 40 balls. The strong are not. Sarfaraz Khan is practically carved from a block of solid marble – watching in frustration as Sundar was tied down to the point where he couldn’t rotate the strike.
But Sarfaraz runs ones and twos. Nudges the innings at regular intervals. Kicks it along. Takes it away from the West Indies. And bit by bit, his patience, his persistence and his own attrition drags India into the optimal position for a late onslaught.
Self-belief is a slippery conviction. It is an incredible feeling when achieved, but also cruelly fragile, prone to disappearing in a flash.
Confidence in your own abilities is not just making the big hits, playing the expansive drives. It is also about backing yourself to scrap and fight when the team needs it. Confidence is as much about courage as it is about belief – a solemn determination to do what it takes.
And Sarfaraz has every intention to perform that late evisceration himself. To leave it to someone else would be a sign of weakness. Of bottling when the pressure is back on you.
Rahul Dravid is watching on the sidelines. He would be proud of this display. Perhaps he notices something of himself in Sarfaraz’s innings.
Not that Sarfaraz lets anybody forget he’s the best player out there. In the 21st over, a bad full toss is disdainfully swiped for four. Halfway through the 35th over, Sarfaraz also lifts John into the stands for the first six of the game.
A powerful, self-assured hit that he knows will reach the fence the moment he connects with it. His body is slightly closed, but there is not a scintilla of doubt in his movement.
*
It has taken some time, but at last, the fifty arrives. And it arrives quite modestly. The look on his face, though, is anything but.
The look is determined. He didn’t so much expect to get to fifty as much as assume it. His mouth is slightly open. It seems he’s heaving. Sarfaraz clenches his fist and shakes it in triumph.
His steely glare seems to say, “Calm down. The job is only half done.” This is his seventh score of fifty-plus in Under-19 World Cups. More than anyone else in the history of this tournament.
And then he goes.
He goes one ball into the 39th over, with the score reading 120-7. Trapped leg before. A wild slog to hurry along the scoreboard in desperate times.He gets a pat on the shoulder as he walks away.
He departs for 51 off 89, his side’s top scorer by miles.His face bears a look of longing. Should have done more. Should. Have. Done. More.
Then he crosses the boundary rope, and he is gone.
The job remains half done.
*
India have lost this game. They have lost this final after cruising for the duration of the tournament. They are, individually and collectively, job half-done guys. It will disappoint them. It will disappoint Rahul Dravid. It will disappoint fans.
But will it disappoint Sarfaraz for long, if at all? Our man does not, after all, want for self-confidence. He may be pudgy and ungainly, but he was the most majestic bachelor this Valentine’s Day. Why is it suddenly so hot in here?
Oh, right. The Summer of Sarfaraz has started early this year.
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