Resurrection

There was magic at the Kinrara Oval today. The rain gods might have prevailed but there was just one man that everybody bowed to.
There was the magic of old, which off late had started seeming almost fictional. On a wicket that had wicked intentions, against an attack that could have done much better, the Little Master got to work slowly and steadily. Some deliveries missed the edge, a few slashes almost went to glove but then when ur seeing the Taj Mahal you don’t talk about the graffiti on the marble. This innings was about redefining deft touch, rejoicing in the straight drive and resting assured that all was well with the MRF blade. The five sixes, three over covers and one each on either side of the wicket were vintage Sachin, a mix of Sharjah and Wanderers woven together. There was good batting at the other end but the art on display made everything else pale in comparison.
To come down from eulogizing to probably an ominous fact, this was probably the first time in a long long time that Sachin carried his bat through. Watch out Aussie!

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