THE STRIKER

 THE STRIKER

 

Sachin Anthony Raja was a promising athlete in high school. His keen eye, fluid movements, and striking abilities were noticed by his high school coach pretty early on. Mr Arkin Nicholas decided to field him, one last time, for the Seattle Thunderbolts before he moved away to university. The game was fixed against the Tallahassee Swamp Rats in their home ground.

 

‘The weather is certainly extreme here in Florida, ’ moaned Sachin, as he and the team arrived in Tallahassee by train. The match was fixed for the coming weekend. As it was a university game, a packed house was expected. The day of the week was Wednesday, which meant they had one whole day to themselves to rest and do what they may. The Tallahassee team management had insisted on the match being played on a Friday, as rumours had it, it was their lucky day. Mr Arkin reluctantly agreed on the match day, but given a choice, he would have picked Sunday. His team were a group of fearless young lads, who would play with their hearts, of that he was in no doubt. The town in Florida extended a somewhat delayed but warm welcome to the Seattle baseball team.

 

Sachin and his teammates hopped onto a tourist bus as they did the rounds of the town. The museum, the Railroad Square Art District, Lake Ella Park, the Automobile Museum, Tom Brown Park, Alfred B. Maclay Gardens, and a host of other tourist sites fleeted past. At one point, Sachin went into a clicking frenzy as he took selfies at the Greyhound Bus Station. ‘The vibrant parks and diverse trails, and the natural beauty of Florida are breathtaking, ’ lamented Sachin to no one in particular. After an eventful day, the team trooped back to their hotels.

 

‘Lads, what I am looking for in each one of you is one hundred per cent commitment. I know the conditions will be alien, and the ground uncertain, curated to the home team’s advantage, and we will lack the crucial crowd support. But I don’t want that to deter you at all. Remember what the Seattle Thunderbolts are made of. These guys may have had superior facilities and exposure, but where we beat them is our natural ability. How many of you guys follow soccer?’ asked an animated coach Arkin.

 

A few hands shot up.

 

‘There was this great Brazilian team, and they played superb soccer. Their superior ball possession and the Ginga style of play enabled them to become world champions. I know this is baseball and not soccer, but our Ginga player is Sachin.

‘Tony, I’m looking forward to a blistering knock from your side’, said Coach Arkin, addressing Sachin by his middle name. 

Sachin nodded vigorously, as did the other team members, who were fired up by Coach Arkin’s pep talk.

‘Who are we?’ screamed Coach Arkin.

‘The Seattle Thunderbolts’, cried the team members excitedly, and in unison.

 

Sachin woke up to a bright and sunny Friday morning. As the game was scheduled for late afternoon, Coach Arkin had called for light drills and a short training session to warm up and get the blood pumping and the feet moving. Sachin decided to do light stretching, but skipped the other drills.

 

The crowd was jam-packed at the Sugar Bowl Stadium as the teams took to the field. The home crowd cheered their team wildly, and especially the local hero Brosnan, who played to the gallery by blowing kisses at the crowd. Sachin watched in amusement as Brosnan saluted the crowd and did a somewhat Michael Jackson kind of moonwalk. The crowd went into a frenzy as the showman led them on. The crowd booed and jeered the Seattle Thunderbolts, and some even made lewd gestures.

 

‘Ignore the noise, focus on the game, ’ shouted a concerned Coach Arkin.

 

The game started and soon Sachin went in to bat. The Tallahasse captain, Brosnan, called on their star pitcher, Shaibzada. ‘These jokers don’t know our strengths. Let’s give them a welcome that they will remember’ mocked Brosnan as he handed the leather ball to Shaibzada. Shaibzada pitched the first ball at a speed of 85 mph, but Sachin was alert. He gripped the bat tight, and with his heart racing, he swung the bat. The bat made a sweet sound as it connected with the leather ball and sailed away with a thud. Brosnan called for a change in strategy. The next ball that Shaibzada pitched was a curveball travelling at a speed of 98 mph. Sachin took a swing, but somehow the ball dodged past his bat, slipped through his helmet, and knocked him on the head, rendering him senseless. The last thing that Sachin heard and saw before passing out was Shaibzade mocking him, ‘Welcome to the big-league baseball, this is no school league.’ The Tallahassee team broke into a moon dance as Sachin Anthony Raja was knocked out cold.

 

During this time, when he was knocked out, Sachin was suddenly aware that things were now moving in a breakneck yet somehow slow manner. He saw his life as if from outside, in a kind of flashback mode. He saw himself flunking the university selections and not even making it to the team selections. He saw himself moving around in the wilderness. Doors shut on him. He was suddenly out of luck, out of character, and out of print. He was left to fend for himself. He saw himself embarking on a learning spree where everything he learnt was self-taught. He taught himself to hold the bat from scratch again. He practised on his own for hours at a time, often burning the midnight oil. When he lacked motivation, he saw inspiring documentaries and read extensively. He learnt to rely on himself and no one else. 

 

And then the results began to trickle in slowly. Doors that were shut for him slowly opened. A slew of coaches and academies made a beeline for his house. All of them suddenly wanted to be seen as his coach and mentor. He was pulled in all directions by different coaches, who grabbed him. Some pulled at his hand, some at his legs, others at his hair, some others at his…

 

‘Wake up! A loud clap and persistent probing on his face suddenly brought Sachin back. He opened his eyes and saw Coach Arkin’s smiling, relieved face.

‘You were out for ten minutes, you know that,’ gasped a visibly relieved Coach.

‘For a moment, we thought we had lost you, ’ said the Coach.

‘Well, Coach, who are we?’ asked Sachin.

‘The Seattle Thunderbolts, ’ the team said in unison, amidst loud cheering.

‘That’s the spirit, ’ beamed Coach Arkin.

 

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Many years later, Sachin fixed his cap as he took the field for the national team.

‘You certainly earned this cap, ’ said the coach of the national team, Coach Washington.

As he sat in the dressing room, Sachin Anthony Raja found his thoughts drifting to that strange dream that he had when he was hit on the head by the ball, so many years ago.

‘In those ten minutes, I had the weirdest dream,’ said Sachin, as he stepped onto the pitch to face the pitcher, and took strike, as the crowd chanted his name.

 

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