Cometh the hour, cometh the man!

Ready to wield the bat of glory.

 

The bowlers hope to send him packing.

“Oh for goodness sake!”, he says. “Prepare for a whacking.”

 

Bowler after bowler becomes a laughing stock.

The spectators don’t sleep a wink.

 

With baited breath they all watch.

As he fights fire with fire, kicking his game up a notch.

 

The fielding team is a sorry sight.

They’ve seen better days but this is his night.

 

The uppercuts follow the cover drives and the pulls; the ball vanishes into thin air.

It doesn’t matter if it’s Wankhede or Lord’s – for the world is his oyster and he’s a talent that’s rare.

 

As he runs across and celebrates a ton; he makes your hair stand on end.

You’re not sure if he’s also just human, nothing more than a godsend.

 

He’s determined to stay at the crease come what may; taking his team out of the jaws of death.

 

The game is up, the opponents know. For in all anticipation, they now lie low.

 

And then it happens, the prized wicket! TV sets around the country go off.

“Good riddance!”, the bowlers think. The fielding captain steals a wink.

 

The spectators watch dead as doornails.

 

Now they know why they say, “You can never have too much of a good thing.”

They wear their hearts on their sleeves and cheer for him with all their might.

 

He raises his bat to acknowledge them all. A heart of gold shines through, despite a fall.

 

The team was once in a pickle, with two wickets down. “Fair play!”, the commentators exclaim.

*Knock knock* “Who’s there?”, they ask.

It’s the little master at the door to their hearts.