The DY Patil Stadium in Mumbai was a shimmering bowl of gold and blue, a coliseum built for the coronation of the first Kings of the IPL. The air was thick, humid, and vibrating with the collective roar of 75,000 people. It was June 1, 2008. The Final.
The Underdogs versus the Powerhouse. Shane Warne's Rajasthan Royals versus Adam Gilchrist's Deccan Chargers.
In the VIP Hospitality Box, Vikram Deva sat with his hands gripping the railing. He was wearing a Deccan Chargers jersey, looking every inch the proud father. Beside him, Sesikala was quieter, her eyes wide, absorbing the sheer scale of the spectacle.
"This is it, Sesi," Vikram shouted over the noise. "The biggest stage. Our boy is down there."
The First Innings
Gilchrist had lost the toss, and Shane Warne, ever the gambler, had put Deccan in to bat. "Chasing in a final is pressure," Warne had said with a grin. "We like pressure."
It seemed a bad decision. Gilchrist and Gibbs had started like a house on fire. Then, the Royals fought back. Yusuf Pathan spun a web. wickets fell in clumps.
When Scott Styris holed out to long-on, the scoreboard read:
146 for 5.
Overs: 16.2.
"And here he comes," Ravi Shastri's voice boomed over the stadium PA and the global broadcast. "The New sensation. The man who won them the semi-final. Siddanth Deva. 22 balls left in the innings. What can he do tonight?"
Siddanth walked out. The noise was a physical wave. He tapped the pitch, his mind cold and calculating.
146. We need 190. That's a winning score in a final.
He looked at Rohit Sharma at the other end. "We run hard, Rohit-bhai. And we clear the ropes."
Warne brought on his death bowler, Sohail Tanvir, the Purple Cap holder.
Ball 1: Tanvir bowled his wrong-footed, inswinging yorker.
Siddanth read the action. He didn't block. He opened the face of his bat, using Tanvir's pace to slice the yorker over point.
The ball raced away. Four.
"Cheeky!" Harsha Bhogle cried. "He plays the field, not just the ball. That takes courage against Tanvir."
Siddanth didn't stop.
Ball 2: A length ball. Siddanth cleared his front leg. He smashed it straight back over the bowler's head. One bounce. Four.
He rotated the strike. He ran like a panther.
In the 19th over, facing Shane Warne himself, Siddanth stepped out. Warne fired it wide.
Siddanth adjusted mid-stroke, reaching out, and with one hand coming off the handle, he lofted the spin king over extra cover.
It sailed into the stands. Six.
Vikram Deva was punching the air. "THAT IS WARNE! HE HIT WARNE FOR SIX!"
Siddanth faced 9 balls. He scored 22 runs.
Rohit Sharma finished with a flourish.
Deccan Chargers: 193 for 5.
It was a mammoth score for a final. The DC dugout was buzzing. They had one hand on the trophy.
The Second Innings
194 to win.
"Sid," Gilchrist said in the huddle, tossing him the new ball. "You set the tone. Fast. Straight. No mercy."
Over 1:
Siddanth ran in.
Ball 1: 150kph. A searing outswinger to Swapnil Asnodkar. Beat the edge.
Ball 2: 151kph. Asnodkar fended it off.
Ball 3: 149kph. A yorker. Dug out.
He conceded just 4 runs. A tight, hostile start.
Rajasthan fought back.
Gilchrist brought Siddanth back for the 3rd over. He went for 8 runs but kept the pressure on.
Then came the middle overs. The game was balancing on a knife-edge. Shane Watson was the key. He was muscling the ball.
Over 11.
RP Singh was bowling. Watson smashed a length ball high towards the long-on boundary.
It was a six. It had to be a six. It was sailing over the rope.
"That is huge!" Danny Morrison yelled. "Watson launches it! That's going all the way... wait! Deva is there!"
Siddanth was patrolling long-on. He saw the ball. He calculated the trajectory.
It was going over his head. He was right on the rope.
He didn't stop.
He jumped.
He jumped backwards, over the boundary rope.
He was in the air, floating outside the field of play.
He caught the ball with both hands.
But gravity was pulling him down. If he landed, it was six runs.
In a split second, while still suspended in the air outside the boundary, he threw the ball back into the field of play.
He landed on the grass beyond the rope.
He turned, planted his foot, and launched himself back onto the field.
The ball was falling.
He dived forward and caught it, inches from the turf.
The Catch of the Century.
The stadium went dead silent for a second, processing the physics. Then it erupted.
"I DO NOT BELIEVE IT!" Ravi Shastri was screaming, his voice cracking. "Are you watching this? He was outside the ground! He threw it back in! He came back in! That is the greatest piece of fielding I have ever seen! Shane Watson is gone! Siddanth Deva is Superman!"
In the VIP box, Sesikala had her hands over her mouth. "Did he... did he fall? Is he hurt?"
"No, Sesi!" Vikram was shaking her shoulders. "He caught it! He took the wicket! It's a miracle!"
Watson stood there, stunned. He walked off, shaking his head. The danger man was gone.
Siddanth stood up, dusting off his jersey, his face calm.
---
The game swung back and forth. Yusuf Pathan played a blinder before being run out.
It came down to the wire.
Sohail Tanvir and Shane Warne were at the crease.
Over 18:
Siddanth bowled it.
He bowled yorker after yorker.
He conceded just 5 runs.
---
Over 19: RP Singh bowled. He went for 10 runs.
The Equation: The Final Over.
8 runs needed off 6 balls.
Bowler: Siddanth Deva.
The trophy was 6 balls away.
Siddanth took the ball. His shoulder ached, but his mind was clear.
8 runs. Don't give boundaries. Make them run.
Ball 1: Sohail Tanvir on strike.
Siddanth ran in. 150kph. A perfect wide yorker.
Tanvir threw his bat. He missed.
DOT BALL.
"Perfect, just what they need right now!" Harsha whispered, "8 off 5. The pressure is shifting to Rajasthan."
Ball 2: Siddanth went for the wide yorker again.
Tanvir connected. He sliced it to deep point.
They ran hard. Siddanth sprinted to the stumps.
Two runs.
6 off 4.
Ball 3: Siddanth changed it up. The 110kph slower ball.
Tanvir was early. He chipped it towards mid-off.
It landed safely. They ran a quick single.
Single.
5 runs needed off 3 balls.
Shane Warne was on strike. The legend. The captain.
Siddanth looked at him. Warne looked back, his eyes narrowing.
Ball 4:
Siddanth's plan was perfect. He wanted to cramp Warne. Bowl at the body. Don't give him width.
He ran in. 148kph.
He bowled a searing delivery, angling into the ribcage.
Warne was hurried. He tried to tuck it away defensively. He was beaten for pace.
The ball jagged back.
It took the inside edge of Warne's bat.
It missed the leg stump by a millimeter.
It raced fine, past the diving Gilchrist.
It raced to the fine-leg boundary.
FOUR.
Siddanth fell to his knees for a second.
It was a perfect ball. It was a wicket-taking ball.
And it had gone for four.
Luck. The one variable the System couldn't control.
"Oh, agony for Deva!" Shastri cried. "That is cruel! That is a perfect delivery! Inside edge... beats the keeper... and runs away for four! Luck favours the brave, and Warne is smiling!"
Equation: 1 run needed off 2 balls.
Scores were tied.
Ball 5: Warne on strike.
The field was in. Everyone saving the single.
Siddanth ran in. He had to get a wicket.
He bowled a yorker.
Warne dug it out straight to mid-off.
He wanted the run. The non-striker, Tanvir, sent him back.
DOT BALL.
Equation: 1 run needed off 1 ball.
A Super Over if it's a dot or a wicket. A win for RR if they run.
The DY Patil Stadium was shaking.
Siddanth stood at the top of his mark.
He looked at the Corporate Box. He couldn't see his parents, but he knew they were praying.
One ball. One good ball.
He ran in.
He put every ounce of his soul into it.
152kph.
A yorker.
Warne, the old fox, didn't try to hit it. He didn't try to block it.
He just backed away, made room, and threw his bat at it, hoping to get it over the infield.
He mistimed it.
But he hit it.
The ball lobbed over the head of the mid-on fielder.
It didn't go for four. It didn't go for six.
It just landed in the gap.
Warne and Tanvir ran.
They crossed.
Warne threw his helmet in the air.
Rajasthan Royals Won by 3 wickets.
---
Siddanth didn't stop running. He ran past the stumps, past the celebrating Royals.
His momentum carried him ten yards.
Then, his legs just gave out.
He collapsed.
He sank to his knees, then forward, his forehead touching the turf of the DY Patil Stadium.
He stayed there.
The noise of the stadium was a roar, but for him, it was underwater.
He had failed.
The inside edge. The lucky four.
One run. Again.
First the Ranji Final. Now the IPL Final.
His mind tried to rationalise it. Variance. Luck. Probability.
In the VIP Box, Sesikala sat down heavily in her chair. She wasn't crying. She just looked... empty. She looked at the small, figure slumped on the grass.
"He... he tried so hard," she whispered.
Vikram Deva stood up. He didn't look at the celebrating Royals. He looked at his son. His face was etched with pain, not for the loss, but for the boy on the ground.
"Get up, Siddu," Vikram murmured, his voice cracking. "Don't stay down. Get up."
On the field, the celebration raged around him. Warne was hugging Tanvir. The Royals were sprinting.
But then, a shadow fell over Siddanth.
A large, gloved hand grabbed his shoulder.
"Up you get, mate."
It was Adam Gilchrist.
The captain hauled Siddanth to his feet. Siddanth looked up. His eyes were red, not from tears, but from the sheer, burning frustration.
"I bowled the ball, Gilly," Siddanth said, his voice hollow. "I bowled the perfect ball. It went for four."
Gilchrist pulled him into a rough hug. "I know you did. That's cricket, son. Sometimes you bowl a peach and it goes for four. Sometimes you bowl pie and get a wicket. You didn't lose this for us. You got us here."
Andrew Symonds walked over, patting Siddanth hard on the back. "Head up, champion. You took the catch of the century. Remember that."
Even Shane Warne, amidst his victory lap, jogged over. He stopped for a second, grabbing Siddanth's hand.
"Hell of a game, kid," Warne said, his eyes sparkling. "You scared us. That spell... that catch... you're special. Keep your chin up."
Siddanth nodded, wiping his face with his sleeve.
He looked up at the stands. He found the VIP box. He saw his parents standing there.
Sesikala waved, a small, sad, proud wave.
Vikram gave him a thumbs-up. A solid, unwavering thumbs up. We are here.
Siddanth took a deep breath.
He had lost.
But he had played in the final. He had taken the catch of a lifetime. He had scored runs. He had bowled the final over.
He walked towards the presentation ceremony, the runner-up medal waiting for him.
Next time, he whispered, the steel returning to his spine.
Next time, there will be no inside edges. Next time, I take the luck out of the equation.
Siddanth Deva
IPL 2008 Stats:
Matches: 11
Runs: 432 (Top 10)
Wickets: 17 (Top 5)
Catches: 12 (Including Catch of the Season)
Status: Emerging Player of the Year.
He stood on the podium, forced a smile for the camera, and made a silent vow.
The IPL was unfinished business.