As the lunch break came during Indian team’s practice, new coach Anil Kumble almost snatched the sidearm ball launcher from batting coach Sanjay Bangar. He held it over his shoulder, like a javelin thrower and then he teed off, watched the ball’s flight closely.
The desired target didn’t hit, it didn’t even land, instead thudded full on to the side net, almost sneaked into the adjacent nets. But Kumble was not in a mood to leave the experiment.
The second try, though, looked even more hideous, it actually landed on the roof of the nets. If there was little more flight, it could have even dispatched onto the roof of the academy. “Shabash, Anil Bhai,” Bangar burst into laughter before they all went for lunch. Kumble then aborted the adventure, quizzically staring at the instrument. “Sure, it’s no rocket science,” he must have been saying in his mind.
The experiment with the ball-launcher might be a precursor on how Kumble could guide these young Indian boys — he would continue to experiment and will be inventive day by day. But at the same time wouldn’t tolerate anything silly, except his own indulgences with the ball sometimes. Just like he did for almost an hour, bowling seam up to Ajinkya Rahane, Karun Nair, and Wriddhiman Saha.
For, almost an hour into the practice, Kumble limbered up, picked up a tattered old ball used for throwdowns and without anything as much of a run-up, sputtered in. Everybody now shifted their focus from Kohli to Kumble to watch him turning the clock back.
The first ball was a rank long hop, which Ajinkya Rahane rocked back onto his back foot and merely dead-batted. The next one was even fuller, pitching a yard outside the leg stump. The third was the diametric opposite. But Kumble was not at all flinched. It looked like the more he bowled, the more reluctant he seemed to stop bowling.
However, there still was an indelible Kumble moment, the sort of trial he used to give to young batsmen in the past. Karun Nair was drawn forward to the drive a couple of times. He must have felt a sense of false security – that feeling Kumble used to incorporate in his prey before killing them – and thrust his front foot again. Ever the masterful plotter, he pulled his length back by a couple of yards and reduced his pace. The ball took his edge and fell where the short-leg fielder usually stands. This was straight from Kumble ‘s old manual of deception.