by Arunabha Sengupta
Headingley. 13 June 1999.
272 looked a steep target. Especially when Australia struggled at 20 for 2 and then 48 for3.
But then Ricky Ponting and Steve Waugh settled down. Ponting in innings-building mode, Waugh more intent on murdering the bowling. Klusener hammered back, lofted back over his head and flicked to the mid-wicket fence. Donald slashed over cover point, Shaun Pollock smashed through the covers. Nicky Boje dispatched in trademark style, down on the knee and swung away over cow corner.
Ponting reached fifty in 88 balls. Waugh in just 47. The score read 149 for three off 30 overs. Both batsmen set, both great enough players to finish the match. The game had swung back in Australia’s favour.
And then came the moment.
Klusener pitched on the legs, Waugh flicked without control. It struck the edge of the bat, lobbed to mid-wicket. Herschelle Gibbs was there. The ball landed safely in his hands. Eyes lit up in elation and the joyful hands tried to throw it up in unrestrained celebration. And the ball slipped, shot forward and fell harmlessly a few feet in front of him in a tepid arc. The catch had been spilled.
One of the best fielders of the day stood transfixed, at a loss for words. Waugh, however, had a lot to say.
“I hope you realise that you’ve just lost the game for your team.” Or was it, “Son, you’ve just dropped the World Cup”? Versions vary.
Anyway, the words were along these lines and meant to sting. And so did the rest of the innings that followed from the Australia captain’s celebrated blade.
Ponting was out for 69.
Waugh, however, remained unbeaten with 120 from 110 balls. Victory with two balls to spare. A captains innings, as perfect as can be. Almost as perfect as can be … There was that blemish. That moment. That instant Herschelle Gibbs will never forget.