Every Sunday, cricket in Lane Number Five of our neighborhood was nothing short of an international showdown—at least in the players’ minds. The “stadium” was a narrow street, the “crowd” perched on terraces and balconies, and the commentary came free from enthusiastic neighbors. This week’s clash was between Young Star Eleven and Veteran Tigers. The tension was obvious just from the names.
Pappu, captain of Young Star Eleven, declared confidently before the match, “Today we’ll make them eat humble pie!”
On the other side, the calm and seasoned captain of Veteran Tigers—fondly called Chacha—just smiled and replied, “Son, first learn to face the ball.”
Young Star Eleven won the toss and chose to bat. The start was energetic—too energetic. On the very first ball, Pappu was clean bowled. A loud “Ohhh!” echoed through the lane. Pappu quickly defended himself, “The ball kept low!”
The next batsman walked in aiming for glory, swung hard for a six—and sent the ball straight into Mrs. Sharma’s balcony. The match paused while apologies were offered and the ball was retrieved.
Somehow, the team completed their twenty overs and posted a decent score. Now it was Veteran Tigers’ turn. Chacha began steadily—no flashy shots, no panic, just calm cricket.
Meanwhile, Pappu’s team kept shouting, “Build the pressure!” Ironically, the pressure began mounting on them instead.
With smart singles and well-timed boundaries, Chacha slowly took control. In the final over, only five runs were needed. Determined to change history, Pappu grabbed the ball himself.
First delivery—four runs.
Second ball—two runs.
Match over.
Silence filled the lane.
Chacha smiled and said gently, “Weren’t you going to make us eat humble pie?” The entire team burst into laughter. Scratching his head, Pappu admitted, “Looks like we’re the ones who got a taste of our own medicine.”
After that day, Pappu toned down his tall claims. And the match became legendary in the neighborhood—a perfect reminder that experience often proves that pride truly comes before a fall.