Puffin Books Australia

1

AUSTRALIA'S LAST HOPE

A hush fell over the stadium. Sixty thousand excited Indian cricket supporters watched legendary fast bowler Prakash Shahid pause at the top of his run-up.

Five nervous Australian supporters watched the bats­man facing him.

'Go Nathan!' yelled my little brother Jordan.

'Hit a six!' yelled Harry, his twin.

We were at the flood-lit Kotla Park Stadium in New Delhi, India. Shahid was about to bowl the final ball in the deciding match of the Tri Nations One-day Cricket Series. India was five runs ahead. Australia was nine wickets down.

And that was our big brother holding the bat.

Nathan Fox was Australia's last hope.

'I can't watch: whispered Mum.

Dad and I stayed silent. We were both as nervous as Mum. It was Nathan's first time batting for Australia. It would probably be his last. Nathan was a wicket­keeper, not a batsman. He was only in the side because Australia's regular wicket-keeper, Glen Hamilton, had been injured in the previous game - hit in the ribs by a lightning-fast Prakash Shahid rising ball.

Shahid was the most feared bowler in international cricket.

'He'll bowl another bouncer: I said softly.

It was a bouncer that had dismissed the Australian captain on the previous delivery.

'I don't think so: said Dad. 'Shahid plays fair. He won't bounce a tail ender. You watch - it'll be a yorker:

A yorker isn't dangerous like a bouncer. The ball hits the ground at the batsman's feet, rather than landing ten metres in front of him and bouncing straight at his head at nearly 200 kilometres per hour.

But you can't hit a six off a yorker, because you can't get the bat under the ball. And Australia needed a six to win.

Shahid started his run-up. The crowd roared in excite­ment. India was about to win the series.

A victory for Australia seemed impossible.

I held my breath, remembering all the times Nathan and I had played backyard cricket when we were kids. Well, when I was a kid and Nathan was a teenager teaching me some of the tricks of the game. He wasn't much of a bat­ter, but I had never forgotten something he told me: Don't be scared of the ball, Sam. You're the one with the bat.

Now Nathan was the one with the bat. And suddenly I knew what he was about to do.

But Shahid didn't. When you're the fastest bowler in the world, you don't expect a number eleven batsman to come charging down the pitch towards you.

That's exactly what Nathan did.

Shahid was just stepping into his delivery stride when he saw Big Brother coming. He tried to change what was going to be a yorker into a short ball. But it wasn't short enough. Nathan reached the ball just before it bounced, swinging his bat like a club.

WHACK!

But he miscalculated the ball's speed. Instead of sail­ing off towards the cover boundary as Nathan intended, the ball glanced off the top of his bat and shot up into the starry night sky.

Sixty thousand jubilant Indian cricket supporters clapped and cheered, expecting it to be caught.

Four disappointed Australian cricket supporters shook our heads and sighed.

But not Harry.

'It's a six!' he yelled.

Could he be right? The ball had flown so high that it was up in the strong easterly wind blowing across the top of the grandstands. That, in combination with the speed of Shahid's delivery, carried it towards the deep­cover boundary.

A deathly silence fell as the crowd realised what was happening. Everyone watched the tiny white ball begin its long, curving descent.

Was it going to make it?

Not if Ajit Pillay could help it. The Indian all-rounder had run across from deep fine leg, his eyes locked on the ball. I held my breath, hoping he'd misjudge it. But Pillay was one of the best fielders in the game. With a final heroic lunge, he leapt up and wrapped the fingers of his out-flung left hand around the ball.

It was a glorious catch.

The roar of the crowd was deafening. S0 I only heard part of what Dad said:

'. . . over the rope. . :

Then I saw what he meant. After Pillay came down from taking the catch, he had accidentally stepped back­wards over the boundary rope. The umpire raised both hands above his head.

A six!

Australia had won the game. And the series.

Nathan was a hero!

Only then did I remember my camera. Shishkebab! I'd been so nervous watching my big brother face his first ever ball in international cricket that I'd forgotten to take his photo. There was still time for a shot. As the rest of the Australian. cricketers raced out onto the field to congratulate Nathan, I reached under my seat for my backpack.

It wasn't there.

Huh? I bent down to look. There was nothing under my seat apart from an empty drink can and a couple of gum wrappers.

Harry tugged my sleeve. 'That boy's got your bag; he said, pointing up into the stands behind us.

Our seats were at the end of a row, so I had a clear view. A small boy wearing a purple beanie went racing up the stairs away from us. Slung across one bony shoulder was my sky-blue backpack.

'HEY! STOP!' I yelled.