Sourav Ganguly's last minute as an international cricketer - Through the eyes of an 11-year-old boy

That last minute felt shorter. It also felt longer. It felt that a lot had happened in the span of what was apparently sixty seconds. It also felt that almost nothing had happened. That minute, the last one, where it all ended.

As he walked out to bat, the Australian team gave him a guard of honour. An eleven-year-old boy, in another part of the country, felt his chest swell with pride. It was his hero who was walking through that guard of honour.

He acknowledged the Australians, he shook the captain's hand. And, with a clear sense of purpose, he walked. Maybe, it was a march. There were emotions, for it would be his last walk out to the middle for India. That purposeful face concealed them.

As he got ready to face, he took one hard, long look at the field. Australia had men catching wherever he could see. At the top of his run-up was a debutant. An offspinner who had taken eight wickets in the first innings.

***

That eleven-year-old boy was praying that his hero would score one last century, give him that joy one last time. He sat as close to the television as he could. Hoping.

That minute was still going on.

***

The off-spinner, who would go on to play just one more Test, started his run. The ball pitched somewhere between middle and leg. It spun out of the rough, that a fourth-day wicket creates.

He shaped himself, he aligned his body and his bat to nudge it towards mid-wicket. He closed the face of the bat a second too early. The ball took the leading edge.

The end had arrived. He was caught & bowled, for a first-ball duck in his final innings.

***

That eleven-year-old boy shed a tear. Then another. And another.

***

Those emotions he had been hiding were on the verge of coming out. He walked back, through another guard of honour. It was not a march this time. That purpose, that reason was no longer there.

On the way back, he glanced towards the sky. As if to thank the almighty for all he had done for him. Those emotions could no longer be hidden. His eyes welled up.

Till the time he reached the boundary rope, he didn't look up again. And then, at what was obviously the end of a 16-year long journey, Sourav Ganguly mustered the courage to control his tears. He looked up at the half empty stadium. He waved his bat. He half smiled. And slowly disappeared.

***

The eleven-year-old had now gone absolutely quiet. His world had just come crashing down.

Disbelief. Shock. Agony. Pain.

For the four years he had known the game, Sourav Ganguly was all there was to his world of Cricket. The provider of bliss. The provider of inspiration. The provider of smiles. The provider of endless memories.

There wouldn't be any shirt waving. There wouldn't be chest thumping. There wouldn't be any majestic cover drives. There wouldn't be any overboard aggression. There wouldn't be any Sourav Ganguly.

For him, Cricket would never be the same again.

That minute ended.

With it, ended a part of him.