Elevating your game

A thought, one afternoon, took me back sixteen years in time.

I was in high school, and that time, cricket was my passion, my only one. I was the captain of a team of school kids from nearby villages. We weren’t that particularly good a team, partly because most of the team were just beginning to play real games. We were mostly fifth or sixth graders. Unlike in a town or a city, we didn’t really have many teams to chose from, as opposition. There was this team from our neighboring village who kept egging us for a match. We barely had six players in our team. The other problem was that the neighboring team were a bunch of high school and college going guys. Their average age was at least five years more than ours. Better yet, each player was good in a certain discipline – bowling, batting or both. Basically, we were minnows compared to them. And yeah, they were a full eleven member team.

The prospect of a match was uniquely exciting. There was a feeling of certainty that we would be thrashed. But yet, somewhere inside, I felt they could be beaten. It was an unreasonable, yet nagging thought. Perhaps, it was the kind of feeling the captain of the Bangladesh cricket team has before playing Australia.

My team had to be complete for the match. I requested a few friends and classmates from neighboring villages to join us. They agreed, and we were now eleven. Adequate head count was far from being ready though. When we got together to discuss and prepare, we all settled with the idea that we had to prepare enough to avoid an utterly humiliating defeat. The idea was to perform enough to give an impression that we went down fighting.

That evening, a couple of weeks before the big day, self and Guru, my cousin, and a good friend of mine, had a seeming boyish talk. There was no reason to, but we talked about winning. We went on, and on, and kept laughing about it. That Saturday, the sun had set and it was getting dark. We decided to have a good day of practice the next day and signed off.

That night, I couldn’t stop thinking about the idea of winning. I was pacing up and down in my front yard thinking about what it would really take to beat them. We really had only three players matching the level of each of the players in our opposition. I had a seemingly ludicrous thought that if each of us gave 200% and each member of the other team gave 50% or less, out of sheer complacency, we could win. Funny, you might chuckle off, but I was dead serious in thought then. I slept with the thought that we had to find some ways of elevating our game to a different level, to be able to realize my amazing theory.

The next day at practice, Guru mentioned that he had the same thought the night before. So, we began practice with that very goal - raising the level of game. How to achieve that, we didn’t have a clue. I believed it was all about practicing, and practicing hard. I firmed it up in my mind that I had to work on each of my skills – my fielding had be to sharper, my range of batting shots had to improve, and my bowling had to be darn accurate. Guru, for some reason, thought all this was not needed. He just believed in just being himself and going for it. When we practiced, I gave 200%. All of a sudden my game was so better. My bowling was particularly unplayable, and I had a great all-round performance. The extent of my determination and focus at that time were indescribable. I seemed to be all set and prepared. So, I thought. I was to be proved otherwise.

Guru, on the other hand was quite miserable in practice. He seemed to be tense, but believed that things would simply come together on the day of the match. Guru was our best player, and I had nothing but hope that he would deliver. Little did I know, what he would transform into.

The day of the match is something I cannot forget. There was tension as much as there was excitement. We were to play an away game. When we reached the playground, an improvised valley between hills, the confidence I exuded in practice was starting to diminish. I was nervous now, and my feet were trembling. Guru, on the other hand was quite the opposite. The jitteriness that he had during practice was non-existent. He was ready for war.

The first exchange of looks was intimidating for us. They were bigger than us, looked unforgiving, and seemed to be all set to make mincemeat of us.

We won the toss, elected to field and I took to the first over. I was darn nervous for the first ball, but the first ball happened to be a beauty. That took some tension off and gave me tremendous confidence. I knew those guys would be complacent and I cashed on it. I scalped four important wickets, and the they were bundled off for a reasonable small score. But still, that was a tall order for our team, because we had only three batsmen, effectively. We lost the one of them in the very first over – a shaky start. It was all up to me and Guru to take us all the way home.

What happened that day is something I can never forget. It was the day I saw Guru like never before. He single handedly destroyed the opposition. Though I didn't go all the way, I shared a good little partnership with Guru and we sailed home. Guru had just shown an example of how one could really elevate one’s game when required. Even to this day, every one of us (and our opposition) vividly remember that game.

Sixteen years have gone, and in the present day, I look back to glean some lessons. I am constantly faced with similar uphill tasks in work and personal life. Perhaps, even today, I do the mistake of focusing more on skills alone. For short periods of time, you will need to push the envelope of conventional thinking and situation handling. That is what makes you accomplish certain important victories and specific goals. Of course, this level cannot be sustained for long as you would burn out. But nonetheless, you need to help yourself elevate the game, when needed.