On the evening of May 26, 2024, the Narendra Modi Stadium was full. The official figure was 130,000, a number that sounded almost abstract until Siddanth Deva stood beneath the concrete tiers and heard the people above him.
The floodlights were already on, bleaching the upper stands and giving the grass a deeper green than it had held in the afternoon.
Sunrisers Hyderabad were in orange. Kolkata Knight Riders wore purple and gold. Their supporters had filled the ground in roughly equal numbers, though the two colours did not remain politely on their own sides of the stadium. They spilled into the aisles, onto the railings, into the gaps around the hospitality boxes. Every time the public-address system announced another name, the noise rose in a different part of the ground and travelled overhead until it became difficult to tell who was cheering for whom.
Deva stood in the tunnel, rolling his shoulders once beneath his SRH jersey.
Shreyas Iyer was beside him, adjusting the collar of his purple shirt. KKR had lost Qualifier 1 and recovered in Qualifier 2.
Javagal Srinath appeared at the mouth of the tunnel.
"All right, boys. Time to go."
Iyer took his hands away from his collar. Deva gave him a quick nod, and the two captains followed Srinath into the light.
Ravi Shastri was waiting at the centre, gold microphone in hand, sunglasses reflecting the floodlights.
"Look at this place!" he called, turning towards the stands before bringing the microphone back to the captains. "The biggest stage in franchise cricket, and we've got two teams that have had to earn their way here. Shreyas, Siddanth, let's get the toss done."
Deva took the coin from his pocket and showed it to Shastri before flicking it upwards. Iyer watched it turn.
"Tails."
The coin struck the clay, bounced once, and settled. A little dust lifted around its edge.
"Heads," Shastri announced.
Deva won. Shastri moved the microphone towards him as the giant screens filled with his face.
"Siddanth, you've won the toss in the final. What are you thinking?"
"We'll field, Ravi Bhai."
There was a small change in the noise around them, the crowd responding before Shastri could finish his follow-up.
"Not tempted to put a total on the board? It's a final. Plenty of captains would want runs to defend."
Deva glanced briefly at the pitch.
"It looks pretty good. Dry and hard. I thought it might hold a bit early, though, so we'll have a look at it under the lights. The bowlers know what we're after. If we get it right, we'll give ourselves a chance."
"And the side stays the same?"
"Yeah, unchanged."
He might have added something about the work the group had done or the occasion they had reached. Instead, he handed Shastri the microphone's attention back to Iyer and stepped away while KKR's captain named his side.
Narine and Salt would open, with Venkatesh, Iyer, Rinku Singh and Russell among the batters to follow. Iyer wanted a score that would keep Hyderabad asking questions well into the chase. He said as much in the formal language of a toss presentation, then shook Deva's hand.
"Good luck."
"You too."
They turned towards their respective dugouts.
In the commentary box, Harsha Bhogle waited for the captains to clear the microphones.
"Deva has backed his bowlers. There's a little in the surface for them if they can make use of it."
Ricky Ponting leaned forward, forearms on the desk. "I'm interested in the first six overs. If Salt and Narine get away, they'll take the pressure off everyone who follows. And 200 here is a different proposition to 150."
Ian Bishop looked down at his notes. "Bhuvneshwar Kumar with the new ball, then. He has made a career out of asking questions in that first over."
The players began their preparations. On the field, the groundsmen moved away from the pitch. Deva's bowlers gathered beside him, and the noise of the final settled into something the players could work around.
The game was ready to begin.
The Kolkata box was close enough to the glass that Shah Rukh Khan could see the players' expressions as they came out of the tunnel. He wore a white shirt and sunglasses, with a piece of gum working steadily between his teeth. When Narine and Salt appeared, he leaned towards the glass. He said nothing, though he continued chewing.
A couple of boxes away, Kavya Maran had been standing since the toss. Her orange blazer was buttoned, and she had been worrying at the edge of one thumbnail with her teeth. There were people around her talking about the playing XI and the order in which the bowlers might be used, but she heard only some of it. She had watched this group come together over the season, watched the auction decisions turn into a side capable of reaching the final. Now the players were walking to their positions, and there was nothing useful for her to do.
In the Deva box, Krithika had claimed the end of the sofa nearest the railing. She wore an orange T-shirt and had both hands around a cup of green tea, though it had been a while since she drank from it. Candice Warner sat beside her with one shoe off, her foot tucked under her leg. She was following the fielders as they spread out, occasionally glancing towards the dugout.
"He slept, by the way," Candice said.
Krithika looked over. "Who?"
"Dave. Four hours. He says that's a full night's sleep before a final."
"That sounds about right."
"He had so much rice at lunch. Said it was deliberate." Candice shook her head. "I asked if the plan was to sleep through the first innings."
"What did he say?"
"That he was saving his energy."
Krithika laughed, a small, surprised sound that loosened her shoulders. She had been listening to the crowd for so long that she had almost forgotten how loud a normal voice could be. "Sid had filter coffee at four. Then he went back to the pitch in his head. He didn't even tell me he was doing it. Just sat there staring at the wall."
"Dave does that, too."
"Stares at the wall?"
"Stares at anything. A wall, a plate, the back of his hand. You can ask him a question and wait a whole minute for an answer. Then he says something completely unrelated."
They watched the openers take guard. Neither woman spoke for a while.
The children had already found a use for the room that had nothing to do with cricket.
Aadhya, in an orange DEVA 6 jersey and denim shorts, had decided the space between the sofas and the buffet was a track. She raced down it, pivoted around a chair, and ran back while trying to persuade the others that the rules were obvious.
"You can't catch me. I'm too fast."
"You cheated," Ivy Mae shouted.
"I didn't!"
"You went round the table."
"That's allowed."
Indi Rae, wearing the same orange Warner jersey as her twin, ran at Aadhya with her arms out. Aadhya slipped past her, touched the glass with two fingers, and declared it home.
"You can't tag me when I'm home."
"That's not home!" Ivy said.
"It is now."
Krithika glanced up from the pitch. "Five more minutes."
Aadhya kept running.
Rishi was playing too, at least intermittently. The others could usually get him to join their game, but when the match came back into view he would stop whatever he was doing and watch.
Candice nudged the plate of fries closer to him. He took one without looking away from the screen.
Across the aisle, Sachin Tendulkar sat on the edge of his chair with his hands clasped. He wore orange, his wife Anjali sat beside him with a tissue folded into a small square between her fingers. Sara stood just behind his chair, both hands resting on his shoulders.
Sachin had played in World Cup finals. He had walked out in front of crowds that could make this one feel familiar, had known what it was to have a country watching a single contest through him. None of that gave him anything useful to do now. From here he could see the bowler's mark, the umpire, a slice of pitch and a son who had to run in and bowl the ball.
"He's been bowling this one all year," Anjali said quietly.
Sachin did not look away. "I know."
"I mean, he's worked on it."
"I know."
She left him alone after that. Her hand rested against his wrist, not quite holding it.
Arjun was getting ready at the boundary.
Bhuvneshwar Kumar had the new white Kookaburra in his right hand. All season, Deva had used him with the new ball and taken it away before the calf began to trouble him. Three overs, if the swing was there. That was how they had planned it, though plans had a habit of looking different once the first over was finished.
Bhuvi walked back to his mark while Salt took guard. The batters had exchanged a few words, perhaps about the field, perhaps nothing in particular. From the side of the pitch, Deva watched the way Bhuvi held the ball and the way Salt set himself. He was looking for small signs: where the front foot landed, how early the bat came down, whether the batter was already trying to hit through the off side.
The first ball shaped away from Salt at a good length. He let it go, head following it past off stump. The next was fuller, and Salt got his bat down in time to defend. Bhuvi followed with a ball that drew a single, then made Narine play into the covers. The next delivery brought no run. A leg-bye completed the over.
Three off it. No boundary.
Deva watched Bhuvi turn and walk back, rolling the ball in his palm. The bowler had not made anything happen yet, but he had not given Salt a comfortable drive either.
Arjun Tendulkar was called from the Pavilion End.
The cameras cut to Sachin's box. He had been sitting forward with his elbows on his knees; now his hands moved to the arms of the chair. Sara leaned down, though she was still behind him, and Anjali unfolded the tissue in her fingers before folding it again.
Out in the middle, Arjun looked towards Deva at mid-off. Deva touched the brim of his cap and pointed out the adjustments: straight mid-on, square leg, no third man. It was a field that left the bowler responsible for the line and length, and Deva wanted him to commit to it rather than search for an alternative at the last second.
Arjun turned at the top of his mark. He took a breath, ran in, and delivered with the seam upright.
The ball was full, on middle and off, and quick enough that Salt had already committed his front foot when it began to swing. Salt tried to drive through the line. The ball dipped late, passed beneath the face of the bat and struck him on the pad, directly in front of the stumps.
Deva had begun to lift his arm before the ball had finished its movement. Behind him, the appeal went up from the wicketkeeper and the bowler.
"Howzat?"
Salt looked down at his pad, then back towards the umpire. Richard Illingworth's finger rose.
For a moment Arjun stayed in his follow-through, his body still angled towards the batter. Then he turned to his teammates. Who pounced on him.
The cameras found Sachin on his feet. He had both arms raised, and the shout that had escaped him seemed to surprise him almost as much as the wicket had. Anjali had her hands over her mouth. Sara was bouncing beside the chair, saying something he could not hear.
Sachin looked towards the middle again. Arjun was already at the edge of the celebrating group, accepting a tap on the back and trying, unsuccessfully, to hide his smile.
"A father watching his son take a wicket in an IPL final," Bhogle said. His voice had softened, though he did not labour the point. "That's a lovely sight."
Bishop was still talking about the delivery. "He got the ball full enough, and Salt couldn't get himself back out of the shot. That's the key. You can have the swing, but if the batter has time to adjust, it doesn't matter."
Sachin sat down. Anjali took his wrist in her hand, and he let her keep it there while the game moved on.
"Good ball," Deva said after messing his hair. "Finish the over."
The five balls remaining in the over were less dramatic. Venkatesh Iyer, coming in to replace Salt, left one outside off, defended another and worked a single towards the leg side. Two further deliveries went by without a run. Arjun took the ball back from the umpire and returned to his field.
The fielders spread out again. Deva was already considering the next over.
Narine was a different problem from Salt. He could leave a good ball alone when it suited him, but he liked having room to free his arms, and the pull was a shot he trusted. Deva had seen him look at the leg side more than once. Before Bhuvi bowled to him again, Deva moved Glenn Phillips deeper and finer, close enough to the rope to cover the pull but not so far back that Narine could simply take the easy single.
He also wanted Bhuvi to take a little pace off the ball by pitching it just short of the length Narine could comfortably swing through. It was a small adjustment. If Narine chose to ignore it, there was not much Deva could do beyond trusting the man at the boundary.
The ball came in.
Narine pulled hard, but he did not get the middle of the bat. It climbed steeply over the leg side, and Phillips was already moving beneath it. He took the catch over his shoulder, adjusted his footing, and stayed upright.
Narine's innings ended at 11 off 8. The board showed KKR at 15 for 2.
Ponting leaned towards the microphone. "That's the point of the field change. He put the man in the place where Narine wanted to hit the ball. You don't need to bowl a magic delivery every time; sometimes you make the batter hit the shot you're waiting for."
In the KKR dugout, the faces had gone still. Rinku Singh was preparing to go out, and the batters who had expected to follow an aggressive powerplay were having to reconsider what they wanted the innings to become.
Arjun's second over came later, after KKR had begun to rebuild. The bowler returned to the same length, keeping the ball in the area where it could hold up just enough to interfere with a clean swing. Venkatesh drove on the up and found Abhishek Sharma at extra cover, who moved forward and took the catch. When Rinku tried to use his feet, the ball did not arrive quite as he expected, and he could only defend it. Six came from the over.
Bhuvi's third over was to be his last. He worked through two dots, gave up a boundary over point, dug a yorker out of the surface, and conceded a single. Three overs, one wicket, fifteen runs.
"Done," Deva told him as he came off. "Sit down. Ice it if it starts talking."
Bhuvi wiped his face with his towel. "It doesn't talk."
Deva looked at him.
"Not much," Bhuvi amended.
The powerplay ended at 36 for 2. Rinku swept one fine for four, but there was no rush in the way the innings unfolded. Nitish bowled hard into the pitch, forcing the batters to work for their runs, while Markande varied his pace and made Venkatesh keep looking for the turn. The fifty came up in the eighth over, with little celebration from the purple shirts.
Venkatesh had started to look more settled when Markande came around the wicket and sent down a googly. The ball dipped on off stump; Venkatesh played for the leg-break and left a gap between bat and pad. It went through and took the off stump out of the ground.
Venkatesh had made 18. KKR were 54 for 3.
Iyer came out at a point when the innings needed someone to take responsibility without making the situation worse. Deva put a slip in place and stationed a short cover, hoping to make the new batter think about where he could drive rather than how quickly he could score. Iyer defended the first few balls and tried to find gaps without giving the fielders a chance.
Rinku, at the other end, was less patient. In the ninth over he went against the turn, early into the shot, and sent up a leading edge. Abhishek settled beneath it and took the catch. Rinku had made nine.
At 61 for 4, KKR were no longer building towards a total that would put the pressure on Hyderabad. They were trying to keep enough batters at the crease to make the last five overs count.
Russell walked in, and Deva moved Nitish into the attack against Iyer. The first ball was hard and short of a length, the next skid on, and the third came full into the pads. Iyer went back, perhaps expecting the ball to hold on the pitch, but it reached him before he could get his weight out of the way. It struck him in front of middle and leg. Illingworth gave it.
Iyer waited briefly, looking towards the umpire and then at the square-leg official. He had earned himself those few seconds. Then he turned, picked up his bat and walked.
He had made 15. At the end of twelve overs, KKR were 68 for 5.
They sent Manish Pandey in as the Impact Player. With the score where it was, a cameo was not going to be enough. They needed someone to bat through the innings, even if the boundary count remained modest.
Russell was waiting at the other end when Pandey arrived.
"We bat," Russell said as they came together. "Don't think about the score."
Pandey looked towards the board, then back at him. "You hit it. I'll stay here."
Russell nodded. That was the arrangement, as simple as they could make it.
Pandey played late and kept the ball on the ground whenever he could. Russell began to find the boundary, running hard between the wickets and pushing the fielders back a little at a time. He struck a four along the long-on rope and glanced towards the dugout to see if anyone had noticed. The score had moved to 104 for 5 after sixteen overs, and for a moment the possibility of a more substantial finish returned.
Four overs at this ground could still change a score. Deva knew it, and the men around him knew it. He stood with his hands on his hips while the analyst spoke softly beside him. The numbers were useful, but only as long as everyone remembered that someone still had to bowl the balls.
Nitish's seventeenth brought a four over cover. Markande's final over included a sweep and four byes after the wicketkeeper missed a slog. KKR reached 124 for 5.
Deva checked the field for the nineteenth. The boundary riders were positioned for the yorker, with long-on and long-off back. He wanted Russell to have to manufacture his power against a ball that would not give him much room to swing.
The first delivery came down full. Russell's bat arrived late, and the ball went through to strike middle stump. The sound was small, almost lost beneath the crowd, but Russell had already turned away. He walked for 22.
Ramandeep tried to force the scoring. He jammed one out for a single, then edged a full toss into space and got back for two before moving across his crease again. Natarajan followed him with a yorker on leg stump. Ramandeep could not get his bat down in time.
Two wickets in the over.
Pandey was left to manage the final six balls with the tail. Natarajan went back to his yorkers, and one that missed its mark by a foot gave Pandey the room to get underneath it and hit a four. It was his best shot of the innings. The last ball was dug out, and Pandey remained not out on 38.
KKR finished with 132 for 7.
The orange section of the ground had risen before the innings was over. Now the noise from those stands grew fuller, and some of the supporters began waving their flags as though they had been waiting all night for the chance.
Bhogle considered the total before speaking. "It's a score Hyderabad will believe they can chase. The pitch hasn't become difficult."
Ponting was already looking back over the first half of the innings. "Salt first ball. Narine into the man Deva had just put out there. Venkatesh, Rinku, then Iyer. KKR were in a hole very early, and they never quite got out of it. Russell gave them something, but 132 leaves very little margin."
In the SRH box, Krithika finally drank some of her green tea. It had gone lukewarm. She could hear Aadhya telling the twins that the second innings was when her father would bat, and corrected her without taking her eyes off the screen.
"He might not need to."
Aadhya looked up at her, frowning.
"Why wouldn't he?"
"Because the other players might do it first."
"But Nana has a bat."
"I know, kanna."
On the screen, the KKR players were walking off.
Kavya sat down for the first time since the toss. She watched Iyer cross the boundary and speak briefly to Natarajan, who demonstrated the line of the final delivery with the ball in his hand. Even with 132 on the board, they were discussing the foot that had made the difference.
---
One hundred and thirty-three to win. There were no obvious signs that the pitch had deteriorated, and the boundaries remained within reach for batters who could hit through the line. Deva wanted his openers to understand that there was no need to turn the chase into a contest with the scoreboard.
In the tunnel, David Warner and Abhishek Sharma stood side by side, adjusting their gloves. Beyond the opening, they could see Mitchell Starc waiting with the ball. Deva spoke quietly enough that they had to lean in.
"Don't get too worked up about the first six. If it's there, hit it. If it holds up, take the single and move on. We've got the overs. That's all we need."
Warner gave Abhishek a light tap on the pad with the back of his glove.
"I'll take Starc."
Abhishek glanced towards the bowler. "Fine. I'll take whoever."
"That's the spirit," Warner said, and started walking.
Starc took the new ball. Warner met the first delivery with a clip for one, watched the next go by, and worked a pair of runs off his pads before taking a single. Five came from the over. It was unremarkable cricket, precisely the kind of opening Deva had hoped for.
Arora came on and looked quicker through the air, though the ball was slower once it landed. Abhishek drove past mid-off for four. He tried to repeat the shot near the end of the over, but the next ball came at him faster than expected and took the outside edge. First slip held it.
Abhishek had made four. Hyderabad were 12 for 1.
A few of the KKR supporters found their voices. The wicket had arrived early enough to give them something to believe in. A final could become complicated quickly, particularly if the batter who had just gone in was one of the openers.
Travis Head walked out without hurrying. He adjusted his gloves at the crease and looked towards Warner, who had moved back from the pitch.
"It's holding," Warner told him.
Head nodded. "All right. You bat. I'll annoy them."
Warner gave him a brief smile and took guard again.
Starc's third over was a leave, a defence, and then a pull from Head that travelled to the boundary in front of square. Head did not raise his bat or turn towards the stands. He was more interested in reaching the other end, and the pair ran twos whenever the fielders gave them enough room.
Narine came on in the fifth, the over KKR had expected to put pressure on the new batter. Head went down and checked his sweep, taking two into the gap to the right of cover rather than trying to hit the ball over the boundary. Warner swept fine for four. Nine came from the over.
Iyer shifted a fielder and tried to close off the space Warner had been using. Deva watched from the dugout, forearms on his thighs, as the field took shape around them.
Varun Chakravarthy bowled the sixth. Warner pushed a single. Head punched the next ball through the gap the sweep had opened, and it beat the fielder before anyone could move across. Four more.
At the end of the powerplay, Hyderabad were 41 for 1. It was not an explosive start, but neither was it the sort that required a batter to do something reckless in the next over.
In the family box, Aadhya had stopped running only because Ivy managed to tag her elbow.
"That was my hair," Aadhya complained. "You touched my hair."
"I touched your arm!"
"You did not."
Krithika reached out and straightened the hem of her shirt. "Can you two play without arguing for one minute?"
"No," said Aadhya.
Then she turned to the screen. "Where's Nana?"
"In the dugout."
"Is he going play?"
"He might not need to. Drink your water."
Aadhya took the glass and drank half of it, mostly to show that she had done as she was told. Then she ran back towards the buffet, where the twins were waiting to restart the game.
The seventh and eighth overs passed with a run here and a run there. Warner was not trying to force a boundary, and Head seemed content to let the innings gather shape. In the ninth, Head late-cut for four, and Warner drove Starc through the infield to bring up the fifty.
By the time the first drinks break arrived, Hyderabad were 62 for 1. Warner had 31, Head 22. There was still enough work left to do that neither man seemed interested in celebrating the partnership.
The analyst came over to Deva with the tablet.
"Want the pads on?"
Deva looked down at his legs. He was sitting on the bench in shorts, a T-shirt and flipflops. The ice in his coffee had begun to melt, leaving a cold ring around the inside of the cup.
"No."
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
The analyst waited, perhaps expecting an explanation. Deva picked up his coffee and drank.
Across the dressing room, Bhuvi had a towel around his calf. He had not asked for the ice, though the physiotherapist had left it beside him. Markande was rolling a ball between his palms and looking at the screen. Deva told them about the hotel elevator, which had stopped between floors that morning, leaving Head to stare at the ceiling while they waited for the doors to open.
"What did he do?" Markande asked.
"Nothing. Just looked at it."
Bhuvi laughed. "Probably thinking about hitting it for six."
"That's what I told him."
The laughter eased the room. Deva drank more coffee and watched Warner take a single.
The batters did not change their approach when the game resumed. They picked up ones and twos against Narine, and Warner drove Varun over extra cover, keeping the ball along the ground until it raced through the gap. Hyderabad reached 79 for 1.
They looked, for a few overs, like they were playing a league match in April. The bowlers still had plans, and the batters still had work to do, but the sense that every ball might decide the final had begun to loosen. Warner was watching the field as much as the bowler. Head was finding ways to use the pace without taking unnecessary risks.
Starc returned, and Warner went through the same gap for four. Head pulled the next boundary in front of square. Twelve runs came from the over, and the scoreboard moved to 96 for 1.
Warner passed fifty with a push for two, raising his bat once towards the dugout. Deva was still seated in flipflops, holding his iced coffee. Bhuvi leaned towards Markande and began explaining something with his own paper cup.
The television cameras lingered on the dugout a little longer than the situation required.
Bishop noticed. "The SRH's due in next if a wicket falls. Doesn't look in a hurry to put the pads on."
Ponting glanced at him. "He may not have to. Warner's batting well, and Head has given them a proper stand. But finals have a way of asking a question when you're not expecting it."
Bhogle watched the next ball. "At the moment, the only question is whether KKR can take a wicket without giving away another boundary."
The answer came in the fourteenth over, though not quite in the way KKR might have wished.
Head had been placing the ball into gaps for much of his innings, working the spin and choosing when to attack. Varun pulled him into a slog-sweep. Head went down, committed early, and hit across the ball without getting his timing right. The top edge carried towards deep mid-wicket, where the fielder was positioned finer than Head had expected. He moved a couple of steps, settled beneath it and took the catch.
Head had made 36 from 29 balls. His partnership with Warner had brought 88.
Head tapped Warner's glove before turning towards the boundary. There was no visible frustration in the exchange, just the quick acknowledgement of two players who knew what the other had done. Warner watched him walk away, then looked down and reset his grip.
Deva lifted his cup and took a small drink.
"Good," he said to the coach beside him. "Klaasen's next."
The crowd had begun to stand, assuming the captain would now come in. Deva remained where he was and reached out as Heinrich Klaasen passed.
"Don't worry about holding the end up," he said. "David's set. You go after them. If the ball's there, hit it."
Klaasen had been padded up since the tenth over. He stopped and listened, eyes briefly flicking towards the field before returning to Deva.
"Full power?"
"Full power. Just take the single if it's there."
"Right."
He went up the steps towards the middle, and it took the crowd a moment to understand that Deva was staying put. Some of the applause faltered, then turned into something else as Klaasen reached the crease.
Narine had the fifteenth. Klaasen did not spend a delivery feeling him out.
The first ball went back over Narine's head and into the second tier. Warner had already moved out of the way before it landed. On the second, Klaasen got two into the off side. The next disappeared over deep mid-wicket for six, followed by a four through extra cover. A fifth ball produced nothing, and Warner took a single to keep the strike moving.
Klaasen had made 20 from five balls. The board showed 119 for 2. Fourteen remained to win.
In the box, Aadhya had both hands pressed to the glass.
"He hit it so far!"
"That's Heinrich," Krithika said.
"Is Nana going to hit one?"
Candice leaned over to reclaim a napkin before it fell to the floor. "Your father is a problem. He's still drinking coffee."
"He's resting," Aadhya said, with the firmness of a child defending a perfectly obvious truth.
Rishi who was sitting quietly nodded his head hearing that.
The sixteenth over was Varun's. Warner took a single to give Klaasen the strike, and Klaasen went after the slog-sweep, the same shot Head had tried earlier. He got underneath it but failed to find the middle of the bat. The ball went high towards long-on, where the fielder took the catch near the rope and managed to keep his feet inside the field of play.
Klaasen was out for 20 from 6 balls. Hyderabad were 128 for 3, needing five more.
Deva stood for the first time since the twelfth over. He still had his coffee in his right hand. He reached out with his other and put it briefly against Klaasen's neck as he passed the dugout.
"That's all right. David's there."
Klaasen nodded, swallowing whatever he had been about to say, then sat down to remove his gloves.
Glenn Phillips was already waiting at the top of the steps. Deva gave him a quick look.
"Hit it if it's there. If David wants the strike, give it to him."
"Right," Phillips said. "Not complicated."
He went out. Deva returned to his seat, and the coffee cup was back between his hands. The pads remained under the bench, their straps hanging loose.
Starc bowled the seventeenth. Phillips ran two towards wide third man, taking the score to 130 and leaving three runs to win. Warner defended the next delivery, then left one outside off. He had 65, Phillips 2. Three runs remained.
The noise from the orange stands had changed again. It was no longer the general roar that accompanied a boundary; it was a sustained, uneven sound, made up of people yelling at the bowler, at Warner, at each other, while a few tried to clap in rhythm. Deva could hear one man somewhere above the dugout repeatedly shouting Warner's name.
Arora took the eighteenth. The field was spread, with long-off and long-on standing on the rope. The bowler came in and landed a driving length on off stump.
Warner moved into the line, cleared his front leg and brought the full face of the bat through the ball. It travelled over long-off, high enough that the fielder could only turn and watch. The straight boundary was the longer one, but Warner had hit it cleanly, and the ball carried into the orange section.
For half a second, he stood with his bat high and watched its flight. Then he turned towards Phillips, who was already running to meet him.
The umpire signalled six.
Hyderabad had won by seven wickets, reaching 136 for 3 in the eighteenth over. Warner finished unbeaten on 71. Head had made 36, Klaasen had struck 20 from six balls, Abhishek had made four, and Phillips remained not out on two. Deva never needed to leave his seat for the innings.
Shastri's voice came over the speakers, nearly swallowed by the crowd.
"Warner, over long-off! Sunrisers Hyderabad have won the IPL 2024 final!"
He repeated the announcement, louder this time, but the ground had become too noisy to hear every word.
"Sixth title for Sunrisers Hyderabad," Bishop said, speaking over the sound.
In the Deva box, Aadhya let out a scream that sounded exactly like the one she made when she won at tag. Ivy and Indi joined in, both of them jumping so hard that Candice had to put a hand out to steady Indi before she bumped into the table.
Krithika had put her tea down somewhere and could not remember where. She was watching the players begin to run towards Warner. Candice had both hands in her hair and was laughing, though she was trying to say something to the children at the same time.
On the field, Warner raised his bat towards the dugout. Phillips came towards him, then Klaasen, and the rest followed. Deva stood to greet the players as they reached the boundary, accepting their embraces and the blows to his back that came with a win.
In the opposing box, Kavya was on her feet, no longer worrying at her thumb. She clapped until the first wave of players had crossed the boundary and then watched them disappear into the middle of their celebration. Shah Rukh applauded twice and turned to find his own players, who were beginning to leave the field.
Iyer walked towards Warner and shook his hand. He stayed with him for a moment, then looked past him towards the dugout, where Deva was waiting in shorts.
Warner was still talking as he walked. He seemed to have forgotten the cameras were close enough to catch every word. Phillips was laughing at something he said, and Klaasen had one arm around Abhishek's shoulders.
The scoreboard remained above them. KKR, 132 for 7. Hyderabad, 136 for 3.
In the next box, Sachin had not gone anywhere. He was standing near his chair, with Anjali beside him and Sara just behind. On the screen, Arjun appeared in the middle of the Hyderabad players, grinning as someone pulled him into a hug.
Sachin watched until the camera moved away.