Captain Braveheart

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Depression fell like a pall upon The Wanderers as the light started to fade. Silence followed, broken only by dismayed chatter in the stands previously full of roars, as a packed ground realised that the match was not going according to plan. Supporters had come to rejoice and now found themselves at a funeral.

Far from marching confidently into the next round, the hosts were facing defeat and the humiliation of an early exit. Hopes had been so high. South Africa had been playing so well and stood top of the rankings. Only the Australians could beat them.

Loudspeakers belted out a song called 'You ain't seen nothing yet', and alarmed locals hoped it was true. Spectators had roared for their team, yet the players had been unable to respond. Regular breaks made matters worse, because the score cried across the ground. The South Africans were in serious trouble.

Stephen Fleming was the cause of the prevailing depression. After the locals had reached a formidable and apparently unassailable total, the tall, calm left-hander opened the innings and stroked the ball around so well that soon the score was rattling along. Somehow he managed to keep one eye upon the gathering clouds and two upon the ball as he produced the innings of his career when his team most needed it. None of the bowlers could contain the New Zealand captain, certainly not Allan Donald, whose overs were punished. Donald was treated in the rudest manner by his opponents and suffered the indignity of being driven back over his head. In his pomp, batsmen did not hit him for straight sixes, not even in their dreams. There are few happy endings in cricket. Ask Shane. Ask Jonty.

Fleming played a lovely innings, scoring swiftly without appearing to rush. Fertile off his pads, he repeatedly stroked the ball away with a roll of the wrist, and now and then lent back to place the ball through mid-wicket with a straight bat. Makhaya Ntini worried him the most with deliveries cutting across him, and Fleming fished a few times without catching anything. South Africa could not blame the quota system for its predicament for Ntini bowled as well as anyone whilst Hershelle Gibbs dominated the home team's effort by hitting 143 in 141 deliveries, an innings that had seemed decisive till Fleming began the chase.

Fleming did edge once whereupon Mark Boucher dropped a sitter. Jacques Kallis could hardly believe his luck. Otherwise, the Kiwi captain did not put a foot or hair out of place in an unruffled display that precisely met the requirements of the situation. Fleming was not flustered by the size of the target or a long interruption as power was lost in the ground, a fate suffered some time earlier by the home attack. Apart from peering quizzically at the umpires as the rain fell, he did not betray any emotion till he opened the face of his bat once again to guide the ball to third man to reach three figures. Even as he set off down the pitch, Fleming was raising his arms and punching the air. By the standards set by Brett Lee, it was not much of a celebration but it told of inner satisfaction.

Soon afterwards the players left the field which gave Fleming time to reflect upon his performance, and his counterpart a chance to ponder upon his inability to stem the flow of runs. At last the rains relented and officials did their calculations and announced that New Zealand needed to score only another 44 runs in 51 balls with 9 wickets left to fall.

Suddenly a remote total was within his team's grasp. Fleming moved serenely on, passing his highest score in one-day internationals. After losing the first match, Fleming must have feared for his team's prospects, especially as he had chosen the wrong team and had a poor game, tactically. Rather than lose heart he set about putting matters right, guided his side to victory over the West Indies and followed it with this nerveless display. Adversity had been met and mastered.

South Africa is suffering. New Zealand is alive and well. The hosts fielded a brilliant opening batsman. The Kiwis had a fine opener and an inspiring captain in the elegant, resolute figure of their captain. Both teams realise they must overcome the Australians. The hosts fear they might not get the chance. Fleming hit the winning runs and shook hands. He had stroked 134 runs in 132 balls. His team looked happy and now might persuade its Board to let them play in Kenya after all.

Apparently, most of them want to go. New Zealand has a fine record in the World Cup but knows this chance might not come again, or not for this committed team anyhow.