All through the second week of October, Vishakhapatnam’s forecast shuffled between two shades of grey: rain, thunderstorm. The apps had a line of small cloud icons with lightning bolts underneath. Meteorologists on Twitter posted their heatmaps, those dark red rings gathering near the bend of India’s mid-eastern coast. Even the hourly forecast showed no reprieve.
Vizag - Vishakhapatnam’s snazzy, colonial shorthand - was hosting two India matches that week in the Women’s ODI World Cup. Light showers had forced Thursday’s match against South Africa into a delayed start, and now, Sunday’s game against Australia was under threat.
On Saturday afternoon, when we landed, Vizag was damp and humid. Rain was around but not intruding, not yet at least. At times, the sun peeked through the clouds, making the Bay of Bengal glisten and throw its reflection onto the cars sliding through the beach road that hugs the coastline. For someone neither religious nor superstitious, I was looking for way too many celestial omens. World Cup games within a short flight’s distance don’t come around too often. World Cup games against royalty, even less so.
I should confess now, in the safety of this post-game diary: I wore a snug India ODI shirt to the game, clapped and screamed for the women in blue, but watching Australia-W live was a bucket list item finally ticked off.
John Arlott, writing eighty years back, explained a phenomenon he called Australianism. “Where the impossible is within the realm of what the human body can do, there are Australians who believe they can do it,” he wrote, “and who have succeeded often enough to make us wonder if anything is impossible to them.”
For those of us raised on men’s cricket, we knew this meant Bradman, Benaud, Lillee, Border, Waugh, Warne, Ponting. Success as inevitability, dressed in canary yellow, zinc cream on the lips, top two shirt buttons undone.
But the women’s team is something else entirely. I am not a fan of describing empires by their kills, but sometimes, the trophy room is decked enough to serve as a foyer.
Before this game, Australia-W had played 383 ODIs in their history, stretching back to 1973, and won 306. In the 21st century, they had 204 wins in 252. Going even shorter, since 21st July 2017 - after a semi-final loss at the 2017 World Cup - their record read: 68 wins in 75. That’s a 90% win-rate over eight years.
Their competition in the GOAT-team debate is thin. Barca Femení, with 168 wins in 175 league games between 2019 and 2024, have a strong case. The South Korean women’s archery team, ten consecutive Olympic golds since 1988, sit alongside. But not much else, not even Jordan’s Chicago Bulls or Cruyff’s Barcelona.
And here’s the clincher: in nine Women’s T20 World Cups, Australia have won six. No other country has more than one. In twelve Women’s ODI World Cups, Australia have won seven. England are closest with three.
There’s absurdity, then there’s this.
The stands were filling as captain Alyssa Healy won the toss and chose to bowl. Behind us, two travellers from Brisbane - wearing yellow jerseys, southern cross painted on their cheeks - were already grinning about “the girls batting with the dew.” Overhead, the skies were clear, the bluest they had been for a few days. I kept looking up anyway, part reflex, part hope the weather wouldn’t turn.
The team announcements were given a spray of showbiz. Australia first. The names and faces of eleven superstars flashed in sequence while the intro riff of AC/DC’s Back in Black roared from the speakers. We were headbanging like this was a metal concert. Jordan and Pippen and Alan Parsons at the NBA Finals, meet Healy and Perry with Angus Young’s guitar.
India’s team announcement came with a typical fairy-petite Bollywood number, completely draining that moment of all its energy, then had to be halted for a sponsor announcement, and then resumed again, with nobody watching.
Before the first ball, the BCCI and Andhra Cricket Association joined hands to honour two cricketers from the state: Mithali Raj and Raavi Kalpana.
They named a stand after Mithali, long the torchbearer and oracle for Indian women’s cricket. For the unveiling, the emcee called over Jay Shah, President of the ICC, ex-president of the BCCI, and Lokesh Nara, MLA from the Telugu Desam Party. They pressed the button that split the garland curtain. Mithali was tucked behind five men in the frame, present but peripheral. It was Indian cricket at its most honest.
Smriti Mandhana and Pratika Rawal walked out to open. For all their runs and records in the last 18 months, the World Cup had triggered ambient chatter. Smriti was yet to score big runs; Pratika wasn’t scoring quick runs.
Smriti hit Kim Garth for a creamy cover drive to set the India innings in motion. If India were to post a remotely competitive total, the first ten overs had to be bountiful. The score at the end of 7 overs read: 26-0. There was comfort to be taken from the foundation, but the lack of urgency was concerning.
Australia brought on their first spinner of the day, Sophie Molineux, in the eighth over. Smriti went four, six, four. The shots felt like staggered sparks that set a fuse alight. From the other end, Pratika took on Ashleigh Gardner. 26 runs in 2 overs, and the scoreboard now flashed a more modern innings run-rate.
The crowd came alive. The decibel level on my friend’s smartwatch touched 100. We didn’t need external stimulation, but the DJ played “Chak De India” while the emcee screamed into the mic, at volumes guaranteed to give the audience lifelong tinnitus.
From there, Smriti and Pratika settled into rhythm, keeping the run-rate healthy and in gradual ascent.
Smriti reached her half-century, and soon crossed 5000 ODI runs - the quickest ever to get there in the women’s game. She’s just 29, young enough that the label of “great” feels premature, but it will come, inevitably. By the next five years, most ODI batting records will have Smriti Mandhana’s name on them.
Pratika reached her fifty with a lofted drive that was symmetric and picturesque and had about fifteen thousand people going, “oooooh”.
Near the halfway mark, they began to accelerate. More “Chak De.” More screaming from the emcee, who seemed to be on a pay-per-scream contract.
Then Molineux floated one up and Smriti holed out. 80 off 66 was an exceptional knock, and set the platform for a massive total. The ideal next step would’ve been to send someone adept at raising the tempo, or at least maintaining it. Maybe Harmanpreet or Jemimah, maybe even a sneaky Deepti or Richa, if they felt bold enough. India sent Harleen Deol, their usual number 3 - a very good batter but not a natural hitter - to partner Pratika Rawal, another technically sound batter without explosive instincts.
The next half an hour was a crawl. Starving these two of boundary balls and watching them freeze has been a running theme for months. And yet, the team management refuses to be agile. One Annabel Sutherland ball beat Pratika, then Alyssa Healy’s wicketkeeping gloves, and hit a stray helmet to give India 5 freebie runs. That was the only exciting cricket we’d seen for a bit.
Sutherland came back and got Pratika out to an excellent catch by Ellyse Perry in the deep. Pratika’s 75 had been wonderful to watch but borderline laborious in the final stretch, precisely when the needle had to lean hard right.
Harmanpreet arrived, ready to take the handbrakes off. She hit Megan Schutt for two crisp fours, and brought back a lot of memories, especially involving Australia. The last two times she played them at ODI World Cups: 171 not out and 57 not out. For a brief while, it felt like a third consecutive banger was in the making. But, Megan Schutt bowled it slow and short, and Harmanpreet hit it to the point fielder. Four balls later, Molineux bowled it slow and floaty, and this time, Harleen got tangled into the trap.
India were four down. Jemimah Rodrigues and Richa Ghosh were at the crease, with Deepti Sharma, Amanjot Kaur, and Sneh Rana behind them - enough, on paper, to build a large total. They just needed one of these five to go big. None could. Richa and Jemimah played lively cameos, sending the now-packed crowd to their feet every other ball, keeping the DJ’s fingers busy, but couldn’t build on their starts. Deepti, Amanjot, and Sneh didn’t stick around long enough to make a dent.
India lost their last six wickets for 36 runs. The collapse happened in a blur, before any of us could make sense of it. It felt like the Indian lower order was caught in a bout of confusion too. Many of their shots defied cricketing logic.
Annabel Sutherland finished with five wickets. Her spell was a masterclass in varying one’s bowling speeds to make the best of an otherwise batting-friendly pitch.
India finished with 330. It was a massive score. In fifty years of women’s ODI cricket, a 300+ total had been chased down just twice before. 330, never. There was ample, justified hope that India could defend this. And it was telling that hope was the boldest anyone got, that even a world-record target didn’t inspire broad-chested confidence against Healy and co.
I turned around for a vibe check. “If the girls in blue can, the girls in yellow most definitely can, mate.” Fair enough. This was John Arlott’s illustration, delivered in voice.
Phoebe Litchfield came out early for a warm-up and absolutely smoked the lobbed throwdowns. She hit one so hard the ball flew towards the Indian dugout, leading to sheepish smiles and raised hands.
Closer to the restart, Alyssa Healy strode out, no warm-ups necessary. Healy is as Australian as a batter could get: broad shoulders, Kookaburra Kahuna bat, a tight technique, feasts on the cut and the pull, and scores big runs. A lot of big, important runs. In the final of the last ODI World Cup, she scored 170 (!) against England. She was also the Player of The Tournament. In the final of the 2020 T20 World Cup, she scored 75 off 39 against India.
Healy flicked her first ball for a single; Litchfield smacked her first for a four. And they were off.
Like India, Australia were steady in the first half an hour without being overly aggressive. But India were setting a total. Australia were chasing a record score and the only sweat patches forming on their shirts were coming from a coastal city’s humidity. I looked below to find the Aussie physios and reserves sucking on iced candies. Oh, to be this chilled out.
The ball was already making an ominous sound off Healy’s bat. She was in the zone Twitter calls “locked in”. In the eighth over, captain Harmanpreet set Healy an off-side heavy field, packing it with close-in fielders and leaving lots of gaps on the leg side. The tactic was difficult to understand, because Kranti Goud, the bowler, prefers to bowl quick on a good length, and Healy loves to hang on her backfoot and deploy the cut or the pull. In other words, Harmanpreet was serving Healy her favourite food on bone china crockery.
Cue: six, four, four, four. Liftoff.
Goud was immediately replaced by Amanjot Kaur. Phoebe Litchfield tore into her, hitting four boundaries in five balls, forcing another bowling change. Harmanpreet then threw the ball to 21-year-old Shree Charani from Kadapa, a valley city nestled between the Eastern and Western Ghats, about 750 kilometres from the stadium she was about to bowl in.
It took Charani two deliveries to break the partnership and give India their first blow. The celebration was short-lived, because out strode Ellyse Perry - the most decorated women’s cricketer in history, Alyssa Healy’s childhood friend, and a former football world cup goalscorer while also an international cricketer.
In the first over after Litchfield’s wicket, Healy and Perry hit one four each. Resumption of the melody without missing a bar. The overs passed and the chase seemed to get easier, as if 330 was actually 250. As a cricket fan, it was impossible to take my eyes off the skill on display, but as someone who wanted India to land enough punches, it was exasperating. I looked at my friend, and we both muttered our f-bombs - not to anyone in particular, but to the situation playing out in front of us. We were just coping with collective speechlessness.
The DJ kept playing the chorus of Down Under by Men at Work, but they really could’ve just played some Chopin, given the hush and the serenity that had blanketed the ground.
At one point, a flock of little egrets circled the stadium, sketching a moving pattern of flattened inverted Ws, marking their attendance for this exhibition of greatness.
Remember when Smriti got out, and Pratika and Harleen couldn’t keep up the momentum? In the ten overs after Litchfield’s dismissal, Healy and Perry scored 60 runs, without having to heave or lunge. It was simple, effective, surgical.
In the middle of India’s tempest, Shree Charani’s figures read: 4 overs, one maiden, 8 runs, one wicket. The Australian batters, cavalier with everyone else, were treating her with utmost respect, aware of her guile and threat. Which was the exact point at which the captain decided that she needed a break.
Perry had to walk off due to a cramp, which brought Beth Mooney, fresh from a century midweek to rescue Australia from 115-8 against Pakistan. On the morning of the game, she was third on the list of international runs for the Australian women’s team, only behind Meg Lanning and Ellyse Perry.
Mooney hit Deepti Sharma hard and uppish on the off side; Jemimah Rodrigues caught the ball with a feline leap that had her parallel to the ground for a second. It was on par with a generally superb fielding effort by India. Next: Annabel Sutherland. Five wickets that afternoon, but not good enough with the bat for Charani’s flight and guile. Bowled.
The problem with this Australian batting lineup is that taking wickets doesn’t bring any relief, just more batters. It’s the proverbial tunnel with no end. Ashleigh Gardner walked in, on the back of a century in Australia’s tournament opener in Indore. On her seventh ball, she danced down to Shree Charani and sent the ball into the black cloaking behind the sightscreen. At the other end, Alyssa Healy completed her century. Inevitable, flawless, and tactically outstanding. Many stood up, everyone clapped. She celebrated with a four and six off Sneh Rana.
Below, Ellyse Perry was back to the dugout, thumping a rugby ball into the ground to fire her deltoids up. The cramp was gone, and she was ready to walk back in. No, seriously, where does one even go with this team?
Harmanpreet’s face revealed the state of the game. She was running out of options. By carrying only five bowlers, India had cornered themselves. There was no trump card, no one to turn to for variety. The even more worrying aspect of it all, regardless of the impending result, was that Australia had not spent a single delivery under pressure. They did not require a fourth gear, let alone a fifth. For a chase of this magnitude, its ease reflected poorly on India’s management of their resources.
Healy continued, Gardner added her share, and by the thirty-eighth over Australia needed a run a ball. The egrets had gone, and the crowd was beginning to slip out too. For many, it was a long drive back home and a workday the next morning. Besides, the air had gone cooler, the winds stronger, sign that the heavy clouds were lurking around. Thankfully, some stayed back, pulled by the magnetism of watching an impossibly good team make a difficult thing look ordinary.
Charani came on for a desperate last over, and got Healy out to a tired shot. Healy walked off, heavy-legged and drenched, 142 runs to her name and a standing ovation from the crowd.
Tahlia McGrath hit three fours in the wink of an eye and left. Sophie Molineux followed, hit a couple of fours, then left. Amanjot got Gardner too, which brought back Ellyse Perry to the crease. India were picking up some wickets, but only because Australia were playing shots. None of it mattered. Seven down, still about 28 to go, zero sweat. They still had Alana King in the dugout, not a batter but scored a half-century in the Pakistan game.
Perry and Kim Garth chased the 28 down without any more hiccups. Perry applied the coup de grace with an arrow-straight six.
The Indian team was deflated, but not shocked. No one was. And just as the two teams were shaking hands - quite a rare thing these days, I’m told - the clouds broke open. For all the threat of the past week, the timing of the rain was perfect - arriving after an incredible game had finished, pouring like confetti to celebrate the three-hour light and sound show from the women in electric yellow.
Postscript
Four days later, Australia played Bangladesh. Bangladesh scored 198; Australia chased it down in half-time, without losing a wicket. Healy scored another century. They have qualified for the semi-finals already.
India play England tonight, hoping to go high enough on the table to avoid Australia in the semi-finals.