The Star Sports studio in Mumbai sat high above the city traffic.
The room was lit in red and gold. A curved desk faced a large LED wall. On the wall, the ICC Men's Cricket World Cup trophy turned slowly against pictures of the ten grounds that would host the tournament.
The air-conditioning hummed. Around the desk, the talk was already hot.
Harsha Bhogle sat in the middle. To his right was Ricky Ponting. To his left, Ian Bishop, and beside him, Wasim Akram.
The red light on the main camera came on. Viewers tuned in from London pubs, Lahore tea stalls, Sydney living rooms, and the streets of Chennai.
"A very warm welcome, wherever you are joining us from," Harsha said. "We are a few days away. The 2023 ICC Men's Cricket World Cup is about to start. Six weeks. Ten teams. Forty-eight matches. One trophy."
He looked at his notes, then at the panel.
"Gentlemen, India is not one kind of pitch," Harsha said. "Flat batting tracks in Delhi. Turning tracks in Chennai. Swing and cooler air in Dharamshala. You have to adapt. Ricky, let's start with England. They changed white-ball cricket. They bat deep and they bat hard. How do they look in these conditions?"
Ponting leaned forward, hands on the desk.
"Look, Harsha, you can never count out Jos Buttler and his men," Ponting said. "They play fearless cricket. They want the game gone in the first fifteen overs. With Jonny Bairstow and Dawid Malan at the top, they will use the fielding restrictions. They don't just want fours. They want to break the bowler's rhythm."
He tapped a finger on the desk.
"But here is the catch. Aggression works when the ball comes onto the bat. What happens in Lucknow? What happens in Chennai, when the pitch is dry and the ball is gripping and turning? When Kuldeep Yadav or Rashid Khan is bowling, you cannot just muscle it through the covers. You need technique. You need to use your feet, play with soft hands, and rotate the strike. If England's top order tries to slog their way out of a spin choke, they will collapse. The middle order — Liam Livingstone, Moeen Ali — have to show they can grind when the boundaries dry up. If they cannot play the turning ball, they will not make the semi-finals."
"A fair point," Ian Bishop said. "You have to respect the pitch. You cannot just impose your will on it. But Ricky, let's talk about your boys. Australia. They find another gear in ICC events. It is in their culture."
"It's tournament cricket, Ian," Ponting said. "When you put on that yellow jersey in a World Cup, you are expected to perform. Pat Cummins is a calm leader. What makes Australia dangerous is their balance. Mitchell Starc, left-arm, swinging the new ball back into the right-handers. If Starc gets it right in the powerplay, he can take the top off before the fifth over. Then you have Adam Zampa in the middle overs."
"Zampa is key," Wasim Akram said. "He attacks the stumps. On Indian pitches, if a leg-spinner bowls stump-to-stump, lbw and bowled are always in play. You do not give the batsman room to free his arms."
"Exactly, Wasim," Ponting said. "And the batting. David Warner is playing his last World Cup. He will want to leave a mark. Glenn Maxwell is the wildcard. If Maxwell sees twenty balls, no total is safe. Australia know how to pace a fifty-over innings. They know when to absorb pressure and when to counter-attack. They are a handful in knockouts."
Harsha turned to Wasim.
"Wasim bhai. Pakistan. A side that brings joy, flair, and, let's be honest, heartbreak. Unpredictable is their trademark. Babar Azam is captain. What are their prospects?"
Wasim sighed. He smiled, fond and a little frustrated.
"Pakistan's strength has always been their fast bowling," he said. "Shaheen Shah Afridi. When he runs in with the new ball, the wrist snaps at release. That late inswinger to the right-hander is a nightmare. You pair him with Haris Rauf, who hits the deck hard at 150, and Naseem Shah, who has pace and a clean seam. If that trio take early wickets, Pakistan can defend any total on any ground."
He sat back.
"But Harsha, the batting is the worry. Babar Azam and Mohammad Rizwan are top class. They build the innings. They play proper cricket shots. If they get out early, the middle order is thin. It does not have enough hitting. You cannot rely on your openers to make eighty every match. In modern fifty-over cricket, you need a number five and number six who can walk out in the fortieth over and score at a run a ball without throwing it away. If Pakistan are chasing three hundred against a tight attack, I worry about the lower middle order."
---
"It all comes down to handling pressure," Harsha said. "And when we talk about pressure, we have to talk about the hosts."
The screen behind the panel turned blue.
"India," Harsha said. "Gentlemen, the record is clear. India won the 2019 World Cup in England. They are the defending champions. But it is more than the trophy. Under Siddanth Deva, this Indian side has not lost a bilateral series — home or away — in any format since that 2019 final. They won the Border-Gavaskar Trophy in Australia. They won in England. They swept the Asia Cup under Virat Kohli captaincy."
He looked around the panel. "They are at home. They have the crowd. They know the pitches. Are they untouchable?"
"Nobody is untouchable on a given Sunday," Ian Bishop said. "But Harsha, this Indian team covers every base. Rohit Sharma and Shubman Gill at the top — timing and footwork. Virat Kohli at number three, still the man you want in a chase. The bowling: Jasprit Bumrah, Mohammed Shami, Kuldeep Yadav."
Bishop paused and looked at the camera.
"But the side is built around one man. The number four. The captain."
Harsha nodded and tapped a button on the desk. "Let's look at the numbers. Sometimes the numbers say it better than we can."
The screen filled with gold text.
The four men on the desk turned to look.
**SIDDANTH DEVA — CAREER STATISTICS (AS OF OCT 2023)**
- Total International Runs: 43,389
- Total International Wickets: 1,347 (Tied #1 All-Time World Record)
- Total International Centuries: 154 (66 Test, 79 ODI, 9 T20I)
**ODI**
- Matches: 250
- Runs: 19,637
- Average: 119.74
- Centuries: 79
- Wickets: 527
- Best Bowling: 6/18
**TEST**
- Matches: 183
- Runs: 15,478
- Average: 96.74
- Centuries: 66
- Wickets: 522
- Best Bowling: 10/24
**T20I**
- Matches: 150
- Runs: 8,274
- Average: 87.09
- Centuries: 9
- Wickets: 298
Ricky Ponting stared at the screen. A man with more than thirteen thousand Test runs of his own, he shook his head.
"It shouldn't be possible," Ponting said. The TV polish dropped. This was a former captain looking at a scorecard. "Harsha, look at those numbers. A Test average of 96.74 over one hundred and eighty-three matches. We spent decades talking about Don Bradman's 99.94. Siddanth Deva has kept that standard for fifteen years, in every country."
He pointed at the ODI line. "An average of 119.74 in One Day Internationals. Seventy-nine hundreds in two hundred and fifty matches. A hundred in almost every third innings. As an opposing captain, how do you set a field for that? Bowl full, he comes forward and drives you down the ground. Bowl short, he rocks back and pulls you into the stands. There is no hole in his game."
"And that is just the batting," Bishop said, pointing at the wickets. "Look at the bowling. One thousand, three hundred and forty-seven international wickets. Tied with Muttiah Muralitharan for the most in the history of the game. A fast bowler, at 150+ kilometres an hour, taking ten in a Test innings, fit enough to take more than five hundred ODI wickets."
Bishop let out a breath.
"He is Garfield Sobers, Sachin Tendulkar, and Malcolm Marshall in one player. He has rewritten the record books."
Harsha turned to Wasim. The old bowler was looking at the screen with a tired smile.
"Wasim bhai. You know fast bowling. You know batting under pressure. When the other dressing room looks at Siddanth Deva, what is the talk?"
Wasim put his elbows on the desk.
"Harsha, to you, to the fans, to the people in this studio, he is the greatest of all time. Technique. Seam position. Weight on the front foot. Reading the pitch."
He looked into the camera.
"But to the men in the other dressing room — to the fast bowlers who have to run in and hit a length, knowing that if they miss their line the ball is going into the second tier — he is not just a cricketer."
He leaned into the microphone.
"As Ravi Shastri said after his innings in 2009 he is the Devil of Cricket. He is a nightmare. I have spoken to bowlers from Australia, from England, from my own country. They do not sleep the night before they play him. He does not just beat you. He takes your confidence. He watches your release, he reads your grip on the seam, and he plays your stock ball as if he has seen it already."
Wasim shook his head.
"When Siddanth Deva walks out to bat, or when he takes the new ball at the top of his mark, the other side stops thinking about winning. They start thinking about surviving. And in a World Cup, if you are playing for survival against the Indian captain, you have already lost."
The studio went quiet.
"The Devil of Cricket," Harsha said. "He holds the records. He holds the trophy. He holds the high ground. The 2023 World Cup is here. And the world is asking: can anyone beat him?"
---
October 4, 2023. Ahmedabad, Gujarat.
The Narendra Modi Stadium — the NAMO Stadium — held one hundred and thirty-two thousand. The stands ran to the horizon. Concrete and steel, built for big days.
Today the stands were empty. Inside the press hall, journalists from around the world packed the seats. Cameras flashed.
On a raised stage at the front sat ten armchairs in a semicircle.
In the middle sat the ICC Men's Cricket World Cup Trophy, gold and silver under the lights.
The ten captains sat in their team blazers. The tournament was close. The smiles were polite. The legs were crossed.
At a podium to the side stood Ravi Shastri.
"A very warm welcome to the global media, and welcome to the ten captains who carry the hopes of millions — and in some cases, billions — on their shoulders," Shastri said. "We are on the eve of the 2023 World Cup. The warm-ups are done. The work is done. Let's hear from the men in the middle."
He turned to the right of the stage.
"Babar," Shastri said. Babar Azam, in the dark green blazer, offered a shy smile. "Your team has been in Hyderabad for the warm-ups. First time playing in India. Much has been said about the tension. How have you found the hospitality — and, more important, the Hyderabadi biryani?"
The room chuckled.
Babar smiled and picked up his microphone. He spoke softly. "The hospitality has been fantastic, Ravi bhai. From the moment we landed, the staff, the security, the local fans — it has felt like home. As for the biryani… we have had it every day. The fast bowlers say they are getting heavy, but it is too good to stop. We are enjoying our time here, and we hope to play some good cricket for this crowd."
"Excellent," Shastri said. He turned to the left. "Pat Cummins. You are leading Australia into a World Cup in India. The conditions are tough, the heat is high, but the biggest factor might be the crowd. Are you intimidated by the hosts in front of one hundred and thirty thousand in this stadium?"
Pat Cummins leaned back in his chair. He did not look worried.
"Not at all, Ravi," Cummins said. "As an Australian cricketer, you grow up wanting these games. The bigger the crowd, the louder the noise, the better. We know Indian fans will back their boys to the hilt. But there is a good feeling in walking into a ground of a hundred thousand and shutting them up with a spell of fast bowling. We like the noise. We like the fight. We wouldn't want to play a World Cup anywhere else."
Shastri nodded. He spoke to Kane Williamson about his injury recovery, and to Jos Buttler about carrying England's white-ball game. The talk was respectful.
Then the room changed.
The journalists went quiet. The shutters fired faster.
Ravi Shastri turned to the middle of the stage.
Siddanth Deva sat in the dark blue BCCI blazer, the crest over his heart. Ankles crossed. Hands on the armrests. Eyes still.
"Siddanth," Shastri said. "You are the defending champions. You have not lost a bilateral series in four years. You are at home, and you carry 1.4 billion people with you. The media calls it suffocating pressure. The fans want the trophy and nothing else. How are you and your squad handling that as we head into the first match?"
The room went silent. The other nine captains turned to look at him.
Deva did not grab the microphone. He let the pause sit for three seconds.
Then he picked it up.
"Ravi Bhai," Deva said. "There is a misunderstanding about pressure."
He leaned forward a little and looked across the journalists.
"Pressure is not an anchor. Pressure is a privilege. When 1.4 billion people expect you to win, it is because they have watched you do the job for fifteen years. They do not hope we win. They know we have the technique, the discipline, and the bowling to win."
He turned his head and looked at the other nine captains.
"My squad does not feel suffocated, Ravi bhai. We are playing in our own conditions. We know these pitches. We know these grounds. We are comfortable."
He turned back to the media.
"Quite frankly," Deva said, pointing at the trophy in the middle of the stage, "the pressure is not on us to defend that cup. The pressure is on the other nine men sitting here to come into our backyard, play our spinners, survive our fast bowlers, and take it away from us. I wish them the best of luck."
It was a sledge in a blazer.
The hall broke. Journalists typed. The headline had just written itself.
On the stage, the other captains took it as it was meant.
Pat Cummins threw his head back and laughed. Kane Williamson chuckled behind his hand. Jos Buttler smiled and raised an eyebrow. The gauntlet was down.
They were not insulted. They were captains. They knew Deva was not only talking to the press. He was setting the tone before a ball had been bowled.
"A statement of intent from the Indian captain!" Shastri said over the noise. "Gentlemen, please step forward for the official photograph."
The ten captains stood.
They walked to the centre of the stage and gathered around the trophy. Photographers called names and asked them to look left and right.
Deva stood behind the cup. He buttoned his blazer with one hand.
The press work was done.
The lights and the shouting faded. He was already thinking about lengths, fields, and the first session.
The squad was picked. The plans were set. The studio had talked about his record. The other captains had heard the challenge.
The 2023 World Cup was here.
And the Devil was ready to play.