Two days before the first Test, India were out in full force at Newlands in what proved to be their final practice session before the game. During those three hours, several batsmen were seen visualizing leaving the ball.

At times, they also put theory into practice as assistant coach Sanjay Bangar painstakingly helped them with throw-downs.

Murali Vijay: check.
Virat Kohli: check.
Cheteshwar Pujara: check.
Even the one who didn’t play, Ajinkya Rahane: check.

Two hours later, when told of this preparation on match-eve, Vernon Philander sat laughing. “They have been practicing leaving, visualizing a lot, but the key here at Newlands isn’t how to play the short ball. It is more the moving ball that troubles you,” he had said, throwing down the gauntlet to this much-hyped visiting no.1 contingent.

***

It is strange how fate contrives to impact cricket timelines. Sure, South Africa took on a grave risk by playing a batsman short, or indeed playing a four-pronged fast bowling line-up despite the awareness that one of them could be injured. In both scenarios, the hosts were tested.

By triggering two top-order collapses in two innings, India’s bowling threat materialized into reality. Simultaneously, the Proteas lost Dale Steyn. The summation was in a target of 208 runs.

“We either needed someone to go get 70-80 runs or we needed every partnership to contribute 30-40 runs. It didn’t happen,” lamented Kohli afterwards. It was simplistic calculation at its best, complicated only by the demerit of India’s naivety against the moving ball.

Placed at 30/0, India had started well off. Philander had started proceedings from the Wynberg End. Nothing was out of ordinary; for having grown up here in Cape Town, Philander knew that the match hadn’t slipped from South Africa’s grasp just yet.

The Monday crowd at Newlands perhaps felt differently. There was a hush of anticipation; just like on the morning session of day two during India’s innings, they were waiting for the first wicket to fall.

On that day, bowling from the same end, Philander had bowled five overs on the trot to Rohit Sharma, without conceding a run. Play and miss, rinse, repeat – it was Sharma’s mantra to survive as Philander had pitched at the same spot again and again, then again, and yet again.

The differentiation to this fourth day was perhaps in the pitch. On day two, it was still sharp enough. Despite a bit of rain on day three, never mind Monday’s 8-for-65 mayhem, it seemed easy-paced in the afternoon. Perhaps it was the loss of momentum, that punch in the gut from not having raked up 350 as was South Africa’s initial plan. Their body language wasn’t ‘down and out’ but it seemed to be more on the lookout for inspiration.

Ordinarily, Faf du Plessis would have just thrown the ball to their talisman, and watched Steyn pump it up with the crowd roaring behind his back. On this day, they had to do it without him. Philander is different from Steyn. He bowls from a shorter run-up. He doesn’t bustle in like a steaming train coming on to crush you, instead he quietly tiptoes to the crease.

This isn’t ‘heavy metal’ pace; it is symphony of movement – the arc away from the batsman, or alternately, into him. Go figure how to play, if you even can! Vijay couldn’t. For all his visualisation, he couldn’t comprehend the away movement of Philander’s deliveries. Maybe, it was to do with a more ‘open minded’ approach; standing tall at the crease, looking ‘intent on scoring’ runs as the Indian skipper puts it.

The Kohli wicket

Vijay has made a career out of a patient approach at the crease, but he betrayed that core thinking to South Africa’s benefit at Newlands. Kohli couldn’t, either. For all his frailties outside the off stump, his was the key wicket.

This is a batsman who doesn’t play for time – Kohli will tick off runs quicker than you can click his pictures at the crease. His partnership with Rohit Sharma – 32 off 56 balls – almost threatened to take the game away from South Africa.

Almost, much to the chagrin of Indian cricket fans, is the keyword, herein. Just prior to the drinks’ break in the extended second session, Rabada and Morkel were bowling in tandem. There was a feeling of unease about that last passage of play; still it wasn’t a matter of urgency. It was more in line with now-or-never. This is the thing about paltry totals – they are slipper buggers.

Having gambled heavily in this Test, du Plessis didn’t want to place one more risky wager. And so he banked on a sure bet, handing Philander the ball again, this time from the Kelvin Grove End. Philander bowled 15 deliveries before he struck. 12 of them were to Kohli.

Outside off pushed towards point; left alone; inside edge to mid-wicket; pushed to point; left alone; then again; and again; pushed to point; forward defense; and again; left alone – do you know what was common with these deliveries? They were all pitched at the same spot, outside the off-stump, angled to move away from the batsman, short enough for him to fend them, not full enough for Kohli to drive them away. It was maddening consistency, hair-splitting even. How do you fend off a bowler who doesn’t give you an inch?

“He will always pitch the ball in those areas of uncertainty and get the ball to seam both ways. You have to be at your best, every ball, every over,” the Indian skipper said later on.

Kohli wasn’t, at his best. Philander’s 13th delivery to him impressed on ‘both ways’, an obvious set-up coming to fruition. The ball nipped back off the pitch and thudded into his pads. The bowler ran all the way down the pitch, arms raised, only bothering to look behind in accordance with ICC laws – it was plumb, Kohli was out.

It was game, set, match as the Indian lower-order self obliterated under pressure.

***

Half an hour after the match ended, the local sports channel’s studio was still raving about the win.

Just beyond, sat a bunch of young men, innumerable pints and glasses of beers in hand of course, talking and singing of the heroics they had just witnessed.

Philander walked in for a word with the media. Just before entering the pavilion, they sang to him, together. ‘Hey, Vernon, Vernon, Hey!’ He waved back at them, flashing a gleeful smile, having walked the pre-match talk on ‘his’ home turf.