Why these three Tests will stay with me forever

Dubai: I’ve been fortunate to witness some unforgettable Test matches over the decades, but only a select few have truly etched themselves into memory. The recently concluded Oval Test between India and England joins that rare group — not necessarily for the stakes, but for the sheer drama, character, and tension that defines the best of Test cricket. But long before this London thriller, it was Chennai that gave me two of the most cherished chapters of my cricket-watching life.

My first brush with Test cricket came at the M.A. Chidambaram Stadium in the late 1970s. As school kids, our Pongal holidays often coincided with the January Tests, and Chepauk became our playground and pilgrimage. I saw legends come alive: Vishwanath’s silken century against the West Indies in 1979, Laxman Sivaramakrishnan’s dream spell as a teenager, Srikkanth’s daredevil ton against Imran Khan’s Pakistan, and Dilip Vengsarkar felled by a bouncer from Bob Willis. But the match that first made time stand still was the tied Test in 1986.

I was in the stands for all five days. Dean Jones, barely able to stand in the Chennai heat, made 210. Allan Border and David Boon chipped in with centuries, and India, reeling at 142 for 4, found a lifeline in Kapil Dev’s defiant hundred. Greg Matthews, with his sweater on in 40 degree Celsius heat, took ten wickets across the match. On the final day, India were set a target of 348 and went for it with purpose. Ravi Shastri guided the chase with support from the lower order, but a flurry of wickets brought last man Maninder Singh to the crease.

The final moments are etched in my mind forever — Shastri signalling “no” for a run, and umpire Vikramraju’s finger going up. A second tied Test in cricket history. Matthews leapt in celebration; the Chennai crowd stood stunned, then applauded. It wasn’t about the result. It was about the spectacle.

Fast forward to 1999. Again in Chennai. Again a classic — this time between India and Pakistan. Shahid Afridi’s counter-attacking 141 in the second innings stunned India, and Sachin Tendulkar played perhaps his most defiant knock: a 136 with a bad back, single-handedly keeping the chase alive. Nayan Mongia gave him brief support, but once he fell, the Indian innings unravelled. India lost by just 12 runs. Saqlain Mushtaq took 10 wickets in the match, and the Chennai crowd — gracious as ever — gave the victorious Pakistan team a standing ovation.

Those two Tests weren’t just about cricket. They were about emotion, atmosphere, and shared history. They shaped my understanding of the format — not as a slow grind, but as a simmering pot that eventually boils over.

The Oval Test of 2025, with Siraj’s five-for and a tense six-run finish, evoked similar feelings. India, without Jasprit Bumrah, leaned on resilience. The crowd held its breath. The final hour brought back memories of Shastri and Maninder, of Tendulkar wincing in pain, of spectators on the edge of their seats.

Three Tests, across three decades. Different players, different conditions, but the same essence: Test cricket at its finest. And every time I watch such a match, I feel like that young boy at Chepauk again — wide-eyed, breathless, and completely in love with the game.