The straw-coloured green-top

Several reporters arrived in Nagpur with their heads full of dramatic thoughts about the pitch at the Vidarbha Cricket Association Stadium and it would have been understandable had they sued for anti-climax. Reports about the greenness of the pitch had nearly toppled the little big man's tennis elbow as the main story in the sports pages. When the reporters saw it for themselves, there was grass, but it was straw-coloured, not green.

Cricket associations in Indian regard the playing square as a nuclear installation and every reporter is deemed a security threat. But from a distance, the pitch looked normal: it was boringly rectangular and the distance between stumps at either end a predictable 22 yards. What's more, there were no cracks wide enough to drop keys into, nor did it seem likely that devils would arise from beneath it on the third day.

In this series so far, the pitches have come under severe scrutiny. But apparently, the pitches haven't been made privy to the plot, and accordingly, they have belied expectations. The earth at the M Chinnaswamy Stadium in Bangalore was riddled with cracks, provoking predictions that Anil Kumble would make short work of Australia. Australia ran up 474 in the first innings and pitch stayed firm till the last day. Then, on the supposedly flat MA Chidambaram stadium pitch, Kumble did take a seven-for on the first day.

And now, in Nagpur, just the slightest touch of grass on the pitch has set tongues wagging. The pitch looks far from frightening. There aren't tufts of grass, or a consistent carpet, that could give a cricket ball, - even hurled at great speed - the exaggerated movement, vertically or horizontally, that will force a false shot.

But what of those reams of newspaper and gallons of ink spent describing the pitch? Was it all smoke, no fire? One former Indian cricketer said, "This is a not a paata wicket, but might well pay like one." A paata, for the uninitiated, is a pitch that makes bowlers weep, while batsmen notch up best-ever scores and rack up records like statisticians were being banned overnight. Even a man who will be forced to bat in the next few days laughed when the possibility of the pitch being green was raised. "Green-top? If you just got your eye in, even you would make 30-40 on this pitch," he said. When a cricketer concedes that even a journalist may make the odd run on a pitch, you know that there's nothing to fear for the real batsmen.

Bring on the mullet-haired fast men. Bring on the record-breaking spinners. This is Nagpur, the city of oranges. You can eat a Jaffa here. But serving one up will be an entirely different matter.