When Amol Muzumdar set a world record on debut

I remember it precisely - February 12, 1994. It was the day I made my first-class debut, in the pre-quarterfinal of the Ranji Trophy. We were missing Sachin Tendulkar, Vinod Kambli, Sanjay Manjrekar and Salil Ankola at the time, as they had been called up for the New Zealand series.

Prior to this game, every time they announced a team, I was included in the squad but not in the XI; instead, I was sent to play for the Under-19s. Although that made me unhappy, I never showed it. It was a good build-up - it kept a fire burning inside me.

That year, we had won the U-19 tournament after a long gap. I had captained the side and got a hundred in each innings of the final. Just prior to my Ranji debut, we had also played the MA Chidambaram Trophy against a Rest of India U-19 team that had the likes of VVS Laxman and Hrishikesh Kanitkar. I had got a hundred in the second innings of that game, where we came close to chasing 426.

I was picked to play for the India U-19s against a touring Australia U-19 side, so I had to make a decision whether I wanted to play in that match, or show up for the Ranji pre-quarterfinal. Luckily, Ravi Shastri, who was the Mumbai captain at the time, had given me a message seven days prior that I would be batting at No. 4 for Mumbai in that game. So the decision was a no-brainer - playing for Mumbai was my dream.

Ravi Shastri was a towering figure, and the Mumbai dressing room could be daunting at times. As a youngster I might have felt a little nervous, but thankfully I was too preoccupied to be bothered by it. Besides, it was a breakthrough season for a lot of other guys in the Mumbai team. The team had gone through a transition and most of us - Sairaj Bahutule, Jatin Paranjpe and Paras Mhambrey, to name a few - were making our debuts in that season or had just broken into the squad in the previous season. We had all played together previously and this made things more comfortable.

When Ravi handed me my Mumbai cap on that cold Faridabad morning, it was a special feeling. After putting in years of hard work, I felt like I had accomplished something.

We won the toss and elected to bat. I had a routine: I would put my pads on and then wear my cap, with my gloves resting on my thighs. I also had a habit of walking around the dressing room and skipping for a bit. I watched the game but - I can say it easily 23 years later - I never liked to talk about cricket. I followed this routine that day, and was talking about other things with Paras - who was also my room-mate - while waiting to go in.

Just after the drinks break, Sunil More got out and I walked out to the crease. I was nervous, but fully aware of what was happening around me. I defended the first two balls from the offspinner Pankaj Thakur, and stepped out to the third, driving it past cover for three runs. Jatin was at the other end, and he said later that he had crossed his legs - a superstition - when I was on strike. He was hoping everything went right for me on debut. It seemed to have worked, as I went on to score 260, which remains the world record for the highest first-class score on debut. You don't just go and snatch world records unless you are Brian Lara. It just so happened that everything went right that day.

When I was close to my hundred on the second day, Ravi was batting with me. He pepped me up a little bit when I got to 90, when I was, understandably, a little nervous. He said, "Just graft these 10 runs. Once you get them, I can guarantee the next 30 will flow like a river."

I have a habit of keeping snapshots in my mind. I can usually picture the exact place and moment that something happened. I recall taking a cab - a kilometre or two into town - to find an STD booth to call my dad. I was on top of the world when I told him about my hundred. I needed somebody to keep me grounded and my dad was the perfect person. He reminded me how I had got into the Mumbai team after a long wait.

"Now that you are batting on hundred, don't let go of it," he said. "Even when the stars come back, make sure your place is there."

That kept ringing in my ears constantly and I just carried on. By tea, I was batting on 197 and a scorer reminded me about Gundappa Viswanath's record of 230 on debut. There wasn't much cricket in Faridabad at the time and people kept coming into the dressing room. So I asked Kaddu bhai (Karsan Ghavri), my senior, if he could keep them away. I didn't want to be rude, but I needed to be in my zone. I think Clive Lloyd had been at the game too. He had come to meet Ravi and seen my innings, but had left before I came in at tea.

At the end of the second day, I was not out on 245. After play, I was sitting quietly in my chair and letting it all sink in. I remember Ravi coming in, putting his arm around my shoulders and saying, "How are you feeling now, young man?" Ravi was my hero and I was thrilled at that moment. It is another one of my precious snapshots.

That night, BCCI president IS Bindra saab might have visited because his secretary was around and asked me if I knew I had made a world record. My reaction was: "Really? Can I tell my parents about it?"

After the 260, the press was all over the shop. There were about three or four centuries scored in that innings and we had quite a tall score. Jatin and Ravi got hundreds as well. We only batted once and bowled them out twice to win by a huge margin.

I used a SG Sunny Tonny bat that day. I only played four games with it and retired it after we won the Ranji Trophy that year. As a batsman, you tend to use your luckiest or most precious bats for a long time, but I said to myself, "This bat has given me recognition. It now goes in the vault."