A Big 6, a Dubious Umpiring Decision and a Jar of Pickles 🏏
At 25, brimming with misplaced confidence, my partner and I opened our own law firm.
The first few days felt like a ghost town —just us, tapping our fingers on our desks, waiting for the phone to ring.
A week in, a burly gentleman with an angry expression entered our chambers.
“My boys played beautifully,” he said in between gulps of chai. “They don’t deserve this.”
We leaned in and listened.
He was the manager of private cricket club that had just been knocked out in the semi-finals of a local cricket tournament.
“Barrister saab,” he began, “it was the final over, and we needed 5 runs to win. Second last ball—our last man, left-arm fast bowler, hit a big 6 over mid-wicket.”
His eyes widened as he clutched a biscuit.
“So then?” I asked. “What happened?”
“The umpire signalled a 6, but then the fielder claimed it bounced inside the boundary. The umpire reversed the call to a 4. We protested but had to continue. Next ball—clean bowled. We lost the match. The boys are devastated.”
“Barrister saab, I want to file a case. I need justice for my boys!”
I remember having to pinch myself to keep a straight face.
Years of law school, pupillages and work experience led to this—my first case, a disputed boundary decision in a local cricket match.
We didn’t exactly have clients banging down our doors, so we took the brief.
Framed it as a breach of contract.
Our argument:
• The tournament fee formed a binding agreement.
• ICC rules of cricket were implied terms of the contract.
• Impartial umpiring was a legitimate expectation.
• The umpire's reversal of the “6” was arbitrary, unfounded and baseless
• Our clients faced irreparable harm unless the final was halted with an immediate stay order
We filed it before a dumbfounded Senior Civil Judge.
The case was admitted and the organisers were served with a summons.
Shaken by the legal action, they quickly folded and agreed to a rematch.
A few days later, our client returned, beaming and triumphant.
“Barrister saab, the boys and I are deeply grateful,” he said, pulling a blue plastic bag from behind his back.
“We can’t pay you fees, but please accept this as a token of our appreciation,” he said, placing a jar of achaar on my desk.
“It’s homemade.”
That case taught me something invaluable: every client, big or small, needs someone to listen, strategize, and fight for them.
It’s a principle I’ve carried throughout my legal career, even though I have never since accepted pickles as payment.
What's your early, memorable client story?
Drop it in the comments below 👇🏼
