Highest run chase in odi: All-time successful chases

The highest successful run chase in ODI history is South Africa’s 438/9 against Australia at Johannesburg’s Wanderers Stadium, overhauling 434 in a match that rewired what one-day batting could be.

All-time leaders at a glance

• South Africa 438/9 chasing 435 vs Australia, Johannesburg (Wanderers)
• South Africa 372/6 chasing 372 vs Australia, Durban (Kingsmead)
• India 362/1 chasing 360 vs Australia, Jaipur (Sawai Mansingh)
• England 359/4 chasing 359 vs Pakistan, Bristol
• Australia 359/6 chasing 359 vs India, Mohali (PCA)

Why the biggest run chase in ODI history still matters

The scale of a chase changes the entire language of a one-day game. Field settings become negotiations. Bowling plans disintegrate under dew or thin air. A misfield that costs two in the 12th over becomes an earthquake by the 47th. The best batters shape time itself: slow the panic, accelerate on demand, and bring a dressing room with them. The highest ODI chase distills every modern white-ball idea—powerplay aggression, middle-overs control, risk-calibrated finishing—into one intoxicating, precarious arc.

Owning this record is a cultural landmark. South Africa’s 438 remains the north star. It began as a dare and ended as a rewrite of limits. Every enormous chase since, from 350 strolls to late-overs heists, lives in that shadow.

All-time top chases: what the numbers actually say

These matches are not just scores; they’re strategic documents. Read them properly and you see patterns repeating: the early-swing sighter, the acceleration window after the first spells end, the overs that must not be surrendered to control bowlers, the handover points where set batters cash in.

A compact canonical list

• 438/9 South Africa vs Australia, Johannesburg

  Target to win: 435; result sealed in the final over. Altitude, a postage-stamp square boundary on one side, and relentless batting created the perfect storm.

• 372/6 South Africa vs Australia, Durban

  Target to win: 372; dead surface came alive under lights. A modern blueprint chase: fast starts, anchored middle, cold-blooded finish.

• 362/1 India vs Australia, Jaipur

  Target to win: 360; a top-three masterclass. Swing neutralized early; seam dragged into the outfield; spinners defanged by precise, inside-out hitting.

• 359/4 England vs Pakistan, Bristol

  Target to win: 359; England’s white-ball engine humming at its peak. Openers absorbed movement, then bathed in length errors. Finishing line crossed in a canter.

• 359/6 Australia vs India, Mohali

  Target to win: 359; a chase that restored Australia’s modern chasing credentials. Calculated middle-overs lift, then a finisher’s sledgehammer.

Highest ODI chase, World Cup edition

The game’s biggest stage has its own gravity. Scoreboard pressure multiplies under knockout glare; group games can still carry final-level tension. The top successful chases at World Cups underline two truths: batting depth travels, and composure is a skill.

• Pakistan 345/4 vs Sri Lanka, Hyderabad

  The standard for the highest run chase in ODI World Cup history—built on top-order ballast and a death-overs ice-cold finish.

• Ireland 329/7 vs England, Bengaluru

  A folk ballad set to leather and willow. One of the format’s great middle-order fightbacks turned statistical improbability into a landmark chase.

• Bangladesh 322/3 vs West Indies, Taunton

  A blueprint in clarity: strike rotation early, selective violence, and a calculated sprint once the finish line emerged.

Trends that define record ODI chases

• Powerplay posture: The biggest chases rarely go timid early. Teams don’t swing blindly; they ensure required rate never spikes beyond salvage. A 60-plus powerplay with minimal wickets is often the line of best fit.
• Middle-overs scaffolding: The era of drifting to 4.5 an over in the middle died with the rise of fearless anchors. Kohli, Root, Williamson, Babar, and de Kock built a pattern: 80–120 as a partnership factory, not a holding pen.
• Finishing as a team task: The finisher archetype still matters, but the best chases spread the burden. A modern chase has three finishing acts—end of the 35th, end of the 42nd, and the last two overs—with different hitters owning each.
• Pace-off under lights: When the ball turns into a bar of soap, cutters and back-of-the-hand variations become the codebreakers. The best batters now premeditate and park the slog; ramp, glide, and sweep lines the percentages.
• Boundary geometry: Players audit square boundaries in warm-ups like golfers reading greens. The biggest chases almost always exploit the shorter side relentlessly.
• Two new balls, one intent: Since the white-ball rule changes, seam persists longer but reverse is rarer. That extension of hardness widened the middle-overs scoring envelope and emboldened big chases.

The Johannesburg epic, unpacked

South Africa 438/9, chasing 435 vs Australia at the Wanderers. The number is the headline; the inside pages are more complex. Australia’s 434 arrived on a jet stream of boundary hitting that once would have ended a contest before the interval. South Africa read it differently. Altitude meant length errors were death; mis-hits carried to and beyond the rope. The best response to a fire is not a garden hose—it’s a fire of your own.

The chase narrative bent but never broke. A punchy start forced the Australian quicks to shift length; anything too full allowed straight hitting that kept the rate below crisis point. Middle overs weren’t holding patterns; they were surgical dissections of fielded fours, two-a-ball channels, and running that scratched hidden runs from soft hands. When wickets fell, momentum didn’t hemorrhage; new batters inherited rhythm rather than panic.

The closing overs carried the signature of great modern chases: no prayer shots, only percentage violence aimed at predictable zones. The winning hit triggered a generational recalibration. Chasing 300 stopped being Everest. Teams learned to measure the shape of a chase rather than the height of the mountain.

Durban’s 372 and the normalization of the extraordinary

Where Johannesburg felt like rebellion, Durban looked like a manual. South Africa’s chase of 372 against Australia had an uncanny calm. The openers refused to cede the new ball. Middle-overs organization was exemplary: one batter always above a run a ball, the other replenishing. Boundaries arrived in clusters—over 21 bowled into the wind, over 29 into the shorter square side, and the climb just kept flattening. Finishing duties were shared: brute-force hits into the leg-side arc complemented by deep-third ramps. Less rock concert, more orchestra.

Jaipur’s lesson in elegance

India’s 362/1 chasing 360 at Jaipur is a testimonial to sequencing. Early swing was treated with respect, not fear. Deflections into third and fine leg kept the chart green; drive lines through mid-off forced the seamers to err shorter. Once the openers had established control, the third batter arrived not to stabilize but to accelerate. The famous takeaways weren’t just the hundreds; they were the empty overs where India refused to get stuck. Every three balls produced either a boundary or a high-quality single. By the time Australia found a yorker length, the chase was already breathing on the finish line.

Bristol’s white-ball machine

England’s 359/4 chasing 359 against Pakistan at Bristol embodied how a batting unit can swallow a target whole. The opening pair neutralized movement by meeting it early; flatter bats, harder hands, and drives through extra-cover broke the field. Middle-overs releases came via options rather than risks: pick-up pulls to exploit leg-side protection, dab-run-dab patterns against the seamers, then a targeted assault on spin. With the rate under control, the finishing phase became arithmetic.

Mohali’s cold-blooded reboot

Australia’s 359/6 chasing 359 in Mohali was a chase of character. Set batters shepherded the middle overs with a priority on low-risk twos rather than a boundary hunt. Once the calculation arrived—around a run-a-ball with a platform—an endgame specialist flipped the script, reading yorkers early and using deep cover fields to pick off power shots. A perfect example of how a team can win late without panic.

What highest ODI chases reveal about modern batting

• Strike management over strike rate: Elite chasers don’t chase personal speed; they chase partnership speed. One at 90 strike rate, one at 110, and the aggregate becomes irresistible.
• Field dissection: Beating boundary riders is now as much about trajectory as timing. The best batters flatten the ball through the off-side or manufacture angles that violate bowling plans.
• Fitness as a scoring skill: The quick two is the new boundary. Modern chasers milk fielders in the deep who are slow to the ball or on their wrong side, and they do it all night.
• Boundary bursts timed to resource cycles: New spells, fresh bowlers, long boundary into the wind—high-quality sides treat those as overs to secure brakes, then go hard at the ones laid out for them.

The World Cup chasing standard

Pakistan’s 345/4 in Hyderabad sits atop the global tournament’s chasing tree. It carries the signature of sturdy top-order accumulation and relentless late-overs pressure. Ireland’s 329/7 against England in Bengaluru retains its narrative power—a middle-order eruption that changed the tournament mood and expanded belief across Associate cricket. Bangladesh’s 322/3 against West Indies in Taunton showed how meticulous planning—matchups, phase targets, fearless shot selection—turns a daunting number into a smooth march.

The 300-plus, 350-plus and the singular 400-plus

• 300-plus chases: Once rara avis, now roughly the mark where composure beats chaos. The score itself is no longer mystical; the how and when of acceleration matter more.
• 350-plus chases: This band separates casual chasers from elite units. The mental load rises; one poor phase can balloon the ask into the danger zone. Teams that navigate 350-plus routinely have three attributes: a stable top-three, an all-rounder who bats above his average, and a finisher who forces captains to move a man out of the ring.
• The 400-plus unicorn: Only South Africa have climbed this mountain. The combination required—batting depth, altitude, a slick outfield, and a bowling attack under lights struggling for grip—is rare. Bowling units and captains now prepare specifically to deny this cocktail.

An expert’s chase blueprint

• Pre-play: read the square. Identify the shorter boundary, the wind direction, the tackier strip on a used pitch. Batting plans are boundary-map plans.
• Powerplay: protect wickets but prevent the rate from spiking. A 55–65 powerplay with one set batter is gold.
• Overs 11–25: deny dot-ball chains. Target the fifth bowler early; take singles with intent against mainline operators. If there’s spin grip, use late feet movement rather than hard hands.
• Overs 26–35: sequence your hitters. One batter must sit at run-a-ball; the other must test the rope. It’s the sweet spot where bowlers tire, captains fidget, and edges turn into ones and twos.
• Overs 36–40: cash window. Most great chases explode here: predictable death plans without protection, second-string seamers under lights, and boundary fields that telegraph pace-off. Find 25–35 here and you break the chase.
• Overs 41–50: two calculators on. The striker’s job is to stay in his zone; the non-striker’s job is to feed information—field changes, bowler cues, pace variations—so the striker sees the picture.

Team-wise high-water marks

• South Africa: 438/9 vs Australia, Johannesburg

  The identity runs through them: front-foot batting, altitude mastery, and the engine room to finish.

• India: 362/1 vs Australia, Jaipur

  A masterclass in tempo. Their chase DNA leans on anchors who accelerate—then finishers who don’t blink.

• England: 359/4 vs Pakistan, Bristol

  A system born from a white-ball revolution: deep batting, boundless intent, and a data-first batting order.

• Australia: 359/6 vs India, Mohali

  The best Australian chases are pragmatic rather than flashy, mixing hard running with precise acceleration.

• Pakistan: 352-plus vs Australia, Lahore; 345/4 vs Sri Lanka, Hyderabad (World Cup benchmark)

  A side that increasingly trusts its top order to chase rather than set; finishing has matured.

• Sri Lanka: 324/2 vs England, Leeds

  The Jayasuriya–Tharanga assault still reads like a thriller. Early shoulders opened, seam dragged, and spin shredded.

• New Zealand: around 350 vs Australia, Hamilton

  Grit and guile. The Black Caps’ best chases often come with chaos management and lower-order steel.

• Bangladesh: 322/3 vs West Indies, Taunton

  Proof of a maturing ODI identity: clarity in matchups and a middle order that relishes pressure.

Venue-wise character notes

• Johannesburg (Wanderers): thin air, hard deck, and a lightning outfield. Mistakes travel. The biggest chase lives here for a reason.
• Durban (Kingsmead): can look sticky early then slide under lights. Pace-off is both friend and enemy depending on control.
• Jaipur (Sawai Mansingh): even bounce with scything value for square hits. Left-hand/right-hand pairs wreak havoc with angles.
• Bristol: flat when dry, small margins for seamers. Captains need a plan for third-man and fine-leg leakage.
• Pune/Mohali on big nights: the dew demon rules. Plans at the toss win games here.

The anatomy of pressure in 350-plus chases

In the 270–310 band, errors can be patched. The calculation allows a poor over to be repaid later. In the 350-plus realm, every over is consequential capital. Batting sides communicate in micro-commitments rather than grand targets: hit one boundary in every two overs, locate the weaker fielder, go harder into the wind with loft, steal a flat two when mid-wicket is square. The best captains try to break those chains—stationing elite fielders on both sides, rotating pace and pace-off so that batters can’t program their swings, and throwing one surprise over when the equation seems settled.

Spin’s growing role in mega-chases

For a long time, 350 felt like a fast-bowler’s problem. Not anymore. High-class wrist spin is the modern chase wrecker. When captains can attack with a leg spinner in overs 15–30, they force a batter off his pre-planned lines and break partnerships before the cash window. Successful chasers counter with premeditated sweeps, under-edge ramps, and hard-sweep risk only when long leg is up. The discipline is visible in the best chases—mis-hits on spin are rare, and release shots are earmarked, not improvised.

Field restrictions and their hidden impact

Powerplay rules that pull an extra fielder inside the ring inflate risk calculations for bowling sides. The most expert chasers don’t just hunt boundaries in those overs—they choose safer lines early and make the ring’s geometry a singles factory. Later, when two remain in the circle, batters target the seamers’ fifth-stump lines where third-man and deep cover can be split by controlled slices.

Dew, data, and decision-making

Dew has become the quiet kingmaker of the modern ODI night. A captain who wins the toss in dew-prone venues puts a chasing plan in motion hours before a ball is bowled. The bowling side needs dry-towel choreography, cross-seam discipline, and a strong slip in the early overs to steal wickets before the ball turns greasy. Data now informs those micro-decisions: where a batter’s lofted clips tend to land, whether his slog-sweep prefers shorter boundaries, which overs in his career show a tempo dip. The best sides feed that to bowlers in real time.

Batting partnerships that built history

• Jayasuriya–Tharanga at Leeds: a blitz that felt like a batting clinic. They didn’t just hit hard; they reprogrammed the field.
• Top-order tridents in India’s 360 chase at Jaipur: one anchored, one dominated, one shut the door. Each role executed cleanly, without ego.
• Mohali’s late-overs alliance in Australia’s 359: a finisher and a set player sharing the last 100 as if it were an afternoon net.

Individual brilliance inside team architecture

The greatest individual knocks in mega-chases tend to be ruthless rather than showy. They have signature passages—inside-out lofts over extra, whip-slice through midwicket, back-foot punches that widen the off-side ring—but the defining trait is control. Boundaries come where expected; singles arrive on demand. When the bowler delivers his best, the great chaser takes the strike into a neutral zone rather than gifting the over.

Fastest executed 300-plus chases

Speed in a 300-plus chase is a mixed blessing. Finish too early and criticism of risk appears in hindsight; labor too long and the rate spikes. The fastest executions we’ve seen share a through-line: brutal opening stands, spin crushed before consolidation, and death overs reduced to a formality. Sri Lanka’s 324/2 at Leeds in under 38 overs remains the archetype of high-speed control: not a slogfest, but a choreographed dismantling of length. India’s Jaipur pursuit of 360 also lived in that fast-but-controlled space, the finish arriving long before the opposition found a plan B.

Ten wickets in hand, what that really says

A 10-wicket chase is often about suitability rather than flamboyance. Targets in this category tend to be sub-300, but the statement is loud: opening pairs that ride out the new ball and then smother the innings. The scoreboard looks serene; the dressing room knows it’s a masterclass in risk suppression and pressure transfer. The hidden skill is tempo—making sure the ask never forces a shot outside the hitters’ zones.

Death overs in the biggest chases

The last ten overs tell the truth about planning. Top chasers don’t hope for bad bowling; they prepare for good bowling and still score. The arc often looks like this:

• Over 41–43: harvest width and length errors; take 18–24 without extravagant risk.
• Over 44–47: brace for the best yorkers and bouncers; aim at gaps you can pre-create with movement across the crease.
• Over 48–50: chase the bowler’s second option, not his first. If you showed that you can handle the yorker, expect the slower one and sit back on it.

Bowling strategies that survive 350-plus defenses

When you’re defending 350 and see a chase gather, the instinct is to shrink. The best defenses go the other way: pack the ring, crowd the single, live with the odd boundary. Slow bouncers angled into the pitch break rhythm more than they produce wickets, but they produce indecision, and indecision is wickets’ cousin. If you must go full at the death, own it—three fielders behind square leg on the leg side, a long off that invites the inside-out miscue, a mid-off that teases the drive and springs for athletic stops.

Chasing psychology, as told by dressing rooms

This is the part the numbers don’t capture. The huddles that set 5-over tick marks. The quiet handshakes between a set batter and the next man in, agreeing on tempo. An analyst’s cue from a laptop that changes a bowling option. The message from the balcony to delay the power surge by two overs because the opposition’s fifth bowler has one left. Great chases rarely feel like chaos from inside; they feel like a sequence of small, correct choices.

Why South Africa owns this conversation

No team has authored more myth around mega-chases than South Africa. Johannesburg is obvious. Durban reinforced it. There’s something about their best ODI sides: a top order that treats risk like engineering, a middle that refuses to bat time, and finishers who know that the odds tilt your way if you walk to the crease with the ask below crisis. They also understand their home environments better than anyone—altitude, outfields, coastal air—and build chase plans around those truths.

India’s encyclopaedia of 300-plus chases

No team has turned 300 into a routine pursuit quite like India. The composition helps: top-order class with range hitting, a middle that balances right- and left-hand combinations, and a finisher’s DNA that survived multiple eras. The 362/1 at Jaipur remains their mountain peak, but the real story is how many times they’ve wrapped up 300–340 with time to spare. This isn’t bluster; it’s method.

England’s reinvention and its impact on targets

England’s white-ball reinvention made a promise: set or chase, attack. It changed how opponents think about par. It also produced a Bristol chase that looks almost casual on the card and felt ruthless on the field. When the openers believe 350 is a tempo, not a summit, the rest of the batting order breathes differently.

Australia’s pragmatism in the hunt

Australia’s biggest chases rarely look breathless. The Mohali template—upfront resistance, in-innings learning, and a decisive finishing act—reflects a culture that prizes game sense over narrative. When they’re good in the hunt, they look like they’re taking an exam they’ve studied for.

Pakistan’s expanding ceiling

A World Cup record chase and a tall pursuit against Australia speak to an ODI lineup that is trusting its top order more each season. The lines are clearer now: anchors who can accelerate, middle-order composure, and finishers who know where the bowler’s second option lands. The step from 320 to 345 is not technical; it’s cultural. Pakistan has taken that step.

Sri Lanka and the art of momentum

From Leeds to high-voltage tournament nights, Sri Lanka’s best chases showcase flow state batting. It starts with fearless openers and a middle that doesn’t lose shape when the ball grips. When the flow is on, the numbers look easy; the field spreads until there’s no protection left.

New Zealand’s quiet thunder

The Hamilton heist against Australia sits with a special glow for New Zealand. Chase craft there looked like grit and opportunism fused—lower-order bravery, strike rotation under pressure, and a refusal to accept that the script was finished. The Black Caps thrive in off-script moments.

Bangladesh and the poise of a modern chasing side

Taunton confirmed what insiders had seen building: batting depth, a refusal to wilt against big numbers, and hitters who understand their scoring zones. A World Cup chase past 320 is not an accident; it’s a declaration.

Has any team chased 400 in ODI

Yes. Only one: South Africa’s 438 at Johannesburg. Others have flirted with 400 in the second innings; none completed the job beyond that single classic.

Fastest 300-plus chase by rhythm and overs

Speed is not only about deliveries left; it’s the absence of stall points. Few chases illustrate this as cleanly as Sri Lanka’s 324 at Leeds—spin neutralized, seam exploited along the shorter square, and a closing stretch that felt inevitable. India’s Jaipur pursuit of 360 also lived in that fast-but-controlled space, the finish arriving long before the opposition found a plan B.

Highest chase under the DLS method

Rain does not forgive poor planning. The best DLS-era chases keep one eye on par scores from ball one, nudging just ahead of the curve so that a shower becomes an ally, not a threat. Teams with good DLS literacy adjust batting order on the fly, slip in a pinch hitter, or protect a set batter knowing an interruption can flip the ask.

Grounds that invite brave chases

• Wanderers, Johannesburg: thin air, big scores, bigger belief.
• Trent Bridge, Nottingham: on dry days, full value for strokes; captains run out of rope fast.
• Wankhede, Mumbai: dew, bounce, and the kind of outfield that allows twos to become threes.
• SCG, Sydney: truer in the evening than folklore suggests; requires patience before payoff.
• Sharjah: boundary sizes and desert air can turn even conservative chases into accelerators’ paradises.

Player archetypes that win the biggest chases

• Tempo anchor: not a blocker; a pace-setter who keeps the heart rate down. Think 75 off 70 through the middle without a false shot.
• Enforcer: destroys plan A and plan B; turns a good 10-over spell into an 8-over cameo.
• Finisher: reads slower-ball grip off the hand; shifts across to change the bowler’s yorker angle; mines the leg side late.
• Running partner: quick feet, clean turns, constant communication; turns six close-run twos into twelve runs of breathing space.
• Over-reader: the player who knows which over belongs to you before it begins.

Umpires, laws, and the unseen margins

Small things decide large hunts. Free-hits deflate bowlers at critical moments. Fielding restrictions expose captains who are one pace too slow. Third umpires adjudicate fine run-outs that swing probabilities. In big chases, the lawbook is not background—it’s part of the battlefield.

Why the record hasn’t fallen since the 438

Not for lack of skill. Conditions, data, and batting depth all point up. The barrier is structural: captains defend differently now; pace-off mastery, defensive sweeps on the leg-side boundary, and specialized death practice make the last five overs harder to explode. The rare night that aligns flat deck, small side boundaries, dew, and a subpar death attack will tempt fate again. Until then, 438 stands like a mountain.

Most 300-plus chases by teams that live in this space

India, South Africa, England, and Australia have the heft—top-order skill, depth at six and seven, and institutional knowledge—to make 300 feel ordinary. Pakistan and New Zealand have added poise and planning. Bangladesh have arrived at the party with a well-drilled method. The gap between setting and chasing has narrowed; the best sides now prefer the hunt when conditions offer even a whisper of dew.

Context notes on notable chases

• Johannesburg’s classic: powered by belief as much as bat speed. The best line from that night is the collective calm; the chase felt like a dare, but the batting felt like a plan.
• Durban’s 372: proves that enormous numbers can be methodical. No panic spikes, no gamble overs—just sustained superiority.
• Jaipur’s 360: a tempo poem. When a top three plays like this, the last 10 overs become a formality.
• Bristol’s 359: England’s system working as designed—role clarity, fearless decision-making, and an unflappable finish.
• Mohali’s 359: navigational excellence. Set players set, finishers finish, and a massive ask looks like a solvable equation.

Tactical takeaways for coaches and captains

• Define roles before the toss. Overs 11–25 cannot be a holding period; install an enforcer who moves the game without drama.
• Build a two-speed middle: one batter above the rate, one keeping the floor. Handovers should be seamless; no pair should start together at below-par tempo.
• Practice under-lights execution. Catching drills with dew, slower-ball reads in slippery conditions, towel cadence for bowlers, and fielders drilled on the correct side of the ball.
• Choose your death options by boundary geometry, not reputation. If the leg-side is shorter, accept a smaller margin and bowl into the pitch.

Why fans will always love the chase

Batting first is pure expression. Chasing is theatre. It gifts narrative—heroes and turning points, the embrace of imperfection, and the unshakeable belief that one over can change a game. The highest chase in one day cricket carries that electricity in every ball. When it ends with a handshake in the middle and a scoreboard that defied the morning’s logic, a crowd goes home feeling it witnessed something unrepeatable. That’s sport’s oldest currency.

A compact reference table for the all-time elite

Team	Target to win	Final score	Opposition	Venue
South Africa	435	438/9	Australia	Johannesburg (Wanderers)
South Africa	372	372/6	Australia	Durban (Kingsmead)
India	360	362/1	Australia	Jaipur (Sawai Mansingh)
England	359	359/4	Pakistan	Bristol
Australia	359	359/6	India	Mohali (PCA)

World Cup high chases, reference list

Team	Target to win	Final score	Opposition	Venue
Pakistan	345	345/4	Sri Lanka	Hyderabad
Ireland	328	329/7	England	Bengaluru
Bangladesh	322	322/3	West Indies	Taunton

Closing thoughts

The biggest run chase in ODI history is more than an outlier; it’s a compass. It points to how teams think about risk, how batters sequence their innings, and how captains marshal resources in a world where 300 is a waypoint, not a destination. It rewards clarity, courage, and craft. It exposes panic. It celebrates the partnership—not just between batters, but between insight and execution.

Someday another night will produce a number bigger than 438. It will take a deck that’s velvet, boundaries that feel a touch closer, bowlers who nudge length on the wrong ball, and a lineup that never doubts itself. Until then, the record lives as a towering reminder: in one-day cricket, the chase is where belief meets method, and the greatest stories are written from the second innings.