Ah, trying those deliveries ruined my shoulder, yaar! The doosra's wrist twist felt like churning butter backwards – I'd know, my elbow still aches in winter. For me, a carrom ball was just a flick of the finger, like tapping the last *gur* out of the pot. And the wrong’un? Never trusted it – a grain bag shouldn't spin both ways, and neither should my ball, simple as that.
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