Many years ago, I interviewed the coach of the Uruguayan football team, and something he said has stayed with me ever since. Speaking of Brazil’s skill, he said that often the players would suddenly break into a pattern or complete a move that caught even their coach by surprise. Metaphorically, it caused jaws to drop and grown men to drool.
India’s T20 batting is doing that now. Sometimes it is difficult to understand where the strokes come from — although many work on these at the nets and away from public scrutiny. Suryakumar Yadav’s flick or shovel high into the stands between square leg and the sight screen behind the wicketkeeper is so much a part of his game now that the initial shock has worn off.
Clearly, there is no limit to what a player can do armed with just a bat and lots of imagination — such things as eye, fitness, attitude being taken for granted, of course.
Some of the strokes can be put down to the orthodox being carried to its logical extreme. When Sanju Samson moved to leg and twice drove Taskin Ahmed past cover in the Hyderabad carnage against Bangladesh, it was stunning but could be explained by traditional metrics. The second stroke was played rocking back slightly, but even that could be understood.
In fact, despite making 111 off just 47 deliveries, Samson seldom went outside the parameters of orthodoxy; he only seemed to do everything more quickly and with better timing or power. The ball didn’t have to be bowled short to be pulled into the stands, and neither did it have to be pitched up to be driven to the boundary. When Mustafizur Rahman bowled one coming into him and giving no room, Samson’s response was a casual six over extra cover. This is skill of a high order.
And just as you were thinking such shots could not be repeated, Hardik Pandya did so, off Tanzim Hasan. Riyan Parag, Rinku Singh, in fact everyone from No.1 to No.8 is capable of strokes that are inexplicable but seem inevitable after execution.
Like something from a great musician or mathematician, the natural response to these would be: “How did he do that? How could he do that?” This is not a direct comparison between cricket and the arts — the commonality lies in the reaction to the effort.
In the second match, Hardik didn’t even bother to watch the ball onto the bat or look to see where he had hit it (Taskin was the bowler). It was like a favourite uncle’s card trick to a child!
Rather like the Brazilian football team, the Indians have worked out the angles, and taken command of the empty spaces to drive the ball through. Hundreds of hours of practice have allowed them to play both the shots they practised as well as those beyond mere practice. It is this latter that has been magical. The precision needed to dig out a potential yorker and scoop it over point for six, as Suryakumar does routinely, is staggering.
In the commentary box, even Sunil Gavaskar, the epitome of batting orthodoxy could not hide his excitement. It pointed to the essential difference between traditional cricket and T20 — the former is about the process, the latter about the result. If Test batsmanship is built on the coaching manual, T20 owes its philosophy to what the novelist E.M. Forster said in another context: Only connect.
Perhaps it has taken the retirement of Virat Kohli to free up the T20 thinking in the Indian approach. That, and something Kohli can take some credit for — a lack of selfishness. Young players no longer fear the axe and play a ‘safe’ game. Samson, following his recent poor scores resisted the temptation to merely add runs but went hammer and tongs from the start. The big score was just a matter of time.
There is a famous goal in World Cup 1970 where Brazil’s Jairzinho scores against England after a series of often astonishing moves. At least a couple of others might have scored, but he was the best-placed. That had spontaneity and freedom, and above all, surprise — the elements coming together now in India’s T20 batting.
Published – October 16, 2024 12:39 am IST
