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The spirit of George Orwell lay heavy over Mumbai’s Wankhede Stadium on Tuesday evening after favourites Australia got past underdogs Afghanistan in the 50-over World Cup match. Over the entrance to the losers’ dressing room, my mind’s eye saw, adapted, the legend from his Animal Farm: ‘Two legs good, no legs bad.’
Understandably, at game’s end, a slew of superlatives rolled easily off the tongue of the commentators.
Astonishing! Awesome! Brilliant! Extraordinary! Incredible! Magnificent! Miraculous! Scarcely believable! Stunning! Unforgettable! Unheard of! Unprecedented! The greatest of all time!
Amazingly, Glenn Maxwell had scored 201, including 144 in boundaries, to see his team safely home after they had been more-than-precariously perched in double digits with only three wickets left. They reached their 292 target with three wickets still left.
Mind-bogglingly, the double-century came despite severe back spasms and cramp. For a protracted period of his three-hour-long innings, he had been forced to bat essentially on one leg. Indeed, occasionally on none!
Coming in to face a hat-trick ball at 49 for 4, Maxwell was soon joined at the crease by his skipper, Pat Cummins. The score was then 91 for 7 in the middle of the 19th over. That means that, together, Maxwell and Marnus Labuschagne (14 off 28), Marcus Stoinis (6 off 7) and Mitchell Starc (3 off 7) had managed to add a mere 42.
Do the math. From 42, the total number of runs added, take 23 (14+6+3), the sum of the three dismissed batsmen’s scores. Ignoring extras, that leaves us with a maximum possible score of 19 not out for Maxwell at 91 for 7. Since his stand with Cummins was worth 201 and he finished with an unbeaten double-century, his contribution to the partnership was at least 182!
What de hell, my mind’s ear captures a chorus of imaginary West Indian commenters, de captain was doin dong de odder end?
Focusing, comes my completely unsatisfactory answer, on the preservation of his wicket. Cummins correctly left the responsibility of rapidly advancing the score to Maxwell, temporary handicap notwithstanding.
For the record, in the two hours and 68 balls he lasted, Cummins made a chanceless 12. With a single boundary. He defended stoutly, taking few risks and putting his diminished partner under no pressure to complete singles.
Among West Indian white ball fans, that ‘what de hell he doin’ attitude is not uncommon. Survival batting often provokes contempt, not superlatives. Often, two descriptors are generated, ‘waste-a-time’ and ‘wotliss’!
In cricket too, although it’s the most individual of the major team sports, it takes two to tango. We willingly shower lavish, thesaurus-enriched praise on the individual we perceive to be the match-winner.
But how often do we trouble to attempt to find half-dozen adjectives or other descriptors that aptly sum up a secondary but vital contribution?
Lara, a world record holder, declared Chanderpaul his favourite batting partner.
Perhaps in Test cricket, where large partnerships abound. How many of us have forgotten who was not out at the other end on 75* (out of 219) and 107* (out of 282) respectively when the Prince of Port-of-Spain recorded his record-breaking 375 and 400* respectively in Antigua in 1994 and 2004?
When, at Kensington in 1999, his brilliant, incredible, unforgettable, etc. 153 took WI past Australia, how many of us cannot name the unsung tailender who survived the five balls he had been required to face?
And we forget none of the actors in three famous Garry Sobers (33 of 63, 365* of 446 and 163* of 274) stands, with Wes Hall (26) at the Queen’s Park Oval versus England in 1968, with Conrad Hunte (260) versus Pakistan at Sabina Park in 1958, and with his cousin David Holford (105*) versus England at Lord’s in 1966.
The pair added 274 for the sixth wicket to save the match.
(Copyright PA Images)
Of much more recent vintage, the 336-run opening stand between Kraigg Brathwaite (182) and Tagenarine Chanderpaul (207*) against Zimbabwe in Bulawayo is fresh in our memories.
As is the 216-run partnership between Kyle Mayers (210*) and Nkrumah Bonner (86) in Bangladesh in 2021. And the 347-run 7th-wicket stand between Denis Atkinson (219) and Clairmonte Depeiza (122) in Barbados in 1955 is now the stuff of legend.
Test cricket is replete with truly memorable partnerships but, in the shorter formats, only four come readily to my mind, all leading to victory over England.
At his side is teammate Nkrumah Bonner.
Only four short-format partnerships come readily to my mind, all four leading to victory over England.
The first three are the priceless 71 put on by Ian Bradshaw (34*) and Courtney Browne (35*) in the 2004 Champions Trophy final, the belligerent 139 by Collis King (86) and Viv Richards (138*) in the 1979 World Cup final and the unbroken 106 that beggars description which Richards (189*) and number 10 (12*) at Old Trafford in 1984.
Few serious West Indies supporters, one suspects, would be unable to identify Michael Holding as Richards’ partner on that occasion. How many of us, however, have ever thought about a single adjective that accurately describes the Jamaican pacer’s contribution?
(via Zimbio)
But where is all this leading? Well, the as-yet-unidentified fourth short-format partnership occurred in the 2016 T20 World Cup final in India’s Eden Gardens. There, having come to the crease at the start of the second over, Marlon Samuels blasted a 66-ball 85 to leave underdogs WI still needing a challenging 19 runs off the last over to become champions.
Up stepped Carlos Brathwaite. And delivered. Twok! Twok!! Twok!!! Twok!!!!
Over and over over the last seven years, I have heard a chorus of WI voices deservedly sing the praises of the muscular Barbadian for his match-winning quadruple-twok assault on Ben Stokes. About Samuels, the abrasive Jamaican without whose contribution far more than four twoks would have been needed in that fateful final over? Nary a word!
(Copyright AFP 2016/ Dibyangshu Sarkar)
Over and over over the last several years, I have remarked that, in his platform-building innings, Samuels hit nine fours and just two sixes.
Over and over over the last few years, I have heard a chorus of WI voices, led by former white ball captains Kieron Pollard and Nicholas Pooran, declaring that ‘we are a six-hitting team.’
Over and over over the last month, I have wondered if the West Indies’ absence from the last two World Cups is not attributable to that one massive delusion, deeply rooted in the 2016 victory.
Over and over over the last couple of days, I have found my thoughts focused on the tantalising tale told by this unique threesome, the celebrated Carlos Brathwaite, the enigmatic Rinku Singh and the mercurial Glenn Maxwell.
Over and over over the last couple of hours, I have found myself tempted to search my thesaurus for synonyms of ‘fluke’ and ‘fortuitous’. So far, I have resisted.
Over and over over the last few minutes, I have found myself drifting back to Orwell.
All match-winning innings are equal, the thought runs—but some innings are more equal than others.
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