June 29, the T20 World Cup final. David Miller, the finisher who came in at #6, has just given his hand away. Unnecessarily. Kagiso Rabada can win the coveted trophy for South Africa. True, he’s batting at #10. But cometh the hour, cometh the batsman.
Even a #10 can get 16 off five balls; in fact, if he’s skilful enough or lucky enough or both, he can get 16 off three! Six, six, four. In any order!
I don’t have the option of thinking, “That’s not my role.” It is now. It has become my role. I have to keep a cool head, seize the moment and win it for my team.
It is what India’s Suryakumar Yadav did. He converted possibility into reality and won it for his team by keeping a super-cool head.
India’s retiring coach Rahul Dravid discussed, in the interview cited in Part Three, the secret of his team’s T20I success.
“We have moved the needle forward with our batting,” he said.
But the progress, it becomes clear, is not simply in the obvious technical versatility of the new generation of players—it’s the way the entire team thinks cricket all the time.
What sets them apart from the rest is the role clarity, confidence in the validity of their own individual judgement and, most importantly, the unwavering flexibility.
They consistently demonstrate that they have the wherewithal to effectively process the vital information provided not only by the last tournament, the last match, the last partnership, the last over but by the last ball!
And that applies, Dravid stressed, not just to the skipper or the batsman on strike but to every man Jagdeo. It is why the team is able to win from potentially losing positions.
So, after the “brutal elegance” (Nasser Hussain) of his 92 in the hugely important Super Eights match against Australia at Gros Islet, Rohit Sharma failed to fire in Bridgetown. At 23 for 1 in the second over, he departs, trying to force the pace.
In the Dravid dressing room, there is neither panic nor criticism. Risk, they know, is baked into the cake. There is acceptance, analysis and, above all, adjustment.
I didn’t quite catch that first ball but say what? It’s four. Long-on or long-off or fine-leg or third man, I don’t care how they come as long as they come. Maybe God is on my side. Maybe I can do like Marco [Jansen] against West Indies in the Super Eights and carve Hardik [Pandya]’s ass back over his head for six.
Like with Rohit, there is no negative reaction in the South Africa dressing room when Tristan Stubbs is dismissed, bowled off-stump behind his back at 70 for 3 in the ninth over. Nor when de Kock goes, caught in the deep at 106 for 4 in the thirteenth over immediately after hitting a six.
Disappointment? Yes. Disapproval? No. Despair? Emphatically not!
Both were intent on squeezing every available run out of the middle overs. Which is, I think Valentino Singh would agree, by any definition batting properly. Ultimately, their dismissals may have slowed the march towards parity—crucially, neither shut it down.
The same, however, cannot be said of David Miller. Or Heinrich Klaasen. Having passed the mindset test to build on the work of Stubbs and de Kock and get their team into a potentially winning position, both failed at critical moments.
Not for one moment did either think: “We are a six-hitting team.” But neither demonstrated the flexibility, the shape-shifting, the nimbleness of thought so necessary to success in the shortest format.
First, Klaasen. The power-hitting ex-wicketkeeper played his part superbly to bring the Proteas to the home stretch, within sight of the finish line.
With 42 balls left after de Kock’s departure, South Africa need 68. Miller and Klaasen calculate that the time is right to take the attack to the spinners. So, switching to offence, Miller smashes a four and a six off Kuldeep Yadav’s last over, which yields 14.
Damn! Missed! Let me take the bye, yes.
Shit! Mistake! Keshav [Maharaj] is struggling. He can’t get the ball away. I should have kept the strike. Damn! Damn!! Damn!!!
Six overs left, 54 runs needed. Rohit opts to keep Player-of-the-Series Jasprit Bumrah’s last over in the bank. A rampant Klaasen pounces, goes for broke. In the last over of spin, he takes the left-handed Axar Patel for two fours and two sixes.
It is over. The hard work is done. Off the last 30 balls, only 30 are needed.
While Rishabh Pant is getting attention for a niggle in his leg, Miller and Klaasen consult. Exult.
“A single off every ball will get us there now,” says the one.
“So, no risks,” comes the wise reply. “In theory, five balls are all we need to get over the line. Carlos Brathwaite showed the way. And Rinku Singh. We need at least five; we have 30!”
The untimely interruption drags on. Klaasen chafes at the bit. Suddenly, The Ghost of Defeats Past disappears. The fear of winning looms large. Klaasen forgets his agreement not to take risks. The first ball is wide. He chases it. The low-percentage shot costs him his wicket.
My luck’s in. A second chance! I didn’t think he’d get a single. Or that Hardik [Pandya] would bowl a wide.
Nine off two? Six and four? Four and six? We’ll see. Here goes…
Suddenly, it’s 156 for 6. A Bumrah beauty has cleaned up Jansen. And Maharaj’s mindset is muddled. His focus is preserving his wicket.
The clear imperative is getting Miller back on strike. But the finisher faces only seven balls in overs 17 to 19. Only ten runs come.
“We need only 16 off the last six,” a distraught Klaasen telegraphs from the pavilion, willing Miller to swat one out of the ground. “With luck, we can get that off three. Six, six, four in any order and we’re home.”
“This is not on Keshav, Kagiso or Anrich [Nortje],” Miller simultaneously says to himself. “This is on me.”
Pressure!
Pipe breaks. Miller forgets the equation: off the first ball of the over, four or two will do. And the imperative: don’t get out! No risks!
The veteran of 120-plus T20Is opts to swing for the fences. Sky keeps his head on and his feet off the boundary cushions and makes South Africa pay. Spectacularly.
Damn! Didn’t hit it! He’s not dropping that. We’re doomed. Again!
Earl Best taught cricket, French, football and Spanish at QRC for many years and has written consistently for the Tapia and the Trinidad and Tobago Review since the 1970’s.
He is also a former sports editor at the Trinidad Guardian and the Trinidad Express and is now a senior lecturer in Journalism at COSTAATT.