Speak softly and carry a mighty bat

SOON after Kane Williamson went to his second double century of New Zealand’s international summer the cameras panned around the ground, where supporters stood in acclamation, and then to the home team’s dressing room.

There you had a glimpse of Black Caps players Mitchell Santner and Tom Blundell also standing and clapping, with Santner then turning to his teammate and shaking his head in wonderment.

Williamson’s form provokes such a response everywhere, as he is taking gluttony and consistency to headscratching levels.

In the past two years, Williamson, pictured, has averaged more than 70, and in his past 50 Tests only five runs an innings fewer than that. He is now the world’s No 1 Test batsman and is, by common consent, the best player produced by his country.

What a week then for him — not that he would enjoy the focus on him over his team — having also led New Zealand to the top of the Test rankings for the first time.

While Williamson, 30, is hardly undervalued, it would be true to say he has fewer column inches written about him and dominates airtime less frequently than, say, Virat Kohli or Steve Smith.

It says a lot about Williamson’s understated nature, as well as the team he plays for. He courts no publicity, has no social media exposure.

I also wonder if it says more about the way in which we value relative talents in all walks of life. Are we prone to underestimating low-key excellence at the expense of those with flashier credentials?

His game is not so eyecatching. You can’t imagine emulating the way Kohli or Smith play, but you could imagine trying to copy Williamson (in your dreams).

Yet he has the purest technique; plays the ball later than anyone; makes better decisions more often; and is scoring more runs, more consistently. These talents are the foundations of batting.

Here is the late Martin Crowe, Williamson’s predecessor as New Zealand’s best, on the captain’s unassuming greatness: “It’s his quiet defence that stands out, the ball met with a cushion in his hand, his framework right behind the line, his head staring the action down. Williamson is a difficult player to focus against: due to his humility and lack of ego, it is harder for bowlers . . . his passive body language gives very little to feed off.”

While Kohli is an embodiment of the new India off it, and Smith takes an infatuation with batting to new (and perhaps damaging) levels, Williamson trails an air of normality. As the New Zealand journalist Andrew Alderson wrote: “He appears as balanced in life as he is at the crease.”

His greatness needs to be appreciated in the round.

He says of his understated style of leadership that it suits his personality, while the way in which his team play suits the national character.

In all walks of life, we can probably think of the quiet over-achievers who are shaded by those who, say, shout more loudly, dressing more flashily or work more showily. Recent events on the cricket field are a reminder sometimes understated excellence can be hard to beat.