True tales of cricketers turning the game around exist
There was a zenlike calm about Colin de Grandhomme
To describe a cricketer of being capable of ‘‘turning a game in half an hour’’ is something of a commentary cliche.
It’s almost a throwaway line, used when appraising all rounders or players of especial charisma, but not to be taken too seriously.
How often is the outcome of a match literally decided by a handful of balls inside 30 minutes?
In an age when twenty20 has itself been diluted to farcical encounters half that duration, such stories might be easier to come by.
But how about in the more substantive formats, in test cricket and 50-over affairs?
Two examples come to mind. The first, somewhat inevitably, involves Sir Ian Botham.
The English allrounder’s efforts during the 1981 Ashes have rightly passed into folklore.
While there are Botham stories galore from each of the five tests, it is third encounter, when his team was two matches down and facing an innings defeat at Leeds, that the beefy one played for the ages.
After taking six wickets in Australia’s first innings and scoring a half-century off 54 balls in England’s, Botham came to the crease with his side 105 for five, needing 117 just to make Australia bat again.
Carnage ensued.
There were 27 fours and a six in the allrounder’s 149 not out, scored at just over a run a ball. Not only was the match saved, it was won and the series turned, a remarkable, if not quite unprecedented, come-from-behind triumph.
You might quibble that not all of this was achieved in half an hour. Maybe not, but the tone was set and the foundations laid. Let’s not get too pedantic.
The second example happened closer to home. Many who experienced the nightmare have yet to recover. During the 1992 World Cup semi-final against New Zealand, Pakistan were 140 for four, well behind the run rate required to overhaul the host’s competitive 262.
Those of us drinking through the match down at the Hillcrest Tavern in Hamilton had already pencilled in Marty Crowe and his ‘‘pop guns’’ for a finals birth, so inevitable was victory.
Then came Inzamam-ul-haq, young, heavy set and seemingly half asleep. The matter was settled in 37 balls. Sixty runs were bludgeoned. Chris Harris went for seven an over, an awful lot in those days. Game – and tournament – over.
A couple of years ago I met someone who worked with Inzamam. Apparently the big man is aware that his swashbuckling innings will forever haunt a generation of New Zealand sports fans.
It amused him greatly. Fair enough, I suppose, though it was difficult to discern the genius of it at the time through tears.
A few Pakistani tears may well have been shed on Tuesday night. Having already surrendered the one-day series and been bowled out for a frankly pathetic 74 in the preceding game, the tourists had managed to frustrate a rare mistake out of wunderkind New Zealand captain Kane Williamson.
The next batsman in was coming off a three-week break. The home team’s chase was delicately poised at 154 for five. More than 100 runs were required and a legspinning teenage sensation had the ball on the string.
Cometh the hour, cometh the man. There was a zen-like calm about Colin de Grandhomme. His hitting was clean and effortless. Numbers tell part of the tale – five sixes, seven fours, a half century off 25 balls, 74 not out off 40 – but you really had to see it to believe it.
Did he turn the game in half an hour? Much less, actually, though to be precise the winning took 39 minutes. There were four overs to spare.
It’s unlikely the innings will loom large in any future history of Seddon Park. History will favour Matthew Hayden’s 181 not out in that epic Chappell-hadlee encounter of 2007, or Craig Mcmillan’s quick-fire century reply in the same match, Martin Guptill’s 180 not out against the might of South Africa last year or Richard Levi’s twenty20 world record of 117 off 51 balls.
As great as those knocks were, I’m not sure any quite equate to de Grandhomme’s achievement.
The dead-rubber status of the game itself resists comparisons to Botham and Inzamam, but spare a thought for the fact that this was the man’s first international game after the passing of his father.
Any who tell you that kind of shock doesn’t play on your mind for months afterwards have yet to lose a parent themselves.