It was an unusual hundred. By no means not by the first ball. This was an edge, of a sort– a point was being made, albeit quietly but decisively.
The buzz surrounding Indian Premier League auctions tends to be forgotten the moment the season kicks off, but such a night is a wake-up call, reminding people of it. Quinton de Kock, who was selected by Mumbai Indians at the lowest price with little to no bidding activity, was forced to walk out and turned out to be the owner of the evening over Punjab Kings.
It was not open with a highlight reel. Already the first wickets had pushed Mumbai into a corner, and in the press box you could feel that tightening, which is a voice or two lowering, some nervous fidgeting in the dugout. De Kock was in no hurry. He went away, he poked, he justified. A couple of singles. Nothing flashy. He was nearly buying time, almost as though he were purchasing time himself, as well as the innings.
And yet control. Subtle, but there. The type in which the bowler is looking in time, and the batter has already taken a step forward.
When the field dispersed, something had changed. One of those short balls drawn. then a charge, face on, across cover. It was a different sound now, and an altered sound,–that sharp crack which turns fielders long before the ball reaches them. De Kock did not blow up; he unbent himself. Gradually. And when he did, the tide turned nearly without notice.
Mumbai, who had the appearance of stitching up an inning, had a feeling of direction at last.
A middle over partnership stabilized it. Never loud, never frantic–just smart cricket. You could read the dialogue between overs, a word here and a nod there. De Kock plowed the blow where necessary, relied on his partner where possible. It was not simply shot-making, but game awareness, the type that is never featured in highlight packages.
The fielders of the Punjab began to deepen some time in the 80s, the shoulders sinking a little. The bowlers continued to experiment, changing speed, angles, lengths–but at this point he had the figure of it all. An overlong, clear, confident loft raised the century. No wild celebration. Nothing but a lifted bat, a quick look up the air, and to business.
He wasn’t done yet.
Batting through the innings, he did not finish without a score, he made sure that there were no late stumbles. It was the completeness of it which impressed me more than the hundred itself. He did not merely save the innings–he made it, moulded it, and sealed it.
Some smiles had come back in the dugout. Not over-the-top. Nothing more than that contented feeling of a plan succeeding.
This has implications on Mumbai Indians.
In the case of Mumbai this is not a mere inning of points on the table. It reminds them of something they have made their legacy out of – seeing value in a place that others would be afraid. There can be a lot of noise in an auction, reputations can be damaged, and when the performance is this good, it cuts right through it.
And in a season when costly purchases are always under scrutiny a low-end signature that provides a match-changing blow changes the story a little. Perhaps a little more than a bit.
The knock of De Kock, too, clears up a few doubts of his own physique. Murmurs had been,–of consistency, of effect. This wasn’t a response in words, but it didn’t need to be. The time, the mastery, the composure in stress, it all talked.
When the crowd broke out, and the lights remained a little longer, you had the feeling that this innings was to be lingering. Not that it was a hundred but when and how it came.
Sometimes, the smartest moves aren’t the loudest ones. And occasionally, the quiet bits come to be the noisiest.
