It’s the final ball of the super over. Neesham has played his part. He’s done the lion’s share of the required scoring. But 2 are still needed of the 15 that New Zealand were to get.
And it’s that man who hammered a World Cup double hundred who’s on strike.
So naturally, you cannot be blamed for thinking that if there’s anyone in the world who can get those runs, it’s Martin Guptill.
One big hit and the Kiwis are through. But great things happen in the imagination. It stings when reality bites.
Instead, Martin Guptill finds a very good delivery rushed into his leg stump. There’s no question of a huge heave. Only 1 can be allowed. But the Kiwi batsmen run with all their might.
At that moment, if you‘d asked them to run from Rotorua to Christchurch, they’d have done so.
But the second run is never for the taking. By the time Guptill failingly reaches the keeper’s end, England are already on cloud nine.
A major wrong has been righted; something hitherto unachieved has been claimed. The country that invented the very sport has finally won its biggest battle.
English players are hovering around Lord’s running in circles as if an army of wasps have been let loose from an enclosure. The Kiwis are deflated. Guptill, the great batsman is on his feet. He’s been humbled. Jimmy Neesham, crestfallen is beside him, frozen in that moment.
Then the lens zooms in on the famous Lord’s balcony. A young man, his calm face buried in massive brown beard is seen forlorn in the aftermath.
But you can’t spot the sorrow. You cannot experience the pain. Quietness, yes there’s lots. But panic, tension, anger, fury, frustration- there’s none of it.
A few minutes later, the man walks down ever so gracefully to the presentation where he’s greeted by a barrage of questions by Naseer Hussein. He handles those with familiar patience and dignity, keeping his cool about him and insists, “It’s not just about that one extra run, and there were many moments that could’ve gone either way.”
Later, we are presented with a bevy of quizzes the journalists throw up toward the leader of the Blackcaps. Once again, he refuses to hide behind poor luck which, you know, I know as do billions watching had inflicted his side.
He finally leaves saying, “At the end of the day, you got to enjoy what you do.”
Once again, no temper, no snide remarks guised in the form of frustrations.
Congratulating both teams on a ‘great game of cricket’, one played with ‘a lot of heart,’ Williamson bowed out.
Well left, Kane Williamson.
Not a man you’d see raise his voice, not a man you’d liken to any shenanigan that would demean the glory that donning the Blackcaps jersey brings, Kane Williamson was graceful both on the 22 yards and off it.
And this is when he could’ve raised his collars and walked like an arrogant prince.
His deeds in the just-concluded World Cup would’ve made any batsman throw around some weight.
He had struck 2 mesmerizing hundreds, one each against the West Indies- 148- and South Africa- 106*. And he had made as many fifties.
Moreover, in his maiden attempt as a captain, he took his team into the finals, New Zealand parking themselves as the runner’s up for the second team in a row.
Where most other batsmen faltered and struggled, looking uncertain versus their opponents, Kane Williamson stood up and hung his opponents out to dry.
Against Faf’s South Africa, he made a fine century, while the next best score was Grandhomme’s 60.
Versus Holder’s Windies, he batted deep into the death overs having arrived onto the middle with the score reading none for 1.
He would bat for 46 overs and when Cottrell offered that salute taking his wicket, it seemed he was conveying the regard of his entire team to this great talisman.
Yet, it was Kane Williamson who went in to the very fag moment of the cup without drinking champagne off it.
The loud celebrations, the wild party, the whole hue and cry, none of that belonged to the 28-year-old.
But what did was that grace under pressure and the ability to still appear with a smile when he could’ve just used his emotions as a crutch.
Perhaps that is why it makes so much sense that great men don’t always win it all; they persevere against all odds.
And in giving Jimmy Neesham that opportunity to shine in a very dangerous do or die, in rallying around his team, in still believing in Guptill when perhaps he himself may not have, and in being the man responsible for making Indians stick to their TV sets when he and his team were responsible for the country’s ouster- Kane Williamson exited England but not before winning hearts.
England may be the deserving champions, but Kane Williamson was a winner nonetheless.
