What's gone wrong with Evin Lewis

It doesn’t spell trouble if you score 10 when the team needs you to score big. 

Even the best have an off day. 

But it signifies trouble when all you’ve scored before is a duck, followed by another duck and the 10 comes in a must-win game where your team is contesting to salvage some pride. 

Make it a match-saving effort. 

Therefore, it’s tough to understand Evin Lewis. 

But what’s tougher is to understand how Evin Lewis feels at this point in time. 

For we don’t honestly know what this tall, big-hitting left-hander really feels within. 

Part of the problem could be because Lewis isn’t an expressive guy, not someone you’d identify with a particular figure of speech. 

One probably doesn’t even know what the Trinidadian sounds like. In Lewis’s world, you’re more concerned about rising economy rates, glowing run-rates, and tall sixes. 

Moreover, he’s a simple bloke. 

He never put his shoes on the presentation ceremony nor muttered anything remotely similar to a coy-ish expression, “don’t blush baby!” 

He was someone who simply blasted his way through to 2 T20 hundreds, when he was merely a cricketing newborn. 

Each ton was scored against India, the same opposition he’s failed miserably against in the just-concluded T20s. 

Generally, the only sound that Evin Lewis makes is with the bat. For usually, it’s the thing that does the talking, often, in loud thuds and grunts and hoists and whacks. 

And therefore, it feels even stranger this time since the bat didn’t do any talking. 

Probably, those who are blessed with forgiving hearts shall pardon the smashing opening batsman. 

But a few who’ve understood that Lewis is very much his own man; a moody cricketer, not someone alarmed by match situation would feel let down. 

This is not to say that Lewis’s skills are shorter than the duration of the format he excels in, the T20s. Nothing could be further from the truth. 

But it seems, Lewis doesn’t bat, playing each ball to its merit, as if his life depended on it. 

You won’t find the carefully executed late cut when the big shots don’t come, akin to a Sarwan or Chanderpaul. 

You won’t find too many 1s into 2s and overs spent laboriously collecting singles when struck by a dry patch. 

Lewis is an all or nothing cricketer. Nothing about his batting will inspire coaches to draw notes in their manual. 

Probably,  Jayawardene or Dravid won’t be able to name their favourite Evin Lewis stroke. 

He’s the 4*4 off-roader, one that can readily dart on unchartered territories. 

It’ll play rough. 

But it’ll be a thrilling journey once the waggon keeps ongoing. The trick is, it’s got to find the terrain it fancies. 

But one wonders, what if Evin Lewis would’ve applied himself. Maybe, just a little. 

A T20 doesn’t mean that you go on an all-out attack from the ball go. You can just hang in there. 

The trick is to cut loose after 5-6 overs if you cannot middle one too many almost immediately. 

What if, Evin Lewis had seen Kieron Pollard, the man who so beautifully applied himself?

What if, he would’ve just spoken to the big man about how to pace an inning. 

Surely, for someone who already has a T20 average in the upper reaches of 30, with close to 650 runs under his belt, it cannot be that Lewis’ game is devoid of talent. 

You cannot just go on to blindly blasting away a score of 125 against India. Similarly, you cannot travel to the sub-continent and play Shakib and Mustafizur and launch yourself into a 36-ball-89. 

There are things that T20 batsmen do. There are things that only the likes of Evin Lewis can accomplish. 

But everybody can learn to apply themselves. Everybody can adjust to the game, what the team demands. 

For now, Lewis must sit down with himself and ask himself as to how serious was he when he boldly declared a couple of summers ago, “ I want to be the next Chris Gayle!”