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Make room, Anil Kumble, and welcome Rishabh Pant: India's warrior invokes braveheart spirit; defies logic and sanity
After his heroics during a 59-minute stay at the crease with a broken toe, Rishabh Pant can now put his feet up and relish Anil Kumble's elite, exalted company.
Anil Kumble. Ten for 74. 619 Test wickets. The leg-spinner with the temperament of a fast bowler. A thinking cricketer, looking every inch the engineer he is by education, whether donning his spectacles or not. A champion performer, come rain or shine, at home or overseas, as general or foot soldier.
Anil Kumble. Also the man who defied a broken jaw to bowl 14 overs in a Test match, on a flat track at the Antigua Recreation Ground in St John’s, in May 2002. Who trapped Brian Lara leg before during that unchanged spell, and should have had Carl Hooper out in similar fashion. Who was told by umpire David Shepherd to not talk because of the fracture – the legacy of a bouncer from Mervyn Dillon that hit him flush on the jaw the previous day – only for the bowler to counter, “But Shep, how then will I appeal?”
Anil Kumble. Who came on to bowl, apparition-like, the jaw held in place by wires and bandages, because he ‘didn’t want to sit around’ while waiting to board his flight later in the night. Who wanted to go home ‘with the thought that I tried my best.’
Maybe it was brave, courageous, heroic. Maybe it was silly, foolish, ill-advised. Maybe it was all of these things put together. Whatever it was, it elevated the contest. It showed what going above and beyond the call of duty truly meant.
Make room, Anil Kumble. You now have company in that brave/courageous/heroic/ silly/foolish/ill-advised club. In the form of a pint-sized warrior also with the heart of a lion, the grit and gumption that you so pride in. Make room, Anil, and welcome Rishabh Pant.
What Pant did out in the middle for 59 minutes at Old Trafford on a drama-soaked Thursday afternoon defies description. Explanation. Maybe logic and sanity. But what is Rishabh Pant without the unexpected, without the unpredictable, without the dramatic?
When he was driven off the field on Wednesday evening, the outside of his right foot swollen and bloody after edging the ball, the universal belief was that this excellent India-England series had seen the last of Pant. There was no way he could bat again, could he? How could he, when he could barely put any weight on his leg? End of the tour, out for six weeks, the whispers gathered pace on Thursday morning, whispers that seemed well founded when he didn’t arrive at the ground by bus from the hotel with the rest of the team. R&R, we presumed, in as much of the second ‘R’ – relaxation – he could get in his current physical state.
From being 'ruled out' to batting with a fracture foot
There was no sign of Pant when Ravindra Jadeja and Shardul Thakur resumed the Indian first innings. When the former was dismissed within the first five minutes, it was Washington Sundar who replaced him. Of course, it would be Washington. Who else could it be?
A little while later, the camera panned towards the Indian dressing room, and who would loom in our sights than Pant, in his white India shirt? Ah, we said, good on him, here to support his mates. Then came official word that he would be ‘available to bat as per team requirements’. Hello, what’s that again?
As if on cue, minutes later, Thakur fell, caught at gully. The crowd went nuts. For the brilliance of the Ben Duckett catch, sure, but also because of what they had espied as they cast their eyes towards the Indian balcony. Pant emerged from the dressing room, hobbling, limping, wincing. He took an eternity walking down the stairs, every step an exercise in pain management. Thakur, perhaps taken by surprise at the sight of Pant in full battle gear, waited at the edge of the boundary, inside the ground, for his braveheart mate to cross the ropes. Later, with barely concealed admiration, he was to say, “His pain-bearing capacity is very high.” Tell us something we don’t know, Shardul.
In a hard-nosed era, the opposition might have contemplated timing Pant out but we all know what would have happened if England had even jokingly appealed, right? England suddenly had to recalibrate their plans, which wouldn’t have included Pant at the start of the day. How well could he run? How fast could he run? Could he run? Wait, could he even stand?
Pant could. Stand. Walk-run. Smash a slower one for six. Time a full, wide ball outside off through covers for four. He could get to his fifty. He could raise his bat, soak in the applause. All the while wincing inwardly, his face offering no clue to his suffering. When he was dismissed, bowled by Archer, Ben Stokes, himself an indefatigable soul, bumped hands in respectful admiration. On the balcony, Pant’s colleagues stood up, doffing their invisible hats. The protagonist who uses his bat as a scimitar this time used it as a crutch, sidling up the stairs, changing into his shorts and training tee, watching the rest of the day’s action from the dressing room, horsing around like always and travelling back to the hotel in the team bus. All in a day’s work, huh, Rishabh? Now put your feet up and relish Anil Kumble’s elite, exalted company.
