Rishabh Pant moves to his own beat
Rishabh Pant would have been right at home in England in an era gone by. Imagine him as one of the schoolboys in Cambridge in the late 1950s and early 1960s, an eccentric inspired by the Beat Generation of America, walking around with little regard for rules and convention, rejecting materialism that came with the post-war relative prosperity, looking all hip and dandy, doing things for rhyme or reason not apparent to observers, offending and confounding anyone who thinks they are an authority figure.
Pant is actually quite at home even now. Only Alec Stewart and Matt Prior have more hundreds as wicketkeeper in this country. No visiting wicketkeeper has more than one. He has scored more hundreds in this country than Sunil Gavaskar and Virat Kohli.
All he needs is long hair, a fisherman sweater, kohl in his eye, and he could somersault all over the streets. Rish the Beat, he could call himself, along the lines of the mad-genius singer-songwriter and guitarist of that era, Syd Barrett, who went by Syd the Beat for a while.
Pant dances down the second ball he faces. Seemingly goes into his bunker. Occasionally tries to ramp-pull Josh Tongue, the bowler who troubled him the most. Plays proper dirty slogs off Chris Woakes, one of them in the last over of the day. Charges Brydon Carse early on the second morning.
When the opposition wicketkeeper, Jamie Smith, tries to coax him into a reckless shot against Shoaib Bashir, Pant tells him the bowler is bowling well and the field is spread out so he can’t. And still goes ahead and slog-sweeps the next ball for the 79th six of his career, going past MS Dhoni and behind only Virender Sehwag and Rohit Sharma among Indians.
He brings up his hundred with a one-handed six, having fallen in the 90s seven times, the same number as his centuries now. On three occasions, trying to hit a six. Once, he hit a six outside the ground, the ball was lost, and he got out to the replacement ball on 99.
It’s like nothing really matters. What is a hundred? Just a material possession. The world is just random chaos we must embrace, we are but a minuscule part of what is just a pale blue dot, and the best we can do is live every moment to its fullest: cartwheel when we get a hundred, trudge back slower than Inzamam-ul-Haq when we miss it, sharing every expression of pain with the world. And then do the same all over again without a care for convention or hundreds or that pain of getting out to a creative shot.
Of course this is not the 1950s or 60s. Of course Pant is no shooting star. Since his debut, he is only the most consistent Test batter of the most high-profile and the most scrutinised Test team in the world. He just plays a high-pressure game with the lightness of a spiritually awakened person.
There has to be some method to Pant’s batting. Until he himself talks about it someday – or he could choose to keep the mystery about it alive – we can only look to make educated guesses from some of the trends.
He likes to go after seam bowlers early in the piece. He is more aggressive in more challenging conditions. He likes to hit balls where fielders aren’t, something ridiculously simple when spoken about but hard to execute.
Pant is susceptible to balls bowled on good length and angling across or seaming away from him. It would seem all his creative shots are designed to avoid facing those deliveries as much as he can.
After he charged down to Ben Stokes second ball, only one out of the next nine Stokes deliveries were pitched on that good length. In this innings, for example, he faced 108 balls of pace and played 22 false shots, a control percentage of a tick under 80. Only 35 of those 108 balls were on a good length of 6-8m from the stumps. He played 16 false shots to them.
Pant had a wider range of interception points than other batters. He was likelier than anyone else to meet a quick delivery either more than 3m down the wicket or 0.5m from the wicket. And still his average interception point was further down than others.
He thrives in this chaos where he has thrown the bowlers off their lengths. When he was playing just his second Test, having got off the mark with a six in his debut innings, he let Moeen Ali bowl good ball after good ball to him in Southampton. He tried to weather the storm in the traditional way. The storm didn’t subside. He ended up scoring a 29-ball duck, and said never again.
There must be no rhythm or plan for bowlers when they come at Pant. The bowlers must be forced to protect as many areas on the field as possible, giving him more room for error when he attacks. Even his batting coach mustn’t know the gameplan. There must not be any yardstick to measure his processes by. We must just turn up and wait for what treat Beat Rish throws at us.