India vs West Indies: Virat Kohli channels aggression to smash 94 runs off 50 balls

By R Kaushik

Instead of being consumed by personal battle, Kohli channeled his aggression to play a masterpiece of an innings in Hyderabad

The scream of frustration drowned out the cacophony of 32,000 adoring fans. Virat Kohli had just gone down on his right knee, attempting to slog-sweep left-arm spinner Khary Pierre into orbit beyond the mid-wicket boundary. Instead, all he managed was to drag the ball, along the turf, to the fielder on the fence. As he got up and trotted across to the non-striker's end, Kohli gave vent to his emotions. His body wasn't doing his mind's bidding, so clearly, his bat wasn't doing his body's.

Seldom has one man conjured an innings of such striking contrasts, and that too in a 20-over game, as India's captain did at the Rajiv Gandhi International Cricket Stadium against West Indies on Friday night. Trying to hit the ball too hard and losing his shape in the bargain, Kohli Mark I was unrecognizable as the towering, dominant, most complete batsman of his generation. The man who places a premium on orthodoxy and correctness even in a format that most others feel necessitates a less conventional approach seemed to have uncharacteristically, almost unwillingly, been sucked into the T20 mindset as he forsook timing for power and embraced the cuteness that occasionally entails exposing the stumps to the bowlers in the quest for quick runs.

There is, though, something about champions that enables them to embrace course-correction faster and more tellingly than the less gifted. If there was any surprise at all, it was that it took Kohli the better part of 30 deliveries to revert to type.

Once he did, the impact was immediate. Stunningly so. The struggles of a few minutes back receded to the realms of fuzzy memory as the master reappeared with an incandescence of strokeplay that is unique to him. Admittedly, there was a little help from Kesrick Williams, the paceman to whom Indian fans will perhaps dedicate this victory. Had it not been for him getting under Kohli's skin, who knows, India might not have achieved their highest successful chase in T20Is, the skipper might not have finished with his highest score at the international level in this format.

The switch that ushered in Kohli Mark II rested, unwittingly, with Jason Holder. The former captain floated up a full ball outside off. Kohli, still till the proverbial last second, eased his front foot forward, used his bat as an extension of his arms and sweetly deposited the ball into the second tier well behind long-off. Uppal went mad; not only did they celebrate Kohli's tryst with another half-century, they also sensed that he was on to something special. Oh, was he, really.

From then on, for the next 15 balls, Kohli was at his imperious, majestic best. He was still angry, perhaps as much at himself as with Williams who, it must be said, probably accidentally got in Kohli's way on more than one occasion. But it was also one of those rare nights when Kohli needed to whip himself up into frenzied anger, much like John McEnroe would do on a tennis court. Instead of being consumed by that rage, Kohli channeled it to fuel himself into uncorking one of the modern-day masterpieces studded with some of the most extraordinary strokes possible in a 20-minute passage.

Nothing symbolizes Kohli on top of his game more than punchy cover-drives with hardly a followthrough, but when he starts taking balls from the stumps, or just outside off, and deposits them over mid-wicket by breaking his wrists and bringing his strong bottom-hand into play, you better stop blinking. This stroke is a more polished, less extravagant version of Mahendra Singh Dhoni's patented helicopter shot. When it is played with supreme felicity and effortlessness, it is a sight for sore eyes, a statement of authority if not arrogance that drives daggers deep into the heart of the befuddled bowler.

Williams, hapless Williams, was the first to be subjected to that ignominy. Still smarting at slights perceived and otherwise, Kohli used his bat as a notebook to repeatedly tick off Williams' name after disdainfully whip-drive-flicking him into the stands. Apparently, Williams had done unto Kohli the same in Jamaica (in July 2017!). What memory! What recall in the heat of pressure-soaked battle! And what confidence to pull off that gesture when the job still needed to be done - 43 off 27. "What have you done, Kesrick?" Pollard might well have asked.

After that sensational six that mocked the distance of the mid-wicket boundary, it was vintage Kohli, the Kohli that the cricketing world has come to love and celebrate and, if you are the receiving end, envy. Punching gloves animatedly with often amused batting partners, he ripped the bowling to shreds. Only Sheldon Cottrell commanded respect. The rest was easy pickings, the once wide gulf between runs required and balls remaining gobbled up in double quick time.

The coup de grace still remained to be delivered. That came in the penultimate over with Williams - who else? - in operation. 13 needed from 11, full ball outside off. Shifting his body weight just a little to open up the off-side, Kohli went inside-out to scatter the spectators beyond the cover boundary. He liked it, as evidenced by an angry punch of the bat. Two balls later, it was all over. Another full ball, another elegant drive with the head down, another mellifluous contact, another gigantic six, this time over long-off.

Kohli stood in the middle of the pitch, helmet whipped off, surveying the scene of battle like a general who had carried his troops to victory. He must have noticed West Indies, bruised and battered, their mammoth 207 for five not even remotely adequate. He must have heard the roars of approbation ringing around him in the amphitheater. Or, he must have just realised that when Kohli does what Kohli is meant to do, the effort behind the effortlessness is known to hardly anyone apart from him and his mates.

Virat Kohli, 94 not out, 50 balls, six fours, six sixes hardly does justice to Friday night. Seeing, after all, is believing.
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