Cricket World Cup: How Pat Cummins played Glenn Maxwell’s guide, handler and the trusted wingman

Pat Cummins’ face when he is about to hurl a bouncer can be quite a sight: fiery eyes, flaring nostrils, lips stretched out in angry grimace, and at times the tongue too sticks out, like the harbinger of wrath. At all other times, he is in utter control out there, gelled hair in place, a smile ever-ready to erupt; somehow he even manages to celebrate hard-fought vital breakthroughs as private moments in public view – he will put his head down, away from the glare, and roar as he pumps his fist, but makes it difficult for cameras to zoom in quickly enough for a visceral shot. It’s only when bowling the bouncer that his real battle-face is revealed.

Even when another Glenn Maxwell six sunk into the stands to bring up an incredible Australian win against Afghanistan, Cummins quietly raised his bat from the non-striker’s end, not to celebrate his part in the partnership, but to tap his hand on the bat to congratulate Maxwell, Australia’s last-action hero. He quietly walked across to envelop Maxwell in a hug, and later stood with his teammates with a laugh that suggested the incredulity of what he had shared out there, with his mouth often repeating, ‘wow, wow’.

For Maxwell to belt that insane once-in-a-lifetime knock is one thing but Cummins’ was a lesson in restraint. Not even Maxwell’s physical breakdown tempted him into anything irrational – a lesser man would have succumbed to the saviour complex and tried to slog a few boundaries to relieve the pressure to show he was taking on the onus. Not Cummins. If anything, he began to defend more dourly. Without Maxwell, Australia wouldn’t have won. Without Cummins’ unbeaten 68-ball 12, Maxwell couldn’t have won it.

He was also calm-headed enough to devise a plan in all that chaos as Maxwell would share. “We came out with a plan to stay at the same end for a little bit until I could sort of get some movement back. I suppose, for me, it was still trying to be positive.”

For Cummins, it was still trying to be positively-negative. Perhaps the decision to stick to one end came after Maxwell hobbled across, despite visual protests from Cummins to not attempt the single, and fell to the ground, fully stretched in sheer pain.

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The Afghanistan players all rushed past the prostrated Maxwell, attended by the physio, and huddled together. The last to join was Naveen-ul-Haq, walking briskly but not running and when he joined the huddle, he gestured towards the fallen Maxwell and waved his hands as if to suggest – don’t worry guys, he is gone.

Good company

He might well have been gone, but Maxwell had the company of Captain Wise. As soon as the physio left, Cummins was in an earnest chat with Maxwell.

Now, in an evening most bizarre, most outrageous, some semblance of sense began to fall in place. Maxwell stayed at his end. Cummins was never stepping out of his end. And as he began to catch his breath back, regain some sort of composure, Maxwell began to dismissively wave his hands about and the white ball began to fly into the Mumbai night sky. It needed Tony Greig or Bill Lawry screaming their heads off as the perfect background score, and the wise voice of Richie Benaud injecting in pause and reflection about Cummins’ priceless restraint. One can only imagine what he would have said with his inflection: “Marvellousssh from Pat, sometimesh, to do nothing is the greatesht thing to do.”

It would have been one thing if this was Cummins’ normal game. But it isn’t. Deadbatting is in Jason Gillespie’s soul. Unlike most lower-order batsmen, Cummins can alter it according to the situation. In the IPL, once against Mumbai Indians at the same ground, he walloped Jasprit Bumrah and Co for a 15-ball 56 with 6 sixes and 4 fours to win a game. “I am more surprised [with that innings]! It just came off. I was not trying to overthink. That’s really satisfying,” he had said then.

And that’s probably his strength. Not to overthink. He seems to be able to assess the situation and stick to a plan without getting lured into something unnecessary. Like he did in the first Ashes Test at Edgbaston in June, scripting a 73-ball 44 to take Australia to an improbable win. The batting plan that day sparkled with common sense.

On Tuesday, Afghans let their spinners have a go at Cummins, twisting their wrists and fingers in ways that would alarm physiotherapists, but the Aussie skipper was unmoved. The bat would carefully come in front of the pad to negate the LBW, and would deadbeat them away.

Only once did he show he was human, after all. On the last ball of the 38th over, off Naveen, and two balls after he saw Maxwell stretch into a Yoga dog’s pose at the other end, something snapped inside him – and he went for an expansive drive and the ball whistled past the edge. He never raised the bat that high again, until the very end when he lifted it to acknowledge the greatest ODI knock in history.