Kane Williamson in action during Day 4 of the firs Test between New Zealand and Sri Lanka in Dunedin. Marty Melville / AFP
Kane Williamson in action during Day 4 of the firs Test between New Zealand and Sri Lanka in Dunedin. Marty Melville / AFP
Kane Williamson in action during Day 4 of the firs Test between New Zealand and Sri Lanka in Dunedin. Marty Melville / AFP
Kane Williamson in action during Day 4 of the firs Test between New Zealand and Sri Lanka in Dunedin. Marty Melville / AFP

Kane Williamson, in his quiet way, is destined to be New Zealand’s greatest batsman


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Last week Kane Williamson became the top-ranked Test batsman in the world. He did it in much the manner we have come to expect: quietly, unobtrusively doing some extraordinary things.

In this instance, he was scoring a hundred that led to his side completing what could have been — and what was hitherto shaping up to be — a tricky chase. Only three other batsmen managed fifties in that Hamilton Test against Sri Lanka on a surface that was positively grassy.

Now, it did not seam or swing as much as that layer of grass initially suggested, but there was plenty in it. If nothing else the fast men profited from the bounce, as well as the modern, oft-careless batting predilection to chasing short balls and bouncers and not just letting them be. Williamson himself had succumbed to one such temptation in the first innings.

What did he do this time?

“All the guys like to play the pull, but like any shot, on some surfaces it’s important you try to select the right ball,” he said. “I was a victim of that in the first innings as well, having played the pull shot a lot in previous games and thinking I could go out and do that again. I wanted to make sure I was sounder in my decision making in the second innings.”

In other words, he simply decided to eliminate risk. The last five words, if you were ever to tweet a tribute to Williamson’s career, would be the most suitable summation. It is not as simple as that, obviously. Sussing out what works best in given conditions is what all international batsmen are meant to do.

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But the key is two-fold: first, to be technically able to do it and second, most importantly, to be able to subjugate yourself to that decision. To choose to not play a particular stroke can be more difficult than the playing of many strokes.

But this is part of the wider Williamson leitmotif, of constant self-subjugation to whatever scenery, circumstance, or cause he finds himself in.

In a recent magazine profile, those who share a dressing room with him pointed out that with Williamson “it is never about him”. He has, it is said, no idea what his ESPNcricinfo profile page looks like.

In a perceptive column, former New Zealand captain Martin Crowe suggested that it is precisely this attribute that is the making of him as a batsman.

“Williamson is a difficult player to focus against,” Crowe wrote. “Due to his humility and lack of ego, it is harder for bowlers and captains to get ramped up about the absolute necessity to remove him. His passive body language gives very little to feed off … Williamson has that X-factor that no one can quite pin down. Frankly, he is David playing like Goliath.”

Last year when New Zealand toured the UAE, Williamson filled in for Brendon McCullum as captain for the ODIs. He spoke so softly, in such short, clipped sentences — as if words should also be efficiently used — that he could have been playing a side actor in some low-budget, mumblecore film.

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Crowe’s words are especially resonant as it is from Crowe that Williamson is destined to take over the mantle of the greatest New Zealand batsman.

The hundred against Sri Lanka helped him go past McCullum’s New Zealand record of most runs in a calendar year (in 2014).

It was his 13th hundred, which is already the second-most by a batsman from his country.

It is inconceivable, that at 25, even accounting for the fact that New Zealand play fewer Tests than the bigger countries, Williamson will not have gone past Crowe’s record of 17 tons very soon.

A selfish, aesthetically fuelled (and so, thoroughly inconsequential) wish would be to see some more flash, a little more fire and even a little human vulnerability in Williamson’s batting — the exact opposite of what Crowe sees as his strengths.

That could just be because the very top of Test batting tree right now, with Williamson, Joe Root and Steve Smith occupying three of the four top spots, feels a little too similar and interchangeable.

Of course, each is different. But does not a related strain of bloodlessness run through their batting?

Perhaps that is just a by-product of how efficient and sterile their dominance appears, or merely a natural evolution after years of being childhood prodigies destined to succeed.

Perhaps it is just the contrast with some of the others in the top 10: AB de Villiers, David Warner, Younis Khan and Hashim Amla.

To watch them bat is to truly understand and appreciate the idiosyncrasies, and scale, of batting as a sporting discipline.

But this is just quibbling for quibbling’s sake. Like Smith and ultimately Root as well, batting will not be Williamson’s sole occupation for much longer. He will take over from McCullum as captain in February. To no great surprise it is a post he has already shown considerable aptitude for.

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