Blackwood and Samuels: A contrasting double-act

Marlon Samuels isn't known to show anything approaching haste when he runs between wickets, but here he was, scurrying as fast as his legs could manage, taking a short detour to avoid running into the bowler as he reached the other end. This was the 30th ball of his innings; this was his first run.

The last time Samuels played a Test match at Sabina Park, he had made two-ball ducks in both innings. He had endured quite a wait to score his first run at his home ground in nearly four years.

The crowd was small, but they made a big noise now, whistles and applause, the piercing cry of a conch.

Two days before the game, Samuels had spoken of wanting to "show my Jamaican people what they have been seeing over the years, me coming out here, playing shots, and just enjoying myself in the middle". Now, on day one of the Test, he had walked in with his five-year-old son Dimitri, who had been the mascot at the toss, in the crowd.

Playing shots and enjoying himself would have been the farthest thing from Samuels' mind when he took guard. West Indies were 4 for 2, and the two wickets had fallen off successive deliveries. He had made a pair in his last Test at this venue; now he had to prevent an Ishant Sharma hat-trick.

The pitch was green, it was moist, and his captain had chosen to bat first. The first ball he faced jagged back, climbed from a good length, and hit him high on the front pad. Not convincing by any means, but the hat-trick was averted.

West Indies had added a mere three runs to their score when Rajendra Chandrika hung his bat out at a rising away-seamer from Mohammed Shami, and nicked to gully. In walked Jermaine Blackwood.

Two local boys in partnership, just the sort of thing the crowd might have come to watch, though they would probably have preferred West Indies to have made at least a hundred more runs before they joined each other.

Samuels had made a fifty in his last innings, the second innings of West Indies' innings defeat in the first Test in Antigua. In his ten most recent Test innings before that, he had made 11, 0, 13, 6, 9, 3, 0, 19, 4 and 1. Blackwood, meanwhile, came into this Test match with scores of 16, 4, 0, 0, 28, 20, 10, 0 and 0. Some may have counted him lucky that his captain, while picking an extra fast bowler for this Test, had kept faith in him and instead dropped a bowling allrounder with a half-century in the first Test.

Blackwood left the second ball he faced, bowled by Shami. The charitable explanation may have been that he trusted the bounce. It was probably more likely, given the form he was in, that he had misjudged the line. The ball bounced over off stump, and didn't miss by much. Not convincing, but a ball survived.

Two balls later, he scored his first runs of the series. The ball was full, though not a half-volley, and he went after it and got four runs, even if the ball went squarer than he probably intended, slicing off the face of his bat and racing past point.

By the 10th over, West Indies had moved to 21 for 3. Samuels was still on 0, off 23 balls. He had been beaten attempting one wild drive, but had otherwise been leaving everything outside off stump, crabbing across the crease before lifting his bat over his head. He had inside-edged one ball into his pad, and was lucky it hadn't gone to either short leg or short midwicket. He had played the lifting ball well, bat tucked close to his chest and bottom hand barely touching the handle.

It was a fraught existence, but there was a method to it.

You couldn't say the same about Blackwood, not just yet. He had moved to 13 and had hit two more fours, one a top-edged hook, the other a glance that only seemed half-controlled.

But now, Ishant sent down a full ball wide of off stump. Traditional coaching manuals tell you to get your head over the ball to drive, but plenty of great batsmen have driven with an entirely different technique, leaning back and lashing through the ball with a rotary, whiplash bat-swing. Don Bradman drove that way. So did Garfield Sobers. And so did George Headley, whose statue - hooking rather than driving - stands outside Sabina Park.

Blackwood isn't Bradman or Sobers or Headley, but he played a drive in their style, upper body leaning away from the ball rather than into it, and the ball flashed between bowler and short extra-cover. There was no mid-off.

Two balls later, another fullish ball, though nowhere near a half-volley. Once again Blackwood leaned back, flung his arms through the ball, and sent it skimming low over bowler, umpire and boundary rope.

The drive is cricket's definitive shot, central to the tug-of-war between bat and ball. Most of the other classic attacking shots tend to come off bad balls. Not always so with the drive. Batsmen get rank half-volleys every now and then, but more often, particularly at the highest level, the balls they drive occupy a grey area between good and bad.

It's an area of negotiation, a constantly shape-shifting zone full of questions. A skillful bowler poses those questions with great deliberation. How full do I need to land the ball for you to dare to drive me? How far outside off stump are you prepared to reach? How good is your technique?

All these questions have different answers, depending on the surface, the atmosphere, and, obviously, the batsman. Some try to force the bowler away from this grey zone by ignoring the bait. Samuels, apart from one indiscretion, seemed to be adopting this approach.

Others accept the invitation and try to show the bowler how good, how safe, and how productive their drives are. Almost like they're saying, "Try something else, mate."

Blackwood was going after anything remotely in his hitting arc, but this wasn't about showing his mastery of the drive, as much as a recognition that he might as well score as much as he could, as quickly as he could, before the wicket-taking ball came along.

The ball soared over the straight boundary, and the conches blared, just as they would when Samuels scored his first run. A smattering of Jamaicans celebrating two Jamaicans raising the small possibility of a fightback.

Blackwood's willingness to drive had an immediate effect on Ishant. Perhaps this was what the batsman wanted; three balls later, a short ball, wide outside off stump. Blackwood's response was an uppercut, airy, too close to Amit Mishra at point but going too fast for him to get his hands to the ball.

India rang the changes, and Blackwood continued to attack anything remotely drive-able. Down the track to R Ashwin to hit him into the North Stand; a genuine half-volley from Umesh Yadav, smashed through mid-off; flight over the eyeline from Amit Mishra, and a flat-bat wallop for another straight six.

That six brought up his half-century, off 47 balls. At the other end, Samuels was batting on 7 off 54.

Together, in their contrasting ways, they had given India something to think about. They had rattled India. Umesh dropped short, Samuels uppercut him for six. Then, Blackwood fell with three balls to go for lunch, to a marginal lbw call, but his effect continued to be felt after the break; Ishant kept pitching short to Samuels, and went for four fours in two overs; a pull and three successive square cuts.

For perhaps the first time in the series, India's bowlers were being seriously challenged. But almost inevitably, the challenge was short-lived. Samuels launched R Ashwin for the sweetest six you'll ever see, and then, stepping out again, failed to reach the pitch of a ball laden with topspin. Inside edge, caught at short leg.

Back walked Samuels, out for 37. A slow start, an earlier finish than he would have liked, but in between, briefly, he had given a Jamaican crowd, his son among them, something to cheer. He had played his shots, perhaps he had even enjoyed himself.