The surgeon and the sledgehammer give Sri Lanka a new batting identity

"High control percentage? Good. High strike rate? Good. Low dot-ball percentage? Gooood." - Joey from Friends, presumably, watching Pavan Rathnayake bat on Thursday.

In the classic arc in the sitcom, Joey defends Rachel's accidental Shepherd's-Pie-meets-English-Trifle hybrid by appreciating the individual brilliance of the disparate layers. In Pallekele, Rathnayake served up a hybrid innings of his own, proving that in the modern T20 game, you can indeed have your jam, your custard, and your meat all at once.

The prevailing theory about T20 batting suggests that high control and high strike rates are natural enemies: to score fast, one must embrace the chaos of risk. Yet, against a ragged Oman attack, Rathnayake confounded the naysayers. He ransacked 60 off just 28 balls, all while anchoring a performance that propelled Sri Lanka towards their first 200-plus first-innings total since January 2025.

For the Sri Lanka selectors, Rathnayake's knock was a gamble paying off. He was drafted into the shortest format on the momentum of promising domestic form and a sparkling ODI century against England. His T20 profile at the time was sketchy at best; a strike rate of 100, followed by a streaky 40 off 22 against England that answered few questions. In Pallekele, however, that sketch was fleshed out.

Rathnayake's was the quintessential "busy" innings. With ten singles and six twos, 36% of his runs came by finding gaps. His eight boundaries were a masterclass in precision over power, featuring a surgical straight drive and cuts needled through the smallest of windows between backward point and short third. It was the exact blueprint batting coach Vikram Rathour had called for - scoring at pace without becoming overly reliant on the low-percentage lottery of six-hitting.

"After the first powerplay, because the boundaries are quite big, myself and Kusal aiya [Mendis] spoke about just taking singles and twos against the spinners," explained Rathnayake after the game, as his initiative allowed Kusal to play the long game during his 61 off 45.

But if Rathnayake was the surgeon's scalpel, what followed was the sledgehammer, as Dasun Shanaka's unadulterated belligerence sought to build on Rathnayake's mercurial chaos. Both men faced just two dot balls each, but where Rathnayake tickled and caressed, Shanaka was all power.

The vultures have long circled the Sri Lanka skipper, labelling him a one-dimensional luxury, a man who clears ropes but cannot steer a ship. His recent form has been a rollercoaster: two scores at strike rates north of 170 amidst nine single-digit failures. Yet, when the alignment is right, there is no one in the Sri Lanka dressing room that can replicate his impact. Whether it was his 22* to force a Super Over against India or the 34 off nine that stunned Pakistan in Dambulla, Shanaka remains the side's ultimate disruptor.

For years, the critique of Shanaka has been as much about his team-mates as it has been about him. Sri Lanka's top order has rarely provided the platform his power-hitting requires, often forcing him into the role of a crisis manager - a role that has never quite fit. On Thursday, the pieces fell into place.

Shanaka arrived at 136 for 3 in the 14th over. For once, he wasn't asked to redeem a flagging innings or chase an impossible target. His mandate was simple: enter, cause chaos, leave. By the time his 20-ball stay ended, the total had rocketed to 199. He had been in the middle for less than five overs and faced just over three of them, but the damage was absolute.

To add the final layer of icing to aforementioned trifle, Kamindu Mendis arrived to strike a seven-ball 19, outrunning everyone's strike rate with a late-overs cameo.

For a side haunted by batting inconsistencies for nearly a decade, Thursday provided a glimpse of a potential new identity, even if it came against an opposition out of its depth. Rathnayake and Shanaka showed that while there are multiple routes to a winning total, the best results happen when the surgeon and the sledgehammer work in tandem.

Joey Tribbiani would have approved. It tasted of victory.