Instantly conceived, definitely original

Virender Sehwag: unrestrained, unrehearsed, inscrutable © AFP

This is a different kind of cricket. Not the soft artistry of VVS Laxman, not the classical, streamlined beauty of Rahul Dravid, not the scientific art of Sachin Tendulkar's genius. This isn't the moody strokeplay of Sourav Ganguly, nor the muscular presence and timing of Yuvraj Singh. This is somehow a bit more uninhibited. At times, it's easier to define things by describing what they aren't. When you think of Sehwag, you first think of unrestrained, unrehearsed, inscrutable. Everything seems instantly conceived. Everything is very definitely original.

It is easy to get carried away by the seemingly spontaneous flow of Sehwag's shotmaking. When hours of careful study of bowlers' techniques align with an unerring ability to pick line and, more importantly, length early, you feel a batsman is playing purely by instinct. It is an instinct that has been finely honed. Sehwag possesses a fine cricketing mind and he plays the ball very late. Nearly always, he's on tiptoe and, now and then, his feet are off the ground. This is what allows him the freedom to improvise.

Sehwag's confidence in his abilities borders on cricketing swagger. It is a different brand of arrogance. It isn't the restrained confidence of a Tendulkar. It's a bit like Richards. With bowlers bowling to Tendulkar, especially these days, it is an acknowledgement of mastery. With Sehwag, it's almost a fear of flogging. There's a crucial difference with Richards however. Viv was the master of machismo, of the exaggerated strut and the flourish of the follow-through. It was muscular masculinity expressed through sport. Where Richards's arrogance was significant in its exaggeration, Sehwag's is apparent in its minimising.

Sehwag doesn't hold his pose after a flashing cover-drive, the bat is brought back down from the follow-through very quickly, as if it wasn't such a big deal after all. He might take a couple of short steps about the crease, look down the handle of his bat held away from him at an angle, and then he's ready again. His is almost an oriental spunk. Viv's cricket was also a statement of a people, Sehwag's is simply the sporting expression of a free-spirited individual. To bowlers, both might appear the same.

There are resemblances to Javed Miandad in his very streetsmart approach to cricket. But the jauntiness is at variance with Miandad's. He may assume his stance well outside leg as he did to Stuart MacGill in Sydney. He might splay his left leg and hit the first ball of a new spell for six over the bowler's head. But, the jauntiness isn't in your face like Miandad's. He very rarely provokes, he generally only reacts.

From a batsman who modelled some of his early batsmanship on Tendulkar, Sehwag has blossomed quickly into a batsman with his very own range of strokes. Not many now will mistake him for Sachin. That flick off his toes that resembles Sachin's in body balance has a table-tennis-like flourish, you can feel the face of the bat turning on the ball. Sachin seems to use the pace of the ball, Sehwag looks to give it a real whip. His vast array of off-side shots are close to all his own. He might have initially borrowed the upper cut from Sachin, but he plays it far more regularly than Sachin these days. There is incredibly, at least one six over point every big innings. There is a difference even in the way he ducks under the short ball. He doesn't necessarily follow the ball into the keeper's gloves, it's as if he's saying, the ball's gone over my head, why bother looking.

He has succeeded at opening because he has stuck to his game. Shrewdly, in Tests, he gives the first hour to the bowler and then opens out. The defence has tightened and he leaves a lot more outside off. His camaraderie with Akash Chopra reminds you sometimes of the relationship between Desmond Haynes and Gordon Greenidge. His acute cricketing alertness makes you feel he's rarely rushed when taking those quick singles. Mostly, you see him ease to the striker's end at a short, light canter.

The same alertness is why he's a very good fielder and an excellent catcher. Ajit Agarkar and Dravid were the architects of that famous Adelaide win, but it was the brilliant, full-length diving tumble from Sehwag to catch Simon Katich at the end of an exhausting first day that provided the initial spark. Earlier in the year, he'd held a few very sharp ones at slip to help Ashish Nehra run through England in the World Cup game at Durban. His first movement to the ball is so well-timed that the rest seems easy in comparison. To top it all off, he's a half-decent offie as well.

Often it is flippantly claimed that there's a method to his madness. I beg to differ. This is no madness. We see so much of what's conventional that we can't seem to recognise celebration. It isn't that he doesn't respect cricket's time-tested techniques, it's just that he's very alert to its intricacies. He can conceive attack when so many would defend. It's not as if he doesn't understand the importance of footwork and getting behind the line. He appreciates these for what they are. They are means to an end. That of hitting a cricket ball consistently with the middle of the bat. He does this by a wonderful combination of bat-speed and fine balance. This is a celebration of rare talent. Not someone having a waft in the wind.