Rishabh Pant and the stirring power of the second chance

Rishabh Pant’s was the second terrible car accident in Indian cricket. In the first, six decades ago Tiger Pataudi, then 20, lost an eye but had the strength of character to play Test cricket within six months and later lead India. Pant, older at 25 when he had his accident, had already led India (in a T20 International), and missed 15 Tests while he was recovering. “I felt my time in this world was up,” he said later of his accident.

Many felt Pant’s career had ended, others feared he might not walk again. But cricket, a game of second chances, gave him a second chance. Pant accepted with a mixture of gratitude and glee. His century in Chennai was a triumph of courage and inner belief.

What a comeback!

The mischievous stroke play, the impish sense of humour and the precision of his sixes should not detract from what the century represented: a comeback of epic proportions. When international sportsmen overcome the odds in such style, it sends out a message to those inclined to give up at the first hurdle. Pant updated us on his rehabilitation throughout. It’s a story of the spirit kept alive through marginal progress.

There was the time he posted a video on dramatically throwing away his crutch (“No more crutches day”, he called it), and then when he climbed stairs. It was slow and frustrating, but Pant had a young body and a strong mind. His surgeon said, “When I told Rishabh 18 months were needed he responded with ‘I am going to show you I can do it in 12 months.’”

The longing for a second chance is central to our existence as human beings, something we are aware of deep within us, and recognise in others. “Next time I will do better,” is a promise we make when we mess it up the first time — the implication being that there will be a next time.

Back in the mix

Pant’s 39 in the first innings showed promise till he bottom-edged an intended cut. Next time, he must have told himself, he would do better. That 39 suggested a person returning to his old haunts and reconnecting with some familiar places. Pant didn’t look like he owned the place, but was indicating he had been there before.

In the second innings, there was no such awkwardness. He clearly owned the place. And to such an extent that he was telling the enemy at the gate where to place his fielder if they wanted to stop him.

The strokes are best described as Rishabhian: the last moment recoil and swing that sends the bowler into the stands over fine leg, rising with the bounce to cut square. It was a reminder that Pant is one of the hardest hitters of a cricket ball, a fact emphasised when off spinner Mehidy Hasan Miraz clung on to a missile of a return catch and then spent the rest of the session wringing his hands.

This was the Pant of old: inventive, capable of reducing international bowlers to tears, and a communicator of joy. There was no scaling down of aspiration. Since the accident, said Pataudi, “I have had to compromise with my ambition to become a truly great batsman. I have concentrated instead on trying to make myself a useful one, and a better fielder than my father was.” I always found that wonderfully stirring and poignant.

Pant’s had a big influence on a couple of series (in Australia), and we’ll have to work to keep him quiet, said Australian skipper Pat Cummins looking ahead to the India series commencing in November.

Pant bats like no one has before him, and even in the era of the IPL stands out for his creativity at the crease. He also has a quality uncommon among those who have played for India — a disregard for personal milestones. He hit the second ball he received in Test cricket for six. In 34 Tests he has six centuries, but six scores in the nineties too!

The second coming sees a batter who pulled himself off the edge, and, as he has said often, is grateful to life. A self-aware sportsman is a greater threat to the opposition.