Johannesburg, September 27: For an hour or so on Friday night Paul Collingwood was a prince of the batting arts. He danced two paces down the pitch and flicked a six over mid-wicket as if he was Sachin Tendulkar.
Warmed up, he produced a cover drive for four that could have been struck by Ricky Ponting, and pulled another six which Sanath Jayasuriya might have equalled but not surpassed.
Here was footwork, timing, power. But the main constituent was sheer grit, a bloody-mindedness that is Collingwood’s alone. There will never come a day when a batsman plays a stroke that suggests to the observer it comes straight from the Collingwood canon – unless it be an unwieldy shovel over mid-wicket.
Any player of the future being compared to Collingwood will be the object of a much greater compliment. “That lad reminds me of Colly” will be a testament to toughness, determination, single-mindedness, dedication, fitness, desire. Above it will be a paean of praise to one who has made the utmost of his talent, has squeezed it dry and then pressed it some more. He will probably have to come from Durham.
–Agencies