As they settled into their seats for the press conference, Jacques Kallis was insistent. Hashim Amla had to sit in the middle, flanked by the senior pro himself and the media manager. “The man who makes 250 deserves that,” Kallis quipped with a grin, a moment that felt less like banter and more like a coronation.
Days
earlier, Graeme Smith had lamented India’s loss of Rahul Dravid and VVS Laxman,
not for mere runs, but for the serenity they imparted under duress. How fitting
it would have been if Smith had also cast a glance inward and acknowledged that
in Kallis and Amla, South Africa possessed precisely such calm sentinels. When
South Africa’s innings lay in tatters at 6 for 2, it was these two who
constructed a monument of 500-plus, brick by painstaking brick.
Kallis: Architect at the Edge of Perfection
Much was
expected of Kallis, especially on the second morning. For decades, he has been
cricket’s embodiment of method and granite, a builder of rescue acts as if by
muscle memory. And yet on a pitch starting to writhe under the spell of Indian
spinners, he fell short of a long-awaited double-century, undone by a mix of
caution and cunning turn.
Ever the
stoic, Kallis dismissed the idea of sleepless nights. But the question
lingered, had the maestro, so often the bedrock, been momentarily unnerved by
the prospect of crossing an unbreached threshold?
Amla: The Silent Conqueror
If Kallis
was the grand old oak, then Amla was the river that ran alongside, silent yet
irresistible. Where Kallis fell, Amla pressed on, undistracted by the loss of
his seasoned partner. First with AB de Villiers, then with Mark Boucher, he
shepherded South Africa into ever more commanding pastures.
This was no
ordinary innings. It was a vigil that spanned more than 11 hours, punctuated by
spells of trial. Amit Mishra and Harbhajan Singh found a devilish turn,
repeatedly challenging Amla’s outside edge. Against Mishra alone, he eked out
just 34 runs off 139 balls, a statistic that would seem damning, were it not a
testament to his refusal to gift a wicket.
“There were
tough parts: the reverse swing, the spinners,” Amla would say later, a
craftsman humbly reviewing his blueprint. “Mishra beat the bat many, many
times, but you don’t look back and sigh.”
From Exile to Exemplar
How stark
the contrast from Amla’s first tentative steps on Indian soil in 2004-05, when
he mustered 24 and 2, burdened by external whispers of being a “quota player”
and internal doubts yet unresolved. By the time of the 2008 tour, his blade
began answering questions his heart had long wrestled with, compiling 307 runs
at an imposing average.
Now secure
not just in place but in spirit, Amla arrived as a batsman on merit, his race no
longer an asterisk, but merely a footnote to a story of unflinching evolution.
The Praise Chorus
“He’s come
a long way since last time in India,” Kallis remarked, speaking not just as a
teammate but as someone grateful for Amla’s steadying influence. While Kallis
spoke, Amla sat head bowed—mirroring his posture at the crease, a portrait of
humility.
“He’s a
fantastic guy to bat with,” Kallis continued, voice rising. “People wrote him
off early. The tough character he is, he proved them wrong. He’ll score a lot
of runs for South Africa in crucial moments.”
Gary
Kirsten, once Amla’s mentor in Pretoria and now India’s coach, added his voice:
“I knew the time would come when he’d get big hundreds for his country. He
knows how to bat for long periods. Full credit.”
Amla’s own
words bore the equilibrium of a man who sees beyond personal milestones:
“Scoring a maiden double on Indian soil is momentous, but more important was
putting the team in the best position.”
Redemption Arcs and Parallel Journeys
It’s
curious how cricket weaves parallel threads. Just as England remained a nemesis
for Kallis—save for brief interludes of brilliance—so too had early England
tours been harsh on Amla. The English pacemen in 2004-05 tore into him before
he could anchor himself, and the cynics’ whispers grew louder.
Being
dropped after Newlands might have been the most serendipitous wound. Instead of
being crushed by subsequent Australian annihilations, he returned to domestic
cricket, polished his technique, and came back to international cricket not
with hesitation, but hunger. The 149 against New Zealand was the start; what
followed was a blossoming that no critic could deny.
Shifting Foundations: Amla Frees Kallis
In the last
two years, Amla’s rise has been exponential, five centuries in 22 Tests,
averaging over 50. This solidity at No. 3 liberated Kallis, who now attacked
with a daring rarely permitted before. Once the implacable cornerstone like
India’s Dravid, Kallis could now be more cavalier, assured that the house
wouldn’t collapse if he fell.
So it was
in Australia, when South Africa chased down improbable targets, with Amla
playing second fiddle to Smith. Freed from stereotype, Kallis began scoring
faster, his strike-rate leaping by seven runs per hundred balls since that
tour.
The Partnership That Resurrected South Africa
When they
came together at 6 for 2 against India, South Africa teetered. Ashwell Prince
was unlucky, Smith outsmarted by Zaheer. Slowly, Kallis and Amla revived the
innings, Kallis with authoritative drives, Amla content to rotate strike.
As Kallis
found fluency, fields scattered, singles multiplied, and even India’s wily
Harbhajan went without a maiden—proof, as Kepler Wessels observed, of
“exceptional concentration and impeccable shot selection.”
Amla’s Inning: Discipline Embodied
Amla’s
half-century consumed 132 balls; his century came with increased decisiveness,
taking only 72 more. While there were edges, fleeting alarms, mostly it was an
innings of immaculate judgement. He scored 55, 45, and 38 in the day’s three
sessions—remarkably even outputs that never left partners stranded. Facing 473
deliveries, he allowed those after him 556, a distribution born of selfless
discipline.
His was an
innings without a dominant area, cover-drives stepped out to spinners, pulls to
dispatch pace. When his double-century arrived, it was via a classical
cover-drive, a flourish that was both signature and summary.
Epilogue: The Quiet Storm
So ended a
masterclass that was less a storm than a tide, persistent, patient, ultimately
unstoppable. Where Kallis missed another personal summit, Amla ascended, the
highest South African scorer on Indian soil. Even on a pitch ageing faster than
its days, he held firm, ensuring South Africa’s grasp was iron-clad.
Amla’s
knock was not merely an aggregation of runs but a literary epic, one written
with strokes that spoke of fortitude, rebuttals to prejudice, and above all, an
enduring love for the art of batting long, hard, and beautifully.
It set the tone for an epic victory.
Thank You
Faisal Caesar
