Where it stands right now, then David Warner can only be explained in the form of potential warnings to bowlers.
Something on the lines of the following might suffice:
Cautionary warning: Bowlers, watch-out, batsman in hot-form.
England warning: Tread cautiously, David Warner ahead.
For close to a year, he was bullied. Chided in his- own country’s media. He was called names. They even said he’s hiding hideously behind his innocent kids when facing cameras.
The meltdown widely written about wasn’t considered admission of guilt. It was seen as hiding one’s character behind an act of betrayal.
The rounds of unsparing booing continued even during the World Cup. The days of sandpaper-contact of the cricket ball long gone, he took all the blows.
He took them bravely.
But, in typical boisterous Australian fashion, he also remembered to give a lot back. 647 of them blasted as runs.
Not unfairly. Not illegally.
At all this time wearing the proud Australian jersey. But he answered back from musings of the bat. In fact, call them smothering of the bat- shall we.
When Justin Timberlake sang, “What goes around comes around,” he was merely doing what a big pop star did back in those days, putting music to an already known set of lyrics.
But when David Warner launched a counter-attacking display of top-quality batsmanship in the just-concluded World Cup, it seemed, he was determined to make do for some bad Karma.
What went around did come back around again to haunt the bowlers. He was fair in his disdain for any kind of bowling, throwing his bat at anyone and everyone- from Chahal to Holder, Archer to Rashid, Shakib to Rashid.
It was as if he was making good for a spot he was forced to relinquish.
Driven like a mad man, crazy enough to plant all the saplings that an army of farmers were entrusted to sow.
And in the end, as he stood in front of what his earnest efforts manifested, what emerged was a tall, lanky tree.
The next best individual Australian batting effort was his captains’, at 507 runs.
David Warner’s storm was far greater in threat and imposition of will than even Virat Kohli’s or Chris Gayle’s.
His arsenal seldom ran dry of towering hits. Drawing an interesting parallel with arms-dealers, Australia’s comeback hero seemed a dealer in fours and sixes.
Lethal.
Punishing to the core.
And in the end, you didn’t even know whether despite striking lots of boundaries, scoring a half century of them, going well past fifty, in fact, 66 to be precise David Warner was content.
If there was a soldier amid us, then in David Warner, it became a demolition man. You really run out of adjectives.
The barrage of boundaries and sturdy accumulation of runs was as if a high-tempo disco beat had been put on a full-volume, repeat-mode. There was hardly any time or inclination to dismantle the technique and find flaws.
Less than a week remains before two exciting cricketing forces exchange pleasantries and lock horns in what’s considered cricket’s greatest rivalry.
And one man is on song. He’ll look to compose melodies in the five-dayers, you’d hope.
David Warner will make a beer-guzzling day full of rich lager and worth many a pint. And yet, in all of this serene excitement of seeing one of modern cricket’s most savage attackers, you cannot possibly eschew the idea from delving on what can only be a cracker of a contest.
Play the rivalry akin to a next chart-topper in the playlist and one name features constantly:
David Warner vs Jimmy Anderson, David Warner vs Stuart Broad, David Warner vs Mark Wood, and hey- David Warner vs Joffra Archer.
