A B de Villiers - AB de Villiers - The Autobiography

AB

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY

MACMILLAN

To my son

O nly a handful of international cricketers have seen their personal popularity extend beyond the boundaries of their homeland. AB de Villiers can be included in this very select group of globally acclaimed superstars.

It was during the 2015 Indian Premier League when, together with other members of the coaching staff of the Mumbai Indians, we watched AB destroy our bowling attack and win the game for Royal Challengers Bangalore. He was batting for the visiting side, but the Mumbai crowd our supporters chanted his name before every single delivery that he faced.

ABD! ABD! ABD! ABD! ABD!

The chant rang around the entire stadium. I had heard an Indian crowd chant before, but not like this. It was freaky.

ABs innings was extraordinary, full of amazing footwork, brilliant strokes and brilliant improvisation. I was sitting beside my fellow Mumbai coach Ricky Ponting, watching in awe, and when it was all over the former Australian captain turned to me and pointed out that each of ABs shots had been played into a gap.

Thats not luck, he said. That is genius.

I arrived back at our hotel, somewhat grumpy after our heavy defeat. My wife, Melanie, who had watched on TV, observed: Oh well, it must be a bit of a consolation that the game was won by your boy.

She was right. AB was my boy, not because I played any significant part in developing his talent but because, ever since he had made his debut for the Proteas in 2004, his approach to the game his positive batting and his energetic presence in the field resembled the way I played during my international career, which ended the year before, in 2003.

At times, it felt as if AB had seized the torch from me and was taking it to an altogether higher and unimagined level.

His complete destruction of the West Indian attack in Sydney during the 2015 World Cup was so ruthless, so complete and so breathtaking that it left me feeling genuinely sorry for the bowlers.

It was incredible to watch. He was clearly loving the game, mastering the game and yet humbly respecting it at the same time.

ABs career achievements so far have honoured cricket wherever the game is played and Ricky Ponting was 100% correct hes a genius. I am honoured that AB asked me to write this Foreword to his autobiography and I always feel privileged to be associated with him in any way.

Jonty Rhodes

March 2016

JONTY RHODES played 52 Tests and 245 one-day internationals for South Africa between 1992 and 2003, scoring more than 8 000 runs. Through his infectious energy and brilliant fielding, he became the most recognisable face in the Proteas team that emerged from isolation. He now works in the media and as a coach.

S omeone else should bat.

It is Sunday, 18 January 2015. South Africa are playing a one-day international at the Wanderers Stadium in Johannesburg and a capacity crowd is enjoying the warm sunshine. Sent in to bat, openers Hashim Amla and Rilee Rossouw are playing brilliantly, building the ideal platform for a winning total.

In the changing room, as our score passes 200 without loss, I approach Russell Domingo, our coach.

Let Dave Miller go in next, coach, I say. This is perfect for him.

No, Abbas, youre next, he replies, firmly.

That doesnt make sense. Sulieman Benn still has two overs to bowl and, if somebody gets out, Miller should go in and have a full go at the left-arm spinner who typically turns the ball in to the left-hander. The situation is made for him. Were 1-0 up in the five-match series, and were expected to win, but we need to take every opportunity.

Amla and Rossouw are still going well, dominating, taking the score past 220. Its worth another try.

Coach, Im serious. Dave should go next.

No, youre the best man for this situation.

The scoreboard keeps moving as Hash strokes another boundary through extra cover.

Im sitting on the physiotherapy bed in our dressing room. Dale Steyn, Faf du Plessis and Farhaan Behardien are around, and were enjoying the buzz of another pink Sunday at the Wanderers, the annual ODI when the Proteas and most of the spectators dress in pink to raise funds for and awareness of the fight against breast cancer. Im nervous. This is my 177th one-day international but I feel as anxious as I did during my first.

It will never change, I say out loud, to nobody in particular.

What? Faf asks.

The nerves I always get so nervous before I bat.

As I speak, Rilee is caught in the deep, out for 128. Our score is 247 for one. Im up next. I grab my bat and make my way down the stairs. As I do, I trip and stumble. Faf and Dale burst out laughing.

Emerging from the long path leading down to the field, limbering up, loosening up, whirling my arms, for a moment, I become aware of the amazing stage a beautiful summers day on the Highveld, the Bullring packed in pink, the Proteas going well, the crowd happy and excited. For an instant, I consider again how lucky I am to be playing this game for a living, to be representing my country and now to be captain of the national ODI team. Thats enough emotion! I consciously snap back into the moment, block out the sentiment, the noise, the atmosphere and the bubbling anticipation. Its time to focus on the task, to find a way of getting back into the zone and settling into a rhythm, always respecting the opposition and the game, earning the right to express myself and play my game.

Hash has made 114 from 116 balls and he stands, waiting for me in the middle, so calm and controlled. Weve been playing cricket with and against each other since we were teenagers, for school, province and country, and hes always been such a high-quality person and such a high-quality player.

Ill have a look for one or two overs, I tell him, and well go from there.

The plan is simple: Hash bats through the innings and I settle as quickly as possible and try to inject momentum, going for everything, and hopefully getting our total to around 350, out of reach.

There are 69 deliveries left to be bowled.

Jerome Taylor runs in and bowls a slower ball straight and full there to be hit. My drive is not perfectly timed, but it flies past mid-on and away to the boundary. That feels good. Sometimes in this complex game, for no apparent reason, everything just feels right. That imperfect shot feels right, no question.

The second ball is sliced, driven square for two, and the third is stunned down to third man for one, so I retain the strike for the 40th over, to be bowled by Andre Russell. I push a single to cover off the first ball and Hash takes a single off the second. Maybe this is the moment to accelerate.

FOUR, clubbed over mid-off, one bounce to the boundary SIX, moving outside off, pulled over square leg and into the crowd FOUR, a straight ball driven over extra cover, two bounces to the boundary. SIX, improvising, flicking over square leg, crouching on my right knee, losing balance but managing to get the ball away.

The scoreboard shows Ive reached 28 from eight balls. Everything feels right. I dont normally play like this so early in an innings, but I feel Im in a good place today. Im not premeditating the shot. Before the ball is bowled, I look around, check the fielders, see the space and decide where Im going to try to hit the ball. That usually leaves me with three or four shot options, and I pick one when I see the length.

So, for example, if Ive decided to hit the ball on the leg side, Ill skip outside off, so a full delivery can be driven and a short ball can be pulled over mid-wicket; for anything pitched in between, Ill drop down on one knee and use my go-to lap shot, a flick over square leg, helping it on its way. Thats the plan. It doesnt always work.