Sanju Samson has spent his career being measured against people who were not him. Rishabh Pant’s chaos. Ishan Kishan’s left-handed swagger. Even Shubman Gill’s anchor batting, which made no sense for T20 cricket but got picked anyway. Samson just stood there, gloves on, waiting for a door that kept opening for others.
This is not a story about potential finally realised. It is about a player who was always ready but rarely trusted, who kept his mouth shut and his bat loud, who understood that in Indian cricket, you don’t get chances. You get moments. And if you miss them, someone else is already warming up.
The Fringe
There is a particular cruelty to being good at the wrong time. Samson has been good at many wrong times. He opens for India, he averages 33.5, he strikes at 180.7. Only Abhishek Sharma hits faster among all openers in the world with 500 runs.
These are not opinions. These are numbers that sit there, ignored, like a guest who arrived early to the party.
But Samson does not accumulate quietly. He explodes or he vanishes. Four ducks and three hundreds. The selectors see this and they flinch. They want the middle. They want the safety of 30 off 25, the illusion of control. Samson gives them 97 off 50 or nothing. And nothing makes selectors nervous.
So they moved him down. Asia Cup, batting order experiments, the whole confused mess. Shubman Gill came in to open despite not playing T20 cricket like an opener should. Samson went to number five, six, wherever there was space. He tried. He failed. He looked like a man asked to write with his wrong hand.
When Gill disappeared from the squad; just gone, no explanation, Indian selection logic at its finest, Samson came back to the top. But something was missing. Not form. Form is just confidence with better PR.
The Virtual Knockout
West Indies. 197 to chase. Virtual quarter-final. Lose and get knocked out at home.
The required rate was already breathing down India’s neck. He did not settle. He does not settle. The first six went over midwicket. Then another. Then he started hitting where fielders were not, which is the hardest thing to do in cricket because it requires thinking two balls ahead while the current one is still in the air.
Ninety-seven not out. Fifty balls. West Indies had no plan because there was no plan to have. He hit a six and a four in last over to won the game. When he finished, West Indies were finished. That is what match-winning means. Not contributing. Finishing.
The Semifinal
England again. At Wankhede. Thirteen consecutive floodlit knockout matches, no team had batted first and won. The inevitable was not just expected. It was scheduled.
Samson had history with Jofra Archer. Three dismissals, 23 runs, 25 balls. Bad history. Archer started with a short one, Samson put it away. Another, same result. Then Archer went full, Samson miscued, and Harry Brook dropped it.
Here is the thing about drops. Most batsmen get nervous. They play safe for two balls, reset, survive. Samson hit the next one for six. Then another. Brook’s face said guilt. Samson’s bat said thank you.
Eighty-nine runs. Forty-two balls. The powerplay had already done the damage; 67 runs, the contest half-over before England knew it started. By the time Samson left, India were past 170. The inevitable had been cancelled.
The Comparison
Yuvraj Singh, 2007. Six sixes, 58 runs against England. Seventy off 30 in the semifinal. The template for T20 match-winning in Indian colours.
Samson’s innings were not theatre. No six sixes, no dancing down the track. But the impact was identical. Two must-win games. Two demolitions. One player deciding that his team would not lose.
Yuvraj had the crowd, the moment, the legend being born. Samson had silence. Years of it. The 2024 World Cup bench. The Asia Cup demotion. The constant suggestion that someone else might be better, even when the numbers said otherwise.
The Truth
Indian cricket finally bent toward Samson, but only because he refused to bend himself. They wanted him to be Pant, or Kishan, or Gill. He stayed Samson. High risk, high reward, no apologies.
There is a lesson here about selection, about the difference between backing and tolerance. For years they tolerated Samson. Gave him games when others were injured, dropped him when they returned. Never the full rope, never the trust that allows a player to fail twice and come back.
He did not need the rope. He just needed two balls. Two nights. Two innings that said: I am here. I have always been here. You were looking somewhere else.
The End
India are in the final. Samson is the reason. Not the only reason, but the biggest one. The man who spent years on the edge walked into the middle and took the centre
After the semifinal, he did not celebrate loudly. He never does. Just walked off, gloves in hand, job done. That is the image to keep. Not the sixes. The walking off. The understanding that there is always another game, another doubt to silence, another selector to convince.
He is 31 now. This might be his only World Cup as a starter. Or the first of something. With Samson, you never know. That is the point. That has always been the point.