As if England’s cricketers needed any reminder of who is the most brilliant batsman in the world today, they were given it a few days ago as they boarded their flight for Pietermaritzburg. Airport shuttle buses normally advertise duty-free shops, or perhaps a brand of car, but whizzing around O? R Tambo airport in Johannesburg were some that proclaimed on their sides: “149 from only 44 balls.” That was it. No name supplied. It was unnecessary because, in a country still obsessed with rugby, Abraham Benjamin de Villiers is as famous as any Springbok. Universally, however – and not least in India, where he has become another god because of his feats in the IPL – he is known as AB. To be known by your initials is a rare accolade in cricket, given to few since WG Grace.
Those airport buses are referring to the fastest century yet made in one-day internationals, earlier this year, against West Indies in Johannesburg. De Villiers reached his century off only 31 balls, before accelerating. He raised the bar by such a distance that he beat the record for the fastest ODI hundred by five balls.
In the World Cup, a couple of months later, De Villiers demonstrated that he did not depend on the thin air of the Wanderers ground – Johannesburg has an altitude of 5,000 feet – to hit sixes. Against the same hapless opposition, at sea level in Sydney, De Villiers hit the fastest 150 in ODI history (64b).
This virtuosity of De Villiers, 31, was developed from a very early age – and in circumstances so remarkably similar to those in which Buttler developed his manual dexterity that it can be no coincidence. Indeed, any aspiring parents who want their child to be an ace at white-ball batting had better follow their template.
De Villiers was by far the youngest of three brothers born to AB de Villiers snr, a medical doctor who played rugby, and his wife Millie, who played tennis very competitively and now works in property around Pretoria. Left to his own devices in the small country town of Warmbad, in northern South Africa, the infant hit tennis balls against a wall by himself – exactly as Buttler was to do when his mother went to Wedmore tennis club in Somerset and left him to amuse himself aged three.
“I always felt, when I was growing up, like I was going to perform in front of a crowd,” De Villiers recalled. “I didn’t know what I was going to be, but I always had those voices in my head. Knocking balls on the wall with my tennis racket, I could always imagine a crowd around me and cheering me on,” he added, in an interview with Cricinfo, on the eve of his 100th Test in India last month.
Buttler went on to play cricket against his elder brother in the garden at home. De Villiers had one brother six years older and another nine – and when he joined in, they did not spare him one jot.
“They would try to intimidate me,” De Villiers remembered. “The bat was actually too heavy for me, and I would rest it on the dustbin while they were walking back to their mark. They battled to get me out and they would get so frustrated that they’d bowl a couple of beamers at me to see what I would do. My brothers were merciless. They were monsters. There were always a lot of tears — usually mine,” he laughed. By the time De Villiers attended Afrikaanse Hoer Seunskool in Pretoria, cricket had become almost as popular as rugby.
De Villiers was not only outstanding at cricket. He learnt to play golf off a handicap of two. As a fly-half he was offered a contract by the Blue Bulls. In the national squad for tennis, he gave the sport up at 13 when he did not want to go and train in Florida – and for the same reason that Buttler gave up tennis. Millie de Villiers spoke for both of them when she said that her son did not like individual sports because he is “very much a team guy”.
If he is twice as good again in this forthcoming series, England’s chances are minimal. It is as simple as ABC – or just AB.