New Delhi: The Ekamra Sports Literature Festival witnessed one of its most engrossing sessions when celebrated cricket writer, filmmaker and analyst Jarrod Kimber took the stage for a deep-dive discussion on his new book The Art of Batting. In a free-flowing, humorous and often philosophical conversation moderated by senior sports journalist Sanjeeb Mukherjea, Kimber unpacked the layers behind cricket’s most cherished skill, revealing the processes, analytics, personalities, contradictions and stories that shaped his ambitious attempt to evaluate the greatest batters across eras. The session grew steadily in depth, opening with light banter but soon transforming into a remarkable exploration of the human mind under duress, the evolution of cricket across economic and cultural landscapes, and the shifting definitions of batting excellence.
The Changing World of Cricket and Why Batting Needed a Fresh Lens
Kimber began by acknowledging that cricket is entering a new phase. A self-described “sports nerd,” he has long documented how the game has transformed—first with his landmark documentary Death of a Gentleman, which highlighted the political and administrative shifts that reshaped global cricket, and now through a book attempting to decode the heart of the game: runs. He explained that cricket once operated almost like a socialist system, with bilateral structures and national boards placing tradition over commerce. Today, it is a fully capitalistic ecosystem driven by T20 leagues, private investments, data science and entertainment dynamics. What this upheaval has done, according to Kimber, is force a re-examination of batting itself.
Despite the glow of modernity, he said, the core of the craft remains a lonely confrontation between batter and ball. That is precisely why The Art of Batting attempts something different: to document greatness through a blend of statistical rigour, psychological insight, context and historical perspective. Kimber was inspired not by another cricket book, but by a basketball analytics podcast that examined NBA legends using advanced metrics. He felt cricket needed a similarly honest attempt to look beyond myths and nostalgia.
The Ranking That Almost Broke the Author
Kimber admitted the book was far harder to write than anticipated. The initial list had 84 names, a number he found both unwieldy and emotionally exhausting because “every exclusion feels like a crime”. The final list features 50 players, but unlike typical rankings, Kimber assigns each batter a “range” rather than a fixed position. If a player is listed 23rd with a range of 18–32, readers know where Kimber believes they realistically sit. This, he argued, is a more honest system because greatness is not absolute and even the best analysts carry biases stemming from eras, personal memories or emotional attachments.
He joked that the moment the manuscript was submitted, he already wanted to rearrange the list because performances fluctuate. Joe Root continued scoring heavily, Babar Azam stalled, Steve Smith dipped, and Kane Williamson kept reinventing himself. Every innings has the power to reshape a debate, and Kimber believes batting is far more fluid than rigid rankings allow.
Steven Smith Ahead of Ricky Ponting and the Provocation Behind It
Mukherjea nudged Kimber towards the most controversial selection: ranking Steven Smith above Ricky Ponting. Kimber did not hesitate. He said that while Ponting had a phenomenal peak from 2001 to 2008, Smith’s consistency across venues, formats and phases of his career made him the more complete batter. He reinforced that Ponting struggled early and declined sharply later, while Smith’s productivity remained remarkably stable over a longer stretch. The criticism this choice attracted reflects, Kimber said, how deeply fans romanticise eras, often ignoring context.
The Heartbreak of Leaving Out Adam Gilchrist and Graeme Gooch
Two omissions still bother Kimber. One is Adam Gilchrist, whom Kimber openly calls an inspiration both professionally and personally. Gilchrist’s approach to attacking bowling, absorbing failure and batting with emotional clarity influenced Kimber during a difficult phase in his own life. Yet Kimber had to exclude him because batting at No. 7, when the ball is older and conditions easier, made comparisons difficult.
Graeme Gooch, England’s towering run machine and the all-time highest scorer across all forms of recognised cricket, also narrowly missed out. Kimber praised Gooch’s longevity and discipline but admitted that inconsistencies at key moments pushed him outside the final 50.
How Kimber Attempted to Quantify Greatness
The moderator asked Kimber to explain what exactly goes into evaluating a batter’s legacy. Kimber described a layered approach: adjusting runs and averages for era-specific scoring trends; analysing performance against the best bowling attacks; understanding match situations in which a batter typically walked in; factoring whether a player carried a weak batting lineup, as Brian Lara often did; separating home and away performances; assessing how openers coped with the new ball; and mapping how quickly a player could shift momentum in a match.
According to Kimber’s framework, an opener’s job is inherently more challenging, and scoring in tough batting eras like the 1950s carries far more weight than scoring in the high-scoring 2000s. He likened the process to preparing legal briefs: building arguments for and against players, dissecting fragilities, acknowledging myths, and challenging pre-set narratives.
“Greatness is subjective,” he reminded the audience, “but you must still try to be fair.”
When Legends Don’t Know Their Own Genius
Perhaps the most enlightening part of the session revolved around Kimber’s interviews with great batters. He said that talking to elite players often reveals a surprising truth: many cannot fully articulate how they do what they do. AB de Villiers told him that when he is in the zone, even Mitchell Johnson—one of the fastest bowlers of his generation—feels like he is bowling underarm. The statement, Kimber said, illustrates a neurological state far beyond technical skill.
But sometimes the richest insights do not come from the stars themselves, but from those who played alongside them. Bob “Knocker” White, a first-class cricketer turned umpire who spent over 50 years in the game, once asked Sir Garfield Sobers to explain a particular shot. Sobers described the mechanics casually. White tried it in the nets and failed entirely. Sobers simply told him, “Well, you’re not me, are you?” That single line, Kimber said, sums up the mystery of genius: much of it is instinctive and unreproducible.
The Supporting Cast: Dravid, Sangakkara, Chanderpaul and Others
Kimber credited Chris Rogers, the Australian opener who understood Steven Smith better than most, for decoding parts of Smith’s method. Jimmy Adams offered deep insights into Brian Lara and Shivnarine Chanderpaul, bringing Caribbean nuances into the conversation. Kumar Sangakkara, with his philosophical clarity, helped Kimber understand how Aravinda de Silva embodied a contradiction: a man who loved pastries, cars and avoiding fielding as much as he loved batting brilliance. Sangakkara’s stories painted Aravinda as a genius who could be activated by a challenge, especially from Australians, turning into a matchwinner almost at will.
Rahul Dravid, Kimber revealed, brought humility and humour. Dravid joked that Kimber had ranked him too high. He also spoke about how different eras shape preparation. Unlike modern players who benefit from specialist throwdown coaches, Dravid often faced friendly part-time bowling from teammates because practice infrastructure was limited. At times, he faced slow, tired deliveries from Sachin Tendulkar after Tendulkar had already batted for hours. These structural constraints, Kimber noted, make Dravid’s achievements even more remarkable.
The Psychological Divide Between Sachin Tendulkar and Brian Lara
One audience question revolved around whether psychological wiring influences greatness, especially for players like Sachin Tendulkar and Brian Lara. Kimber agreed wholeheartedly. Tendulkar, he said, found motivation every single day. His diligence was relentless, shaped by the weight of carrying India’s batting for nearly two decades. Lara, on the other hand, was driven by stimulus—an unfair remark, a difficult match situation, an aggressive opponent, or an impossible chase. His genius was episodic but volcanic.
Kimber emphasised that both approaches are valid forms of greatness. Tendulkar stayed great. Lara became great whenever the moment demanded it. The contrast, he said, is what makes cricket richer.
Bradman’s Astronomical Gap and Why Sachin Still Ranks No. 2
The question Kimber knew would arise finally came up: why rank Sachin Tendulkar at No. 2? Kimber clarified that Tendulkar’s range in the book is 1–2, meaning he could easily have been first if not for the statistical rupture created by Don Bradman. Bradman averaged nearly 40 runs more than any other batter of his era, including George Headley and Herbert Sutcliffe. He dominated in England, carried the weight of a nation during the Great Depression, and still produced the most extraordinary numbers ever seen. Newspapers famously ran the headline “He’s Out!” on their front pages when he failed.
Kimber said that Bradman’s consistency across changing conditions puts him beyond comparison. There is no insult in Tendulkar being second when the gap between Bradman and everyone else is mathematically unbridgeable.
A Love Letter to Cricket and a Celebration of Batting’s Soul
As the session drew to a close, Kimber reflected on how The Art of Batting is as much a study of the sport as it is his personal tribute. He wanted to write something that captured the beauty, chaos, fear, strategy, instinct and vulnerability embedded in batting. Runs are measurable, but the emotional and mental turmoil behind them is not. This book, and the session that unpacked it, attempted to reconcile those worlds.
The Ekamra Sports Literature Festival audience left with the sense that batting is not merely a statistical pursuit but a narrative of human struggle and creativity. Kimber’s ability to blend humour, data, storytelling and self-awareness turned what might have been a technical discussion into a celebration of cricket’s poetry.
