Justin Langer: IPL players and Lance Klusener are examples of what modern-society can learn about rivalries

A wry smile crossed my face.

“How times have changed.”

Standing in the middle of the Ekana Stadium in Lucknow earlier in the week, I looked around and simply observed.

After a few minutes, I wandered over to South African cricket great Lance Klusener to share my sentiments.

“How times have changed,” I said.

Without a reply, his understanding smile and nod reflected my thoughts.

Lance is working with me at the Lucknow Super Giants. In his playing days, he was one of South Africa’s most dynamic all-rounders and a fan-favourite for his ability to single-handedly change the course of a match.

He consistently performed when the stakes were highest, earning him the nickname “The Finisher”. His ice-cold temperament meant he could deliver powerful hitting at the exact moment his team needed it the most.

His batting technique was uniquely intimidating. He adopted a wide stance with minimal footwork, focusing instead on generating immense power through his shoulders and wrists.

This unconventional approach made it difficult for bowlers to plan against him, as traditional strategies often proved ineffective.

The sight of Klusener walking to the crease in the final overs became one of cricket’s most intimidating moments of that era, a player who seemed to thrive precisely when pressure was highest and could dramatically change a match’s outcome in just a handful of deliveries.

For many cricket-loving Australians, South Africa’s hard nut would be best remembered for his semifinal heroics against Australia at Edgbaston in the 1999 World Cup.

In a match widely regarded as one of the greatest ODI games ever played, Klusener was there at the end in a heartbreaking moment for South Africa.

With his beloved country needing nine runs from the final over with one wicket remaining, ‘The Finisher” took control. He smashed consecutive boundaries off Damien Fleming’s first two balls, levelling the scores.

South Africa now needed just one run from four balls to reach their first World Cup final. What followed was pure cricket drama.

On the fourth ball of the over, the giant left-hander, drove the ball down the ground and immediately set off for a single. His batting partner, Allan Donald, initially didn’t respond and then dropped his bat. When he finally began running, the ball was thrown to wicketkeeper Adam Gilchrist, who calmly removed the bails with Donald well short of his crease.

The match ended in a tie but Australia advanced to the final based on their higher position in the qualifying stages. South Africa’s dreams were shattered again in the most excruciating manner, while Australia went on to win another World Cup.

Twenty-six years later, I am standing with my mate and colleague of the last couple of IPL seasons in a colosseum that packs in 60,000 supporters every game.

Quietly spoken, in many ways, no one epitomises, “How times have changed,” more than Klusener.

Before we worked together, I, like most who don’t know him, saw him as a fearless, snarling, competitive beast who initiated intimidation by simply walking in his company.

Today, as often happens, one’s perception doesn’t always add up to its reality.

The man I am standing alongside, is one of the, kindest, caring introverts I have ever met. A man whose appearance doesn’t match his personality and character and who sees things clearly through his curious eyes.

“Look around us mate”, I offered. “Imagine some of the things we see today, happening as part of yesterday’s reality.”

Again, he laughed.

Every game here at the IPL is like a school reunion. Players from both teams sit around in circles talking and laughing with each other during training sessions that are combined at the same venue and at the same time.

Culturally this is a part of Indian society to sit and converse for hours, but in the high-intensity world of professional cricket, where the stakes are high, and the competition fierce, it takes a while to get your head around.

This week I watched our Indian opening bowler Akash Deep jog a warm-up lap with his teammate from the Indian national team Mohammad Siraj.

The thing was, on this day they weren’t teammates but rather adversaries, playing in different uniforms.

Yet here they were jogging a lap together, laughing and joking, and not thinking a thing about it.

One of our players, David Miller, another South African, has currently played 526 T20 games around the world, representing 26 different teams.

That’s 26 sets of teammates over his career, all who he would have created varying degrees of bonds.

There isn’t a game he plays for us, where he wouldn’t have been a teammate of one of our opposition players. His reunions happen every single game.

Not that long ago, I would have been confused by such behaviour. Probably even grumpy.

But the more I watch it, the more accepting I have become, and the more I am interested by the demeanour of this generation of players.

Remember, I was brought up in a very different time.

Allan Border, Mark Taylor, Steve Waugh, and Ricky Ponting, were my four Australian captains who, along with coach Bob Simpson, shared several traits that made them exceptional leaders.

None would give an inch on the field, playing with a fierce determination that sometimes bordered on abrasiveness.

They embodied the “hard but fair” Australian cricket ethos, making opponents earn every run and wicket.

They had unyielding standards that characterised all their captaincies. They demanded excellence from themselves first, then from their teams. They created cultures where mediocrity wasn’t tolerated, establishing the foundation for Australia’s long-term success today.

All possessed a battlefield awareness, giving them, and us, an edge.

They had an exceptional understanding of match situations, opponent weaknesses and precisely when to attack or defend. Their mottos were to never give the opposition an even break, and that included on, and off, the field of play.

A beer with the opposition after a Test match was often welcomed and always enjoyed, but the thought of being friends before, during, or after the contest was a taboo subject.

Smile on the sporting field?

Don’t you dare, unless you are celebrating a victory with your mates.

The concept of “mental disintegration” was closely associated with Australian cricket, particularly during Waugh’s captaincy, and while there were never words for this uncompromising style with other captains, it formed the foundation of how Australians played their sport.

Critics would argue this approach crossed the line of sportsmanship, while defenders viewed it as a legitimate competitive tactic within a hard-fought professional sport.

Either way, it was just how it was back then.

Today, when we watch AFL players, or any athletes, smiling and talking to their opponent at the end of the game, win or lose, the critics might say they have all gone soft, while the defenders will say, it is good to see the players showing each other respect after a hard-fought contest.

Regardless of what happens outside the schedule of play, there is no indication to me that any sport has gone soft.

Here in the IPL, there is no fiercer domestic tournament in the world. The stakes are high, individually and collectively, and the competition for a seat at the table is intense, ensuring there is no room for complacency or mediocrity.

Anyone falling into these traps will soon be grounded by the opinions of invisible social media critics, or the timeless peril of mainstream media commentators who demand excellence from all high-profile athletes and teams.

Perhaps the camaraderie and interaction among the current crop of athletes is their way of dealing with the pressures of today’s expectations.

Let’s laugh it off, rather than getting to wound up about it all.

Whatever the case, I am learning to embrace and even enjoy the change. This week alone, I have woken up to disheartening headlines on politics, economics, disasters and tragedy. The doom and gloom of it all is tiring at best.

Maybe, just maybe, those who are fighting in various worlds could take a leaf from sport, as it is played today. There might even be a lesson or two.

There is nothing wrong with going hard at each other, fighting for what you believe in and stand for, but when the final bell rings, a healthy and gracious respect for your opponent leads to a more cordial world for everyone to live in.