It is a truth universally acknowledged in cricketing circles that it was Sri Lanka who rewrote the rulebook on one-day batting. Having unearthed a diamond from the deep south in Sanath Jayasuriya — a man who could send the ball sailing over the rope as casually as most nudge singles — Sri Lanka backed him to the hilt. The returns were modest at first, but when he hit a purple patch during the 1996 World Cup, the gamble paid off in gold. The rest, as they say, is history.

Legend has it that one evening, after a Sri Lanka Under-19 training session, young Sanjeewa Ranatunga came home to find his elder brother Arjuna — then the national captain — asking how practice was going. Sanjeewa’s reply was simple: “I’m doing okay, but you must come and see this fellow from Matara — he hits the ball with brutal force.”

The next day, Arjuna turned up at the nets. What followed was the Imran Khan meets Wasim Akram moment of Sri Lankan cricket — the discovery of a generational match-winner. From there on, Jayasuriya was taken under the national wing and the cricketing landscape was never the same again.

Jayasuriya’s power was forged not in gymnasiums but in the everyday grind of the south — the famed ‘bala maalu’ strength of his forearms a gift of nature. Matara hasn’t produced another like him since, in cricket or basketball. Perhaps Sanath was simply a freak of nature. As Arjuna once put it, players like Murali, Aravinda and Sanath come along “once in 50 years.”

Fast forward to today, and the contrast is sobering. Sri Lanka’s T20 side is scratching around for power hitters, to the point of flying in overseas expertise. This week, English power-hitting guru Julian Wood conducted a short stint with both men’s and women’s squads. A smart move, yes, but a week is barely a net session in the grand scheme of change. Skills like these take time to bed in and with language barriers slowing absorption, the ideal would be another camp or two in the build-up to the World Cup.

The template exists. Look at Andre Russell. When he debuted for West Indies in 2010, he opened the bowling and batted at No. 9. Realising the golden ticket that clean hitting could become in the T20 era, he sought out a private coach in the UK. The result? A strike rate north of 160, two T20 World Cup titles and a career in demand from every franchise under the sun. If only a few Sri Lankans could take a page from that playbook.

Administrators can open doors, but players must walk through them. Kumar Sangakkara, not blessed with the raw talent became a giant of the game through sheer work ethic — a level still unmatched in the current set-up.

Power hitting is just one crack in the armour. This side has been bowled out for new lows in T20s, unable to see out their 20 overs. Too often, dot-ball pressure drives batters to take the aerial route in desperation — more a Hail Mary than a calculated gamble — and the inevitable mishit follows.

There is at least a flicker of intent to address the malaise. The ongoing triangular series among Asia Cup probables should offer clearer answers.

by Rex Clementine