A record night in Darwin, and the weight of a nickname
Some nights change how a player is seen. Darwin was one of those for Dewald Brevis. The 21-year-old, long tagged “Baby AB,” smashed an unbeaten 125 off 56 balls on August 12, 2025—the highest T20I score ever against Australia, and the highest by any batter in a T20I on Australian soil. It wasn’t just a hot streak; it was a statement. He took South Africa from competitive to untouchable, pushing the total to 218 and setting up a 53-run win to square the series.
Four days later in Cairns, he didn’t cool off. He blasted 53 off 26, all timing and clean swings, before Glenn Maxwell’s smart catch cut him off. Still, the tone was set: when Brevis gets his range early, he turns powerplay overs into a sprint. Bowl too full, and he drives hard through the line. Go short, and he rides the bounce. Fielders become markers more than threats.
That’s how his T20 game works—front-foot intent, access to both sides of the wicket, and no fear of the deep. He’s honed that on the junior circuit, franchise leagues, and a busy calendar as South Africa tried to fast-track his ceiling. The numbers in Darwin added a fresh layer: this wasn’t just flair; it was control at pace. High risk, yes, but he wasn’t slogging. The swing arc was tight, the head still, and the delayed hands bought him extra access over extra cover and midwicket.
The nickname carries its own weight. Being billed as the heir to AB de Villiers can warp expectations. What Darwin showed is the central fact about Brevis: he’s a top-order disruptor who can break scripts early. Teams plan for him now. Australia tried shifting fields, changing angles, and rushing him with pace-on. For one night, none of it mattered.
Why ODIs asked different questions—and what comes next
Then came the 50-over grind. Brevis got his ODI cap on August 19, and by the third match on August 25, we saw the adjustment curve. He made 49—useful, but not match-defining—punctuated by a monstrous six that went viral after a spectator’s prank. The end was telling: a catch by Cameron Green on the rope off Cooper Connolly. It was a T20 shot in an ODI phase where Australia baited the boundary and won.
That’s the contrast. T20s reward repeated high-risk shots because you only face 25–35 balls at best; the 50-over game asks you to move through gears, not redline from ball one. Rotating strike to pull third-man and deep square around, picking the right over to go big, and respecting the lull when bowlers hit a heavy length—those are habits, not instincts. They take time, even for high-skill hitters.
Australia’s ODI plan looked simple from the outside: deny him repeatable boundary options with well-placed sweepers, test his patience with back-of-a-length into the pitch, then hang a tempting line just outside the arc and protect it with two riders on the leg side. The trap worked. In T20s he’d go through it; in ODIs the price of that one mis-hit is bigger because of how it stalls the innings shape around you.
There’s also role clarity. In T20Is, Brevis is the tip of the spear. In ODIs, where does he fit best? Opening gives him the hard new ball and gaps in the ring but demands discipline against the wobble. No. 3 suits his eye but forces him to build—leave, milk, explode—without bleeding dots. Anywhere lower and he arrives to a messy equation with fewer overs to learn conditions. South Africa will need to pick one path and let him fail and learn within it.
Plenty of white-ball stars have wrestled with this split. Suryakumar Yadav, a T20 freak, took time to crack ODIs. Glenn Maxwell’s ODI threat came after he learned to stitch bursts together, not just detonate. The template is clear: keep the power, add a holding pattern. For Brevis, that means two things.
- Build a low-risk scoring map early—dabs to third, soft hands behind point, and mid-on nudges when the ball is new.
- Pick the “go” overs—usually the fifth bowler or a second spell—and commit to a 12–16 run burst without forcing every over into a highlight.
Technique-wise, he doesn’t need an overhaul. The base is strong: compact setup, fast hands, and balance at contact. The tweak is tempo. In the ODI in question, Australia’s outfield plan turned his strength—clean hitting—into a funnel. If he adds a safer release—say, more singles off the hip and late cuts to beat point—he buys himself time to cash in when the ball softens.
There’s also the mental bit. T20 cricket gives instant feedback: you miss, you go again. ODIs can feel like waiting in traffic—fields squeeze you, bowlers drag you wide of off, and every dot feels bigger. The best ODI hitters play a quiet middle. They don’t go to war with the field; they bend it slowly until gaps widen.
South Africa’s dressing room will see the upside. A 125* in Australia doesn’t happen by accident. The 49 in the ODI is not failure either—just proof that teams are already setting traps tailored to him. The adjustment now is selection patience and role clarity. Back him at one spot for a run of games. Pair him with a partner who loves strike rotation. Give him a license to absorb 10 low-key balls if it sets up 60 furious ones.
For Australia, there’s homework too. Darwin showed that if the ball slides on, he’s lethal. Taking pace off, using into-the-pitch lengths, and staying wide with protection remains the blueprint. The Connolly-Green combination at the death—tempt, protect, cash the mistake—won this micro-battle. Expect more of that.
So yes, this fortnight was a split screen: fireworks in Darwin and Cairns, a bump in the 50-over road days later. That’s not a contradiction; it’s the normal path for a young hitter crossing formats in real time. The ceiling is obvious. The middle overs are the classroom. If he stitches those parts together, that “Baby AB” tag won’t feel like a burden. It’ll feel like a preview.
