The NSL First Class tournament was the magic potion conjured up by cricket’s high priests to cure the long-standing ailment of a lacklustre domestic circuit. For years, Sri Lanka’s club cricket resembled a tale of two extremes — spinning minefields where batters danced to the tune of ragging turn or lifeless roads where seamers were left searching for answers. But the NSL, run with clockwork precision under the watchful eye of Sri Lanka Cricket, has struck a happy medium.
It’s provided a level playing field where players of all disciplines can strut their stuff — and importantly, it’s become a breeding ground where performances actually catch the selectors’ eye.
This season has been no different — several players have put their hands up, but none more emphatically than top-order batter Pathum Nissanka, who may well have batted himself out of a career-threatening slump and back into the Test XI.
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The year 2024 had started with fireworks for Pathum. He shattered Sanath Jayasuriya’s long-standing record for the highest individual ODI score by a Sri Lankan — not just beating the 189, but vaulting past it to register the country’s first-ever double century in the format. And this wasn’t a slapdash innings filled with wild heaves and agricultural swings — this was a masterclass in batsmanship, all poise, timing, and elegance. A classical player bringing up a milestone usually reserved for power-hitters. The crowd went berserk, the commentators ran out of superlatives, and for a moment, Pathum was the toast of the cricketing world.
But even that innings, as glorious as it was, wasn’t his pièce de résistance of 2024. That came later in the English summer — of all places, at The Oval — where the conditions were far from a batter’s paradise. The ball was talking, swinging like a pendulum, and most top-order batters were reduced to mere spectators at the crease. But Pathum, with his back to the wall, dug in deep. He crafted a sublime century under pressure, against a quality attack, on a pitch that had demons lurking beneath the surface. It was the kind of innings that turned heads and turned tides — leading Sri Lanka to their first Test win in England in a decade.
That’s the enigma of Pathum Nissanka — he has a penchant for scoring daddy hundreds and he does it with such flourish that captains are forced to spread their fields and plug the gaps. His ability to rotate strike and punish anything loose not only lifts the scoreboard but takes the pressure off his partner, building match-defining partnerships brick by brick.
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Yet, as is often the case in cricket, after the highs came the lows. Following his London heroics, Pathum hit a dry patch. He failed to fire in home series against Australia and New Zealand, and let a golden opportunity slip through his fingers in South Africa — a place where centuries are worth their weight in gold, given the pace and bounce on offer.
In Port Elizabeth, he looked a million dollars against the quicks and was cruising at 89. But then, in a moment of madness, he danced down the track to left-arm spinner Keshav Maharaj, missed the plot entirely, and was bowled through the gate. Word in the dressing room was that the Head Coach gave him the cold shoulder for a fortnight. Not only did Pathum miss out on a personal milestone, but his untimely dismissal let a potential win slip away from Sri Lanka’s grasp.
Back on home soil, his bat stayed stubbornly silent. He couldn’t get the scoreboard ticking for NCC, and even in the NSL, the big scores remained elusive. Meanwhile, the conveyor belt of domestic talent kept churning — several young openers were knocking on the selectors’ door with some serious knocks, all while Pathum seemed to be shadow batting his way into obscurity.
The writing was on the wall. Whispers became murmurs, murmurs became questions. Was Pathum’s time up?
But champions aren’t just made of runs and averages. They’re made of resolve. And just when it seemed like he was down for the count, Pathum roared back to life. A swashbuckling double hundred against Dambulla at the RPS — a knock stitched together with equal parts silk and steel — not only silenced the doubters but reignited his Test hopes ahead of the Bangladesh series.
More than just personal redemption, that innings breathed life into Kandy’s hopes of reaching the final. That’s what players like Pathum bring to the table — the ability to turn the tide, to shift the momentum, and to remind everyone that while form might come and go like the tides, class is etched in stone.
