Sanju Samson has been in Indian cricket long enough to know that the noise never really dies. It just changes tone.
Five T20I failures on the bounce, a teenager snapping at his heels for a top-order spot, every dismissal slowed down and sliced apart on social media – by the time he walked out in New Delhi against Afghanistan, the debate had stopped being background chatter. It was the soundtrack.
He turned it down the only way that really counts.
A 57 off 22 balls, 52 of those runs in boundaries, dragged India to a seven‑wicket win in the second T20I and yanked Samson’s name out of the dock, at least for one night. The innings wasn’t a scrape or a survival act. It was clean, decisive hitting from a player who looked like he had finally cleared his head and given himself permission to play.
The pressure had been building for weeks. Samson had flown back from England under a cloud after a lean run through the Ireland and England assignments. While he sat out the Zimbabwe tour completely, Vaibhav Sooryavanshi cashed in, stoking a selection battle that followed Samson back into the India dressing room.
By Tuesday, the question had hardened: was Samson running out of road?
He answered with the bat, then did something rarer. He answered with the microphone.
‘I try to switch the Wi‑Fi off’
Cricketers are usually trained to pretend the outside world doesn’t exist. Samson went the other way.
“I try to switch the Wi-Fi off,” he said, speaking after his match-winning knock. “But sometimes the Wi-Fi gets switched on and comments become visible. Some senior player says something. So I think it’s very normal.”
It was a line that drew laughs, but the metaphor cut close to the bone. In the modern game, the “Wi‑Fi” never really goes off. Opinions seep through dressing rooms, flights, hotel lobbies, family WhatsApp groups. For Indian players, the bandwidth of criticism is endless.
“Definitely, outside noise does affect cricketers in India,” Samson admitted. “But you need to be very clear about what your mindset is, how you need to prepare and what mindset you need to play with.”
No deflection. No stock phrases about “not paying attention” or “controlling the controllables.” Just a blunt admission that the noise gets in – and a clear outline of how he tries to live with it.
‘We are not robots’
The most striking part of Samson’s press conference wasn’t the metaphor. It was the vulnerability.
“I think I have been mature enough and experienced enough to know how to handle it. Earlier, it used to hurt a little. I'm not a machine. We are not robots that we can say, ‘No, it doesn't affect me.’ Definitely, it affects you,” he said.
That is not the usual script for an India player under scrutiny. The standard response is to present a bulletproof exterior, to insist that criticism bounces off. Samson rejected that idea outright.
He even spelt out the paralysis that comes with listening to every voice before taking guard.
If he allowed those comments to crowd his mind, he said, he would be second‑guessing every stroke. “If I paid attention to those things, I couldn't bat like this. Before hitting a shot, I would think ten times, ‘Yaar, out ho gaya toh phir Wi-Fi problem ho jayega.’ So instead, I tell myself, ‘Koi baat nahi.’”
That “koi baat nahi” is not bravado. It’s a coping mechanism. A small, private reset that lets him swing freely in public.
A selection battle that won’t go away
One innings does not erase five failures. It does not end a selection debate that has already pulled in Sooryavanshi’s rise, Samson’s omissions, and the larger question of how India balance their T20I batting.
What it does is shift the temperature.
Samson’s 57 has forced the conversation to move from “Does he deserve to be here?” to “What does he do with this lifeline?” In a crowded queue for top‑order spots, that’s a significant change.
He knows the scrutiny will return with the next low score. He knows another youngster will emerge from another tour, numbers in hand, questions on their lips. That is the reality of modern India selection: the conveyor belt doesn’t stop.
But New Delhi reminded everyone of why Samson has stayed in the frame for so long. When he connects, he changes games quickly. When his mind is uncluttered, he looks like a player built for the tempo of modern T20I cricket.
A new kind of honesty
Samson’s innings will sit in the scorebooks. His words may travel further.
Athletes in India are often boxed into an image: stoic, untouched by criticism, endlessly “mentally strong.” Samson ripped through that stereotype in a few sentences. He didn’t claim immunity. He described impact, then described response.
That is not fragility. That is emotional intelligence, sharpened by experience and failure.
The “Wi‑Fi problem” line will stick because it captures something every modern sportsperson understands: you can’t really disconnect, so you learn to manage the signal. You learn when to mute, when to scroll past, when to log off – and when to let the bat speak for you.
For younger players watching, that might be the more valuable lesson than the 57 off 22. Not the myth of invulnerability, but the skill of acknowledging the noise, putting it in its place, and still walking out to play your shots.
Samson has bought himself time and space with this innings. What he does with that breathing room, under a Wi‑Fi signal that never truly goes down, will define the next chapter of his India career.
