Marlon Samuels' Blanket Celebration After T20 WC Final

Marlon Samuels and Chris Gayle were two of West Indian cricket's most flamboyant personalities — and together they formed one of sport's great entertainment double-acts. Samuels was the cooler, more calculating of the two, capable of ice-cold match-winning innings under pressure; Gayle was the hurricane, the six-hitting behemoth who could reduce any bowling attack to rubble. Their partnership in the West Indies middle and top order produced not just runs but moments of pure theatrical joy.

Their on-field celebrations were legendary. The Gangnam Style dance, the Harlem Shake, the shoulder-twitch shimmy — whenever something good happened for West Indies, Samuels and Gayle were usually at the centre of it, grinning broadly and adding some choreography that had not previously been seen in international cricket. The ICC occasionally frowned; everyone else laughed and rewound the clip.

The 2016 T20 World Cup Final in Kolkata was the backdrop for Samuels's most iconic moment, not with Gayle, but in the same spirit of irreverent, joyful self-expression. After Carlos Brathwaite's four successive sixes, the world expected wild celebration. Samuels delivered — but in the most unexpected way imaginable.

The 2016 ICC World Twenty20 Final matched West Indies against England at Eden Gardens in Kolkata, in front of a roaring 66,000-strong crowd and a global television audience of hundreds of millions. England had set what looked like a stiff target of 155/9 from their 20 overs, with Ben Stokes bowling the final over. West Indies needed 19 from the last six balls — an almost impossible ask by any conventional cricket logic.

Marlon Samuels had been at the crease throughout West Indies' stuttering chase, holding the innings together with trademark composure while wickets fell around him. When Carlos Brathwaite joined him for the final over, the cause seemed lost. Samuels reportedly told Brathwaite something along the lines of "back yourself" — and then watched as his new batting partner hit the first four balls of the over for six to win the World Cup in the most jaw-dropping fashion since cricket invented jaw-dropping finishes.

What happened next was where the story went from memorable to legendary. As the West Indies dressing room erupted, as teammates sprinted onto the field, as Brathwaite was mobbed by everyone in a maroon shirt, Samuels — the man who had held the innings together, the man without whom there would have been no platform for Brathwaite to launch from — found a chair. And sat down.

When Carlos Brathwaite smashed Ben Stokes for four consecutive sixes to win the 2016 T20 World Cup Final in Kolkata, Marlon Samuels' celebration was one for the ages. While the rest of the West Indies team went into ecstatic celebrations — hugging, screaming, doing the champion dance, crying tears of joy — Samuels found a chair. He sat down. He draped what appeared to be a flag or towel around himself like a royal robe. He put his feet up. And he surveyed the scene with the casual air of a man relaxing on his porch after a long day of doing absolutely nothing strenuous.

The image went viral instantly. While teammates were doing laps of honor, jumping on each other, and celebrating with the kind of abandon normally reserved for people who have just escaped from prison, Samuels looked like he was watching paint dry. He sat in that chair with the serene composure of a Buddhist monk who had achieved enlightenment and found it pleasantly underwhelming. It was the most casual celebration of a World Cup victory in any sport, ever.

The contrast between the pandemonium around him and his complete nonchalance was comedy perfection. The camera kept cutting back to Samuels, who remained seated, unbothered, regal. He didn't jump. He didn't run. He didn't shout. He just sat there, wrapped in his makeshift robe, as if winning a World Cup was something he did on Tuesdays and had no intention of letting it disrupt his evening relaxation schedule.

To add to the entertainment, Samuels had been involved in an ongoing feud with Shane Warne, and during the post-match press conference, he aimed several pointed barbs at the Australian legend with the same casual confidence that had characterized his celebration. His entire demeanor during and after the final suggested a man who had been waiting his entire career for this moment — and was determined to enjoy it in the most provocatively relaxed way possible.

“I told Carlos: back yourself. And he did. That's West Indian cricket.”

“Shane Warne, this is for you. You know what you said about me. Now look.”

“Marlon sat down in a chair. In a flag. Like a king. It was the best celebration I've ever seen.”

“He batted beautifully for 85 not out under immense pressure. The chair was just… Marlon being Marlon.”

The image of Samuels sat in his chair, flag-robe around his shoulders, went viral within minutes. Social media was divided between people who found it hilarious and endearing, and a smaller number who thought it was disrespectful to the moment. The majority were firmly in the hilarity camp. The photo was memed extensively — Samuels was photoshopped onto various thrones, into various royal portraits, onto the Iron Throne from Game of Thrones.

Samuels used the post-match conference to settle an ongoing feud with Shane Warne, who had been critical of him in the media. His remarks were cutting, confident, and delivered with the composure of a man sitting in an imaginary throne room. It was the post-match press conference as personal victory lap, and Samuels was enjoying every second of it.

The celebration cemented his status as one of cricket's great characters — a man whose talent was matched only by his self-possession. West Indian fans loved him for it. His innings of 85 not out, built under enormous pressure, was almost forgotten in the deluge of chair-robe memes. Almost, but not quite — those who remembered reminded everyone that the chair celebration was earned.