MEDIA GAG

The Football Guide to Cricket

Sun, 06 May 2012 08:55:00 +0800

What is the cricket equivalent in football?

Warning: This a longer-than-usual piece. If you have the attention span of a goldfish, it would be recommended that you go to a meme-generating website and laugh your tits off.

Every morning, I go through the previous night’s discussions on Twitter. I can, always, count on some sort of topic which has generated indignation far beyond its worth. Yesterday morning it was assertion that Harsha Bhogle had, more or less, called Chennai Super Kings (God, I hate franchise names), cricket’s equivalent of FC Barcelona. Or so it seemed. A few hours later, I read the piece that Bhogle wrote where he expanded upon Jonathan Wilson’s thoughts (always a good idea. I should know), and realized that a mountain had been made of a molehill (and even more importantly, it contained the second reference to Jonathan Wilson on Cricinfo – more than any other football journo I can recall. #TeamWilson).

Now I won’t diss on twitter – after all, it is what introduced me to the joys of reading Brian Phillips – but it does reinforce my beliefs in public outrages being blown out of proportion.

What it did though was start me thinking. There were many things to be discussed here. First there’s this accepted idea that Barca are in decline. Barca’s points totals from their three great years were 87, 96 and 99. They are on their way to getting 93 this year. In the Champions League, they dominated every match they played (unlike 2009 and 2010, when the away legs of semi-finals in both years wouldn’t be part of the DVD of “Pep’s Dream Boys: the official story of the greatest team ever”). Have they really stagnated – or even regressed – or is it something else? Only four times this year have they really looked uncomfortable (in big matches, at least): all four coming against Madrid (the two SuperCopa matches; and the Camp Nou legs in both the Copa del Rey and La Liga). Maybe, just maybe, a highly motivated team worth more than a third of a billion dollars, coached by one of the greats of his generation – and a coach who has been given time and faith by the club – was able to compete against them. They were a Clasico victory – or even a Christian Tello who wouldn’t choke – away from overhauling Madrid. Maybe, like when Nadal started beating Federer on grass, the rival has risen up to their level, rather than the greats regressing. Or maybe it’s a crisis and we should all read the last rites of a once-in-a-generation team.

But this is not what I am here to talk about.

Neither am I going to go on about analyzing the IPL through the prism of European football – and contextualizing it as such. Too much has already been written about what the IPL means, and both sides of the divide have reverted to such extreme positions, that fair and well-reasoned analysis (like this) is as rare as a clean Pakistani pacer.

What I am going to go on about is if CSK are not Barca, then who is? Does cricket have any equivalents in football or do all sports live in separate vacuums? Well, here goes:

Pakistan are Newcastle United FC

A team starved of success found its greatest group of players in the 1990s; a group filled with talent, and devoid of any sense of caution. They became renowned as the great entertainers, known the world over for their gung-ho styles of play. Unfortunately, they could never reach their potential, choking when their greatest victory was within sight.

After the highs of the 90s and early 2000s, came the lows of the mid to late part of the last decade. The team regressed from being the entertainers to an irrelevancy. The style of play which made them great was never abandoned, but the quality of players was far poorer than it had been previously. By the end of the decade, they were a mediocre insignificancy. More than a decade of incompetency at the board level was finally reaping its just rewards.

The last two years, though, have provided a revival – and a revival based on methods far removed from those that made them famous. Led by an initially-unpopular leader, the team continues to exceed all expectations, but the future remains unclear.

Although Newcastle’s pre-90s history is markedly different from Pakistan’s, the last twenty years have been anything but.

Newcastle were the most entertaining team in the first decade of the Premier League, but failed to capture their chance at glory when they blew away a 12-point lead in 1996/97. Pakistan, similarly, had a generation at its peak in the 1999 World Cup, but their performance in the final was no different than Newcastle’s at the tail-end of their great season.

Mike Ashley, Freddy Shepherd, Nasim Ashraf and Ijaz Butt. That’s a hall of shame, if ever there was one.

Before his signing Alan Pardew had the support of less than 2% of Newcastle fans. Misbah’s support – even now – would not be far greater than that. Both of them have gained success from over-achieving journeymen and a team-spirit that is in stark contrast to what has gone on before.

India are FC Internazionale

Failing to achieve their potential until a visionary took them over in the 1960s. Employing an unorthodox, and not unanimously appreciated, form of the game, they reached heights that they had never achieved before. Success in that decade was followed by a fallow period over the next thirty years, with brief flirtations with the good times in the 1980s. The 1990s were spent clinging onto messiahs and hopes of individuals dragging the team to success.

The new century finally brought them success. Most of the first decade was spent consolidating their dominance at home, even as critics accused them of being flat-track bullies who could only dominate at home. The end of the decade brought vindication and international success, led by one of the greatest coaches of his generation. The coach, though, left the team after their greatest success.

They have largely struggled since that annus mirabilis. In addition to the coach’s leaving, the reasons for their fall include the age of the squad and dependence on veterans, injuries and a lack of planning from up top.

Led by Helenio Herrera, Inter won their first league title in a decade in 1963. They followed it up with back-to-back European Cup wins. He was the man who popularized the catenaccio. MAK Pataudi took over India after three decades of minimal success. He broke away from conventional wisdom and employed a trio of spinners to overwhelm the opposition, and start a cycle that would lead to India becoming a powerhouse by the turn of the decade. Both were considered negative and against the spirit of the game. Creating a spinners’ pitch, even now, is considered a crime far greater than once created for the batsmen. Catenaccio, meanwhile, has gone from being the dominant philosophy of winners to being used merely as an insult – or at best a backhanded compliment.

Over the next thirty years India had little success – the 1983 World Cup, and 1985 World Championships being the glimmers of hope. They went through the 1990s not having a terrible away record (they won 2 of 35 away Tests in the decade), whilst being almost unbeatable at home. Inter won a total of two league titles between 1971 and 2006. All this despite often having the best players in the world; India had Sachin Tendulkar.

India reached the top of the Test tree and won the World Cup under Gary Kirsten. They have managed to win one of their 11 away Tests since he left. Jose Mourinho’s Inter won the only treble in Italian football history. They haven’t won a major trophy since then.

Australia are FC Bayern

Nobody remembers the last time they weren’t a powerhouse. They have dominated the game like no other; and even in their lean periods they are far closer to the top than their haters would ever like them to be.

The roots of their success can be traced back to great teams in the 60s and 70s who played the game like free-spirited swashbucklers. But this is not what they are remembered for. One of the reasons for that is that even during these times their rivals were just that little bit sexier/cooler than they ever seemed to be. The second reason is that their teams from the 80s onwards placed winning over any semblance of attractiveness, to the point that they will forever be defined as the evil (cheating) winning machine.

Struggles in the recent past, though, have made them slightly more bearable – and worthy of sympathy – than they were even five years ago.

In the ten World Cups held thus far, Australia have won 4 and finished runners-up twice. No other team has reached more than 3 finals. They also have an overwhelmingly better Test record than any other team. Bayern, meanwhile, have won 22 Bundesligas (the next best is 9).

Ian Chappell’s Australia had the fury, the pacers, the hard hitters and the ‘taches to be the coolest team in the world. But they were no West Indies.

Bayern had Breitner, Hoeness, der Bomber and der Kaiser; but they could never be as cool as Borussia Moenchengladbach (or Ajax). Since then, they – like Australia – have never attempted to be likable to anyone.

After a 3-0 loss to Nurnberg in the 2006/07 season, Mark van Bommel said that the reason for Bayern losing was a lack of arseholes in the squad. This is a sentiment that was shared by many Australians in the years of Mitchell Johnson leading the bowling attack.

West Indies are Liverpool FC

Underperformers until the 1960s, when they were taken over by a succession of truly great leaders who moulded the team and created a unique culture that was half-musketeerian and half-Australian. They dominated the world game in the late 70s and the 80s reaching levels that had rarely been seen before. Relying on power, pace (copyright Andy Gray) and understated guile, they pummelled anyone that came in their way.

Since the early 90s, though, they have been on a constant downward spiral which is occasionally abated by false dawns (as it was in the middle of the last decade). One still gets the feeling that they are still hung-over from their glory days and until those days stop being a burden on the current generation, any form of success is impossible.

West Indies reached the final of the first three World Cups, winning the first two. They did not lose a Test series for 15 years! They dominated the game so much that the rules were changed to stop their dominance (penalizing slow over rates and bouncers). Despite this, they remained the most popular team the world over, bring swag to cricket when no such word existed, whilst winning so consistently that teams copied them and their moves thinking that would make them like the Windies. But no one ever could be. The only football equivalent of Windies in the 80s would be Real Madrid in the late 50s.

Liverpool won 4 European Cups in 8 years (the only other team to win as many in less time is that Madrid team). They also won 10 out of 15 League titles between 1976 and 1990. They haven’t won one since. The only sense of a comeback came when they won the Champions League and FA Cups in consecutive seasons in 2005 and 2006.

Windies meanwhile were knocked off their perch in 1995. Since January 2000, their record would have them relegated if they were in a sport which believed in such things. Their false dawn came when they won the 2004 Champions Trophy and followed it up by winning one of 25 Test matches, to dash any hopes the neutrals had of seeing the most beautiful team in sport do their thing once again.

New Zealand are RCD Espanyol

They are a proud and historic team who have over-achieved for most of their recent history. Their record in cup competitions, in particular, belies the talent and resources – or rather, the lack of them – which they have at their disposal. Despite this, they are far from the media darlings such fairytale teams are. Instead, they will always be ‘the other team’: forever in the shadow of their great neighbour.

Cursed with this far bigger (in size and budget) neighbour, the team has come to be defined– often by their own selves – as David battling the evil forces of Goliath. The fact that Goliath, in this case, sees David through the lens of contempt, and labels him a deluded upstart is what really gets their knickers in a twist. It is this complex relationship – of attempting to gain validation from their rivals whilst they try and inflict maximum pain on them – that has embodied their history.

Perhaps they will never match up to the level of their archrivals, but this does not mean that their over-achievements should be ignored – or even acknowledged only patronisingly.

Espanyol have the 6^th highest points total in La Liga history, and have spent the 4^th highest number of seasons in the Spanish top flight. They have won the Spanish Cup twice in the recent past (in 2000 and 2006 – only Barca have won it more times in the last 20 years), and reached the UEFA Cup final in 2007. Despite all this, they will forever be the second-team in Catalonia – a situation that they aren’t fond of. They are a rejection of the establishment’s club, and their identity has changed according to that club. Quite simply, they are a hipster club.

New Zealand have, similarly, over-achieved. After struggling initially (and by that I mean the first seven decades of the 20^th century), they have established themselves a mid-table outfit not prone to many fluctuations – where the crests aren’t extraordinary, but neither are the troughs (and from a Pakistani’s perspective, that is both enviable and deserving of sympathy). They have reached the semi-final of 6 of the 10 World Cups held thus far (no country has reached that stage more times), without ever winning it. Likewise, they have reached the semi-finals in 3 of the 6 ICC Champions Trophies thus far, even winning the edition in 2000. All this despite being the only major cricket playing nation (excluding the West Indies, which isn’t really a nation) with less than 10 million residents, and a nation where the sport isn’t even a national obsession. And like Espanyol, they have had their share of contempt from ‘big brother’: Australia played a grand total of ONE Test against them from 1930 (admission into Test cricket) to 1973.

England are Athletic Club (Bilbao)

They were the dominant team in the early years of the game. They had the best players, and they continued to innovate and remain ahead of everyone else in the game. But their story of the second half of the 20^th century is one of gradual and inexorable decline. They went from being top dogs in 1950 to an afterthought around the turn of the century.

A major reason for their deterioration was how hung-over they were with traditions and the “old-school” game. The nadir was reached in the 1990s with rampant globalization and professionalism leading to the worst decade in their history.

Today, though, there is optimism. Without throwing aside their traditions, they have embarked upon a rapid ascent under the tutelage of an era-defining coach.

There are matters beyond history that make them distinctive too. They are perhaps the easiest gateway to a tedious debate on nationalism in sports; and their fans are relatively unique for their habit of travelling to away games.

Although Athletic aren’t the oldest club in Spain, it was there that the ‘Spanish style’ would be created. Playing a short-passing game, they dominated in Spain for the first half of the 20^th century. Schooled by Fred Pentland, there style was then adopted across most of Spain. And in hindsight, that went rather well.

Athletic won 5 of the first 12 La Liga titles. To this day, they’ve won more League-and-Cup-doubles than any other team in Spain – Barca have won as many (5). They still are one of the only three teams to have played every season in the top flight. In addition, they have won more Spanish Cups than any team bar Barca. With all that in mind, it is astounding that they have not won a major trophy since 1984. The 1990s was the only decade in the 20^th century when they failed to win either the league or the cup.

The end of the 20^th century saw other teams dominate Spain with the short-passing game, while Athletic became an upper mid-table team playing an ‘English’ style “patapún y p’arriba” whose only success came in Javier Clemente’s first spell.

After more than two decades of mediocrity – and the occasional flirtation with relegation – they turned to Marcelo Bielsa: who has, in the space of ten months, turned their worlds upside down without losing the fans.

England, similarly, dominated international cricket until the 1950s – apart from when they came up against a side which included an Armstrong or a Bradman on the team-sheet. The decline from the 60s till the turn of the century mirrored that of Athletic: the speed of England’s evolution was far slower than that of their competitors. Harking back in nostalgia to their long-gone period of domination didn’t help matters either. The culmination of this period came in 1999 when England found themselves rock-bottom in the international Test rankings. But under Duncan Fletcher they started to discard their ‘traditions’ and slowly climb up the ladder. The groundwork laid then has allowed Andy Flower (the coach since 2008) to lead England to where they are now: top of the Test rankings.

As for their composition, Athletic have a pretty unique policy of only playing Basques – however loose that term may be. England, on the other hand, can never be accused of being restricted by the traditional definitions: there top-four includes a Strauss, a Trott and even a Pietersen.

Sri Lanka are Club Atletico de Madrid SAD

Another team which has forever been in the shadow of their neighbours and their great rivals, they managed to reach their greatest achievement in 1996 (in their recent history, at least). Although there has never been a shortage of talent in the team, the players can be excused for being a little inconsistent; after all, they work for some of the most incompetent people ever to hold important sporting positions – and that is saying something with the competition that is there.

The team itself, despite claims to the contrary, suffers from relying on only a handful of top players – with the remaining slots filled by distinctly average players.
Their fans remain as passionate as ever, even if the world doesn’t really give them due attention. Although, there matches against their great neighbours have gone beyond tedium and are now just ridiculous.

Sri Lanka, surprisingly, won the World Cup in 1996 in what should have been the stepping stone into the big-time. The subsequent domination never came, though. And it is could be down to the people who run the Sri Lankan Cricket Board.

Blessed with the likes of Murali, Sanga and Mahela, they would have contested for the top slot in recent years (in all forms of the game), had it not been for the support staff being the likes of Dilhara Fernando.

And yes I am bitter, since I tipped them to win the 2011 World Cup.

Atleti are a notch above though. They won the double in 1996, and followed it up with… nothing. You can’t blame the players – especially the better ones – though. Inconsistency is bound to happen with players and coaches being brought in and/or released at a greater frequency than at almost any other club. You wouldn’t expect any less from a club run by the likes of Jesus Gil, his son and Enrique Cerezo.

South Africa are…??

I looked around, I honestly did, but could not find a team as ridiculous as the South African cricket team.

Perhaps, I thought, Chelsea – for they have dominated the domestic game without conquering the big time; or Arsenal, and their trophy-less voyage.

Maybe Schalke – the second (or third, or fourth) biggest club in Germany in terms of fan-base – a club that has failed to win the Bundesliga since its formation; often losing it in South African circumstances.

But no one compares to South Africa. They dominate more often than not in their distinctive soulless robotic play (post 2003 debutants aside – can’t really call Steyn, Amla or de Villiers soulless), until it comes to the World Cup. This is a team which has the second best win-to-loss ratio since their return to international cricket. And yet they have never won a knockout match in the World Cup.

And this is all before I try and match South Africa’s cricket history – and all its complexities – with a club. Put simply, South Africa are unique – for better or worse.

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In conclusion, there is no equivalent to Barca in cricket. The domestic game remains secondary – and of a lower standard – in cricket, so it had to be an international team. Even if we look at the IPL, Chennai with 2 victories in 4 years – and a win percentage less than 60% - cannot compare to Barca. Particularly considering the affect Barca have had on the game as a whole, something Chennai can’t match. If anything, the equivalent to Barca would be the Sialkot Stallions in Pakistan: winners of 6 of the 8 domestic T-20s held thus far (discounting the Super8s). But Barca are likable – and that is not something a team led by Shoaib Malik can be accused of. This is a team that has had a drug cheat, a match-fixer, a convicted felon and a smuggler. And that’s just one bloke. The theatrics of Sergio Busquets and Dani Alves pale in comparison.

So, we go back, to Australia of the 90s: equally dominant and revolutionary. But likeability was never a trait associated with them. Even further back, and voila! West Indies in the 80s, of course. Likeable, revolutionary and dominant. Plus they were cool, on a level that even Barca can never match. In fact, the question now becomes, has there ever been a football equivalent of that West Indies team?

Finally, West Indies were also the anti-establishment. Rules, as said (far far) above were changed due to their dominance. Barca, on the other hand… well, over to Jose.

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If you would like to suggest any alternatives please do so in the comments section or on twitter.

Is Pakistan ready for internationals?

Thu, 19 Apr 2012 09:07:00 +0800

I think not.

New post which I wrote for Dawn:

http://dawn.com/2012/04/16/is-pakistan-ready-for-internationals/

The reaction to it has been overwhelming… and negative.

Who would have thought that saying no team should tour Pakistan until the situation in the country stabilizes is equivalent to questioning the ideology of Pakistan. Well, half of Pakistan (at least the one that has access to Twitter), apparently. All good to know, I suppose.

The Asia Cup

Tue, 10 Apr 2012 13:15:39 +0800

Preview and Review

Two articles which I wrote for Dawn.

Firstly, the preview and why the Asia Cup mattered to certain parties.

http://dawn.com/2012/03/12/why-the-asia-cup/

And then the review following the loss to India, and how this impacts the overall trend of the rivalry

http://dawn.com/2012/03/29/changing-tides/

Pakistan’s Stars In Waiting

Tue, 10 Apr 2012 13:12:15 +0800

The sequel

A follow up post to the article written for All Out Cricket in November. This profiles the next generation, ready to be wasted by the Pakistan team: Babar Azam, Hammad Azam and Raza Hasan

http://www.alloutcricket.com/blogs/comment/pakistans-stars-in-waiting-hammad-azam-and-raza-hassan#sItGLuiet4wh2FTb.99

The Prodigal Wunderkind

Mon, 12 Mar 2012 20:08:02 +0800

The enigma that is Umar Akmal

My thoughts on the man who has gone from being the darling of the Pakistani public to the favourite pinata; and trying to understand how much of his regression is down to him.

http://www.thesightscreen.com/post-match-opinions/the-prodigal-wunderkind/

A Team Misbah Collection

Sat, 03 Mar 2012 18:50:00 +0800

A compilation

1. The first written tribute; after the series victory against Sri Lanka, Team Misbah shows how it’s similar to Imran’s streetwise foxes.

2. Defending the tuk tuk King after the ODI series win versus Sri Lanka.

3. Paying homage to a surprisingly good year for the Pakistan cricket team.

4. Previewing the England series - and showing some rare optimism.

5. Discussing the series victory over England, and the team’s overall recovery, with Subhash Jayaraman and Ahmer Naqvi on Couch Talk.

6. The final tribute to Team Misbah following their remarkable victory in the Abu Dhabi Test versus England.

7. And finally, the outpouring of emotion as Team Misbah knock the best in the world off their perch.

And the journey leading up to it:

1. A five part rant on the trio and the scandal.

2. The first signs of recovery: Abdul Razzaq and his bludgeoning brilliance versus South Africa.

3. Encouraging the fans to keep the faith in the wake of the Shoaib Akhtar-inspired implosion versus New Zealand in the ICC World Cup 2011.

4. More faith keeping, this time after the loss at Mohali.

5. As the whole world mourned the loss of Mohammad Aamer, it was his strike partner whom I wished to remember.

6. Questioning whether the trio would ever be welcomed back.

7. Also in the England series, defending Saeed Ajmal, twice.

But, this being Pakistan, there are always some things that you find disagreeable:

1. Team Misbah’s attempts to carry a passenger.

2. And the attempts to destroy the talent of a generation.

3. And despite the successes, the team could evolve into something better, if only the backroom staff were better.

Pakistan's Second Coming

Thu, 01 Mar 2012 13:50:00 +0800

Eighteen months ago Pakistani cricket was so mired in scandal and chaos that people spoke openly of its demise. But Pakistan’s well-honed survival instinct remains resolutely intact

This article was written before the Pakistan-England Test series, and was published in the February issue of the All Out Cricket magazine. The alterations at the end were added during the first Test.

On the back of an historic victory against the world’s number one side the previous summer, England travelled to Asia to take on a resurgent Pakistan led by a calm, avuncular captain. That was six years ago; Plus ça change…

Except this time around, a lot has actually changed. When England toured Pakistan in 2005, coming unstuck against Inzamam ul-Haq’s well-drilled firebrands, theirs’ was a good team but not yet a great one. At the time, England’s relationship with Pakistan was unprecedentedly cordial, after several tours had come and gone without so much as a spat, an allegation or a threatened court case.

Then 2010 happened. The cricket world recoiled. A year later, Pakistan’s three best cricketers were languishing in English prisons, their actions held up to buttress allegations of institutional corruption. With the stains from that summer still lingering, along with embarrassing memories of that dark morning when the game was exposed in a tabloid newspaper, England arrived in the United Arab Emirates with far more intent than was in evidence six years ago. Despite the party line about moving on from events of the past and concentrating on the cricket, there was enough pre-series talk about the need to be aggressive, to play hard, to sledge when the time comes, to get the subtext: England were not the ones who needed to cleanse themselves.

But the Pakistan team that England faced in that first, rather surreal contest in Dubai is a vastly different animal to the discredited squad they ran into only 18 months ago. The current Pakistan team is very much in the image of its urbane captain, Misbah-ul-Haq: calm to the point of being boring, and with an air of pride in their defensiveness. Both team and captain are on their equivalents of Hercules’ labours, in a constant struggle to remove the stains from their reputations.

As a late developer at international level untainted by associations with a scurrilous past, Misbah is in many ways the perfect Pakistan captain at this delicate stage in their rehabilitation; he’s Krushchev, the steady moderate installed to douse the flames after the excesses of Stalin’s regime. With Misbah working alongside the first controversy-free administration in years, Pakistan seem to be going places and atoning for their sins.

On the pitch, these shoots of resurgence have been grown on the back of age-old ‘Pakistanisms’. While every other country in the world has its best batsman in the top three or four, Pakistan have preferred to put theirs at numbers four and five, often with less experienced (and less talented) players occupying the top-order positions. At the top, Pakistan have, as they’ve so often had, a trio – at least two of whom are plodders; players whose sole aim is to see off the new ball and destroy the spirits of the opposition bowling attack; not by attacking in the style of a Sehwag or a Warner, but with such a conservative approach to strokemaking that the opposition bowlers question the point of their exertions.

Despite Pakistan’s reputation for pyrotechnics, such an approach is not uncommon. In the golden age back in the Eighties, Pakistan had Mudassar Nazar and Shoaib Mohammad to do these roles – Mudassar once scored 52 runs over the course of a whole day – to accompany Ramiz Raja or Mohsin Khan, men whose record barely does justice to the talent he had. Now, the first two roles are done by sturdy accumulators in Taufeeq Umar and Azhar Ali. Taufeeq is a man who bats like a crab trying to undress itself whilst Azhar is a delightful rebuttal of the T20 age who scores his runs at a strike-rate under 40.

The second stage of the formula brings in the star batsmen. Roles that were given to Javed Miandad and Salim Malik in the golden age, and Mohammad Yousuf and Inzamam when England toured in 2005, are today reprised by Misbah and Younis Khan. Both have averaged over 75 since the South Africa series in 2010, with Pakistan basing their revival on this plan. Perhaps the best way to explain their approach will be thus: Pakistan averaged more than 40 runs a wicket in 2011 – bettered only by England – but they scored their runs at a lower rate than any other major nation. The message is clear: only upon fortified foundations can real recovery take place.

The return of Younis Khan is symbolically significant as well as tactically astute. Here is a man universally accepted as the most honest of his generation who had his prime years as a Test batsman suspended on account of his uprightness. But today he is back, providing the backbone of the side. Among players who scored more than 200 runs in 2011, only Ian Bell averaged more: Younis even averaged more than Alastair Cook, who was in his annus mirabilis. But more far-reaching than his stats is the fact that he is there at all, reintroduced into a side finally devoid of political machinations (from atop and within) and backstabbing. It has been a long time coming, but Pakistan and Younis are finally pulling in the same direction.

In addition, there is a bowling attack that relies on containment – a pace attack without the verve of the fallen Mohammads, Asif or Amir – but with a sense of discipline that when allied with the magic of off-spinner Saeed Ajmal becomes a potent threat to any batting line-up. In particular, the emergence of Junaid Khan, a 21-year-old left-arm quick, might sooth the pain that most cricket lovers (in Pakistan and elsewhere) felt at the loss of Amir. The black hole that opened up when the teenager overstepped so wildly at Lord’s might have at least been partially filled.

Then there’s the ODI team, which is a completely different beast – mostly thanks to the presence of a beast that is completely different, Shahid Afridi. To be sure, Afridi’s career – as well as the careers of his fellow thirtysomethings Misbah and Younis – may not have a significant number of years left, but all Pakistan are aiming to do is to maximise their output in the handful of years left in them.

But Pakistan’s recent successes go way beyond batting orders and scorecards. Far and away their greatest achievement in the past 18 months has been to reignite an optimistic attitude in a group of fans that seemed to have died that fateful day at Lord’s. Their success – and the manner of it – has been the catharsis that Pakistani fans so desperately needed.

It is because of them that the kneejerk denial and the conspiracy theorising of September 2010 had turned into sober admonishment by September 2011; the time had allowed Pakistanis to reflect on some unavoidable home truths and become better for it.

In the end, despite the degree of public sympathy for the convicted – well, for one of them anyway – the reaction was far less jingoistic and excessive than it had been a year earlier. Whilst this is to be applauded, would the court case have become an element of ‘closure’ were it not for the team’s performances on the field? It’s doubtful.

Pakistan and its fans have moved on from the spot-fixing scandal in a way few would have predicted. A nation which had become pessimistic after a life of false dawns and dashed hopes has rediscovered its belief. The board, even more than the team, has reached a stage of surprising competence. The conveyor-belt of talented youngsters continues to churn out new idols to worship. There might even be international cricket on these shores in the near future. Bangladesh’s proposed visit, backed by promises from the Pakistan government, seems like a step in the right direction. Change will be gradual, however.

There are hints of some light at the end of the tunnel. For the first time in what seems a lifetime, one can accept the mantra that the future might be green. With all this in mind, I half expected a 3-0 loss in the Test series versus England. There would have been no sense of surprise if that had happened; after all, that would be the most Pakistani result possible. I settled down to watch that first Test hoping for the best but anticipating the worst; three days later, I couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps, after all, Pakistan really is the team that just wouldn’t die.

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That reads surprisingly well in hindsight. Thank God for Team Misbah. You can follow me defending him, against the cabal of infidel fanboys on twitter.

A tribute to Team Misbah

Mon, 30 Jan 2012 18:48:00 +0800

Back-to-back wins against the world number 1s. Team Misbah exceeds expectations once again

“Only two things really bind this country together. One is war and the other is cricket.” Omar Kureishi

“What does not kill me, makes me stronger.” Friedrich Nietzsche

Pakistan cricket has always defined itself by its relations with its former colonial masters. Firstly, there are the influences, whether they be direct, as in the British Ranji trophy or hordes of Pakistanis honing their skills in the county circuit, or indirect, as is the case with the two men who have influenced Pakistani cricket more than anyone else: two nationalist brown sahibs, if ever there was such a thing. Secondly, there are the contests: The two victories in the ’50s announced the birth of a nation, the ‘62 tour which brought Pakistan to its darkest generation, the ‘82 and ‘92 tours which proclaimed the dawn of two great generations, the latter of which bowed out in the twilight at the National Stadium in 2000, and that’s before all that has gone on in the past decade. With all this in mind, it makes sense to truly hyperbolize what Team Misbah has done this month, however hard that might be.

How Team Misbah is the reincarnation of Imran’s team Part 1 and Part 2

The first test victory and the genius of Saeed Ajmal

Everything since Lord’s 2010 has been remarkable in hindsight. The fight-back, first led by Umar Gul in winning two ODIs singlehandedly, then Razzaq and Younis going a step further in the South Africa series. And then to 2011: the year which brought Pakistan their first away series win in three years; something which seems scarcely believable now. From the ashes a team has been built, with the discarded scraps of another time; journeymen rising up to outperform the galacticos. More than the results or the manner of it, it is the essence of Team Misbah that been the most surprising and gratifying. I – and many other devotees of the Order of Tuk Tuk – spent 2011 trying (and failing) to convince people that this team was the reincarnation of Imran’s streetwise foxes. In hindsight, I realize how foolish I was, for any argument – logical or otherwise – cannot compare to the team schooling the best in the world. It was said that they only did it against weaker sides; it was said that they had never had a true challenge, that they could never win playing so slowly, that their captain would always be persona non grata following Mohali. Today he stands, a serene smile on his face, and asks that immortal question, “kaisa diya aapko?”

“How else could one explain the sublime waste of an entire day on something with no redeeming purpose whatsoever?” Mike Marqusee on Test Cricket

The evening of the third day had been spent trying – as had so often been the case – to defend the tactics of Team Misbah against disbelievers. By the following morning, it was time to start clutching at straws: Misbah and the two youngsters had batted with great heart over the course of the match; the tail had wagged when it wasn’t expected to, the series was still tied, and winning one test against the best in the world isn’t a minor achievement anyway. A target of 145 looked straightforward, yet I – like all other Pakistani fans – remained glued to their screens. There was something in our subconscious which told us that this just wasn’t over. I promised myself that I would stop watching if a wicket didn’t fall in the first ten overs, and go and have my first meal for twenty-four hours. The wicket didn’t fall, yet I stayed put. The chokehold of the spinners was mesmerizing to both the batsman and the spectator. Soon the frog had started boiling, but it remained in denial (as it has done so till this very moment). The wickets fell and felt like dominoes, each one seeming to be a means not an end. As Pietersen was rapped on the pads (apologies for channeling Ravishankar Shastri), I jumped up to my feet, appealing to no one in particular. Two balls later Morgan’s defenses were breached and I fell to my knees, hands raised in the air, speechless. It took a couple of second before I asked myself the question the English batsmen would have been asking themselves, “what the f*** am I doing?”

What happened on that fourth day can be explained logically. The reason Pakistan produce so many collapses has to do with them never having a truly great batting order, and always one that was susceptible to the moving ball. This results in low scores. What Pakistan have had over the past three decades, though, are the ingredients required in instigating a collapse: bowlers who bowl fast and swing the ball late, and spinners who are difficult to pick. And once it happens a handful of times then it starts becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy; something that is in subconscious of both teams on the field. And thus we see ordinary men do extraordinary things.

Pakistan’s greatest Test victories in 1990s

Pakistan’s greatest Test victories in 2000s

But does that matter? We, in the 21^st century, try to decipher everything. We try to find the explanations in science and in Sufism. All that may be useful in the cold light of a distant day. But on days like the 28^th of January it doesn’t matter. It was one of those rare days when you are lost in passion, the heart trumps the brain, and you realize the reasons you fell in love with that team; the sheer irrational emotionalism that they bring out of you. Eleven men that you’ve never met, whose sole association to you is an accident of birth, bringing you to a point of delirious euphoria. It’s the hit that an addict can survive on for years.

Will Team Misbah disintegrate after this? Was it all a flash in the pan? Is it a short term project built upon creaking legs? The answers to all those questions may be what you fear, but at this moment none of that matters, because Pakistan won, and they won in a way only they can.

And now for some gloating

In September 1981 Norway, a football minnow at the time, defeated England – still considered the great team from the home of football – by 2-1. This match would have been lost in annals of history, only remembered by Norwegian anoraks, were it not for the efforts of Bjørge Lillelien. He produced a rant which in modern parlance would be referred to as epic. Today seems the perfect day to reproduce that from a Pakistani perspective.

We are the best in the world! We are the best in the world! We have beaten England!! It is completely unbelievable! We have beaten England! England, the birthplace of giants. David Cameron, Mike Langley, Simon Heffer, Martin Samuel, Tom Graveney, John Woodcock, Ian Botham - we have beaten them all. We have beaten them all.

Bob Willis can you read this? Bob Willis, I have a message for: We have knocked England off their perch. Bob Willis, as they say in your language in the boxing bars around Madison Square Garden in New York: Your boys took a hell of a beating! Your boys took a hell of a beating!”

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For supplementary reading: Osman Samiuddin and Ahmer Naqvi on how the fightback on the fourth day has its roots in sufism. And Ahsan Butt tries to decipher the controlled insanity of Pakistani cricket. If that doesn’t float your boat and you really want even more then you can always pop down to twitter. And you can listen to me harp on about Team Misbah in conversation with the Cricket Couch.

A Clash of Cultures

Sun, 22 Jan 2012 02:57:29 +0800

A thesis for the reasons behind the continuous controversies that emerge in Pakistan England contests

My theory on why such controversies always emerge.

http://www.thesightscreen.com/post-match-opinions/a-clash-of-cultures/

Ready And Waiting: Pakistan’s Forgotten Talents

Mon, 16 Jan 2012 09:39:00 +0800

A look at three talented youngsters who, having slipped down the reckoning, are now snapping at the heels of the current side

Here’s an article I wrote for All Out Cricket on three players who had been tipped for glorious careers as teenagers but have, for one reason or another, slipped down the order for national selection. Three case studies, if you will, on how Pakistan’s talents do not fulfill their potential.

http://www.alloutcricket.com/blogs/comment/ready-and-waiting-pakistan-crickets-forgotten-talents

Clasico conclusions

Tue, 13 Dec 2011 16:18:00 +0800

Some thoughts on the December 2011 Clasico

There was a time when the home-ground for a Jose Mourinho led side used to be a fortress. Until the loss to Sporting Gijon earlier this year, Mourinho’s sides had been unbeaten in 149 home matches over 9 years. There was also a time when the Bernabeu was a difficult place to visit for Barcelona. When a Ronaldinho-inspired Barca changed the rivalry in 2004, it was their third win in two decades at the Bernabeu.

That is no longer the case; after the win last Saturday, Pep Guardiola remains unbeaten at the Bernabeu, and has lost only one of the twelve Clasicos he has managed. Not since the early 60s has the rivalry been as lopsided as this.

The score is not always the story

Football fans and journalists often build the story of the match around the score, rather than treating it as a part of the tale. This is something which was best exposed by Jonathan Wilson, and came to my mind in the aftermath of the Clasico. For 65 minutes the match was even, yet it’s the last 25 by which it is being discussed.

Madrid started off the better, spurred by Benzema’s flukey opener (Madrid fans would argue that their high-pressing led to it, and they made their own luck; everyone else would disagree), they controlled the match for the first 20-25 minutes. After that Barca came back, equalizing (perhaps deservedly), dominating the next fifteen minutes. By the end of the first half, it had been back to even. Madrid had had more shots on and off target; the possession had been less, but that was to be expected, and accepted by Madrid. Madrid had been in better creating opportunities than Barca, and had it not been for Angel di Maria and Mesut Ozil being uncharacteristically poor with the final ball, they would’ve created more.

The first fifteen minutes of the second half followed the same pattern, Barcelona controlled the ball, but Madrid would’ve felt they never controlled the game. When Cesc Fabregas scored the third in the 66^th minute, both teams had had only two clear-cut chances (and one lucky goal each): Messi capitalizing on Ramos’ slip to produce a fantastic save out of Iker Casillas, and then invoking the spirit of Maradona to find Alexis Sanchez twenty yards from goal. Madrid’s two chances both fell to Ronaldo.

Over the last twenty five minutes, Barca overran Madrid, and won deservedly. But that first hour was the closest Madrid have been to Barca in years (if you discount the SuperCup where Madrid had twice as many shots over two legs, and the better chances, but failed to beat a Barca side that wasn’t as ready for the season as Madrid were. Or rather failed to beat Leo Messi).

The praise for Andres Iniesta is the case in point – a player who only came into his own in the second half. The best Barca players over 90 minutes were Pique and Puyol (and Messi too, as always).

In the end Barca won, and deservedly so, as they were the better side. But this was no schooling.

Madrid popping

In cycling, there comes a point when the relationship between the mind and the body is overturned. When the body refuses to respond to the demands set by the mind. The phrase used is ‘to pop’. Around the hour mark in the Clasico, this is what happened to Madrid.

Until Xavi’s goal, Madrid would have been equal on points had this been a bout, and even after that they were close to matching Barca for every step, until Cesc’s goal. The last twenty five minutes, though, saw Madrid play without the belief that they could get a result. Sure they sent everyone forward – and allowed Barca to attack the gaps left behind – but they attacked without conviction. The pressing was hard and fast until the 52^nd minute. Xavi’s goal, and the nature of it, knocked half the stuffing out of the team. Cesc’s goal, coming within second of Ronaldo missing a free header, knocked out the rest.

Compare that to Barca; they fell behind and failed to control the game at the start, but never once did they lose their conviction. They believed, rightly, that if they kept doing what they did, they would win. The faces and play of Madrid players after Xavi’s goal seemed to suggest that they were trying to say, ‘look, we tried our best, we played to our peak and as we were instructed, yet we still find ourselves behind.’ For Barca, the style – which has been reinforced by unprecedented success – is never abandoned. The difference between the two sides was not on the pitch, but in their heads. Madrid did not lose their conviction because of the nature of Xavi’s goal; they lost it because that goal came after Madrid had lost 8 of the last 12 Clasicos.

For the third Clasico in a row Madrid lost because they failed to convert their chances. They also lost because Barca didn’t fail in converting theirs.

The devil is in the details

With no penalties, red cards or Unicef logos on Barca’s shirts, the only thing left for Jose Mourinho to blame was luck, which he did. He also talked about “details”, specifically referring to the two chances of Ronaldo (which were more about incompetence than lack of luck) and Xavi’s goal. He was correct in talking about details, but he was talking about the wrong ones.

The match was won, as has been done so often, by Pep Guardiola as much as the players. His decision to push Alves forward after the first twenty minutes led to a string of “details” that delivered the victory: Puyol moved to the right and nullified Ronaldo, Busquets helped out the defence and was able to play under less duress. But most importantly, Alves’ new role meant that he now played in zones which he preferred (and from where he provided the third goal) and the midfield titled to the left, allowing Iniesta and Fabregas (especially in the third goal), to attack the one player on either team who was playing in a role he was uncomfortable with: Fabio Coentrao playing as right back. This image by Opta shows the role the positions that Alves occupied, and the concentration of midfield in the inside-left channel which led to Iniesta, in particular, tormenting Coentrao endlessly.

This is not the first time that Guardiola’s tactical ingenuity has been essential in Barca’s success in the Clasico. In the 2-0 win over Pellegrini’s Madrid, he used Alves and Maxwell alternating as tornantes with Puyol, Pique and Abidal moving across to either side to adjust to the changes. It was also in a Clasico, the 6-2 victory over Ramos’ Madrid, that he unleashed the false-nine 4-3-3 which he had used on few occasions before. There was a generalized consensus which had developed in the post-Bosman football world: “tactical” coaches were those who tried to negate the opposition’s style of play; reactionary tactics, if you will. Pep has overturned that.

The Messi-Ronaldo debate

At this point, it is not even a debate. Ronaldo-defenders will still state that he is a more complete player than Messi.

Some truths to be considered: Messi has scored more goals against Iker Casillas than any other keeper in La Liga. In addition to the matches – like the manita last year – in which he has been vital without scoring, his record in Clasicos stands at 13 goals in 16 matches. Ronaldo’s is 3 in 10. Ronaldo cannot – or has not – provided the play in which he takes control of the game and changes it’s situation like Messi did for the equaliser on Saturday. His big game goals have come from long shots (versus Arsenal in the FA Cup and Porto in 2009 CL) or from finishing moves off (CL Final in 2009, Copa del Rey winner, Arsenal in CL semi-final, SuperCup in 2011). We were told in the aftermath of the rally of Clasicos last year that the problem was that he didn’t have the service that Messi had. This ignores the fact that many times in Clasicos, alone, Messi has rescued Barcelona when there was no service to him. On Saturday, he had better chances created for him than his rival, but Messi affected the game, and Ronaldo bottled what came his way. It was a choke worthy of the South African cricket team.

His attempts at individual plays – which Mourinho has curbed somewhat in the past twelve months – in this game was him trying to assert his position alongside Messi. The fact that he bottled it shows how much this rivalry is playing on his mind.

This is not to denigrate the player that Ronaldo is. He is still a damn good player, as good a flat-track bully as there is in the world. But he is the successor to Thierry Henry and Zlatan Ibrahimovic; Messi lies in the plane of Zidane and Maradona.

He might still be a more complete player than Messi; but completeness is no substitute for perfection.

And some final thoughts

Are Barcelona now favourites for the Liga? I doubt it. Their away record, and their squad depth are still inferior to Madrid’s. Moreover, should Madrid win against Sevilla next matchday, they will have a three-point lead over Barca.

Can Madrid win la decima? Yes, as long as they don’t face Barca. If they do, then they will have to overcome the greatest side of the past twenty years, and the mental block that pervades in their matches now. With Bayern still struggling against teams that press them hard, the English giants out, and Milan still as slow as Eeyore, the Spanish big two look like they’ll end up facing each other in Munich in May, if the draw is kind to them.

Who’s the happiest after this? Well, Guardiola’s team will probably still be behind the leaders, and Mourinho’s team can’t beat their greatest rivals: so, the happiest man would probably be Vicente del Bosque (although it is difficult to picture him being happy). After a spate of ill-tempered Clasicos, the handshakes before and after the game, and the somewhat cordial spirit it was played in would have calmed him down a bit. The fact that starters for his greatest rivals (Khedira and Ozil) are suffering through second-season slumps would please him, were it not for that – as Klose and Podolski have shown – Germans don’t need their players to be in great club form to succeed.

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If after all the link provided, you are still left unsatisfied; or if you disagree with the assertions made here, then the comments section is there for a reason. If that doesn’t float your boat and you really want even more of the blog, you can always pop down to twitter where the blog is procrastinating away like there’s no tomorrow.

The Forsaken: To be forgiven or forgotten?

Fri, 02 Dec 2011 02:58:00 +0800

Should the Pakistani cricket fraternity welcome back the disgraced trio?

The following article was first published in the December 2011 issue of the All Out Cricket magazine

When General Musharraf seized power in a coup in 1999, it was welcomed by a large number of Pakistanis who had grown tired of the bad governance and perceived corruption in their democratic leader. Eight years later, Musharraf was being hounded out of power and the two political leaders who had been exiled in 1999 – with a good riddance from the public – were being welcomed back by throngs of hundreds of thousands. Such is the state of the Pakistani public: forever fickle, nostalgic and forgiving. If you have done enough time, all your sins seem to be washed away. Every time someone asks me whether the trio involved in spot fixing will be welcomed back, this is what I hark back to. Time is a great healer, particularly in a country like Pakistan, where more things seem to happen in a shorter span of time than any other place. Will they be welcomed back? Most definitely; well, one of them will.

There is a historical precedent of this even. Eleven years ago Justice Qayyum was in the position that Justice Cooke and his jury were in this year. It was in 2006 that Qayyum revealed that he had been lenient on a player or two because he had a ‘soft spot for them’. The world was aghast but Pakistanis understood; these guys were nothing but pawns in a flawed system. In the verdict, Qayyum banned Salim Malik (who was in his late 30s by the time) and Ata-ur-Rehman (who hadn’t played internationally for a few years), because they were expendable scapegoats. The rest – i.e. the regulars – got off with a stern word or two. In the current case, Salman Butt and Mohammad Asif are the older players, and therefore more expendable. Furthermore individually they don’t offer much either. In a five year career Asif has been banned for doping twice, was caught in the Dubai airport with drugs, been involved in a very public relationship and breakup with Veena Malik (think one-third Katie Price, one-third Heather Mills, and one-third something that only Pakistan could produce), and the excuse he offered far too many times was that of the innocent and simple villager. With this, the threshold of acceptance has broken.

As for Butt, he was never a good enough player to evoke strong emotions. With him it was always anger or indifference.

But Aamer is different. As the case unfolded, Aamer’s reputation as a pawn and a victim only grew. If Mazhar Majeed is to believed, the lad got less than 4% of the distributed money; and even from the viewpoint of someone who resents the actions of the three, that amount was just unfair. Moreover, Aamer was everything Pakistanis love: he was young, charismatic, supremely talented, from an impoverished background, seemingly simple and most of all, a genuine fast swing bowlers. Fast bowlers are allowed all sorts of indiscretions (just google Wasim Akram or Shoaib Akhtar), and always accepted. Much like rockstars in the west, all their flaws are traded and accepted for a few moments of pure genius. And Aamer had perhaps the most spectacular breakthrough since Waqar. Would Pakistanis welcome him back? In a heartbeat.

The question though is, would Pakistan need them. Increasingly the feeling seems to be that while the scandal has destroyed Pakistan’s reputation – or whatever of it was left - in the medium and long term this might be the best thing to happen to Pakistan cricket. Since that fateful series against England, Pakistan are unbeaten in five series, losing only one test in the process. Furthermore, Pakistan have gone frm being the worst major ODI nation last year (5 wins in 18 matches) to being second best this year (18 wins in 25 completed matches). The team is playing much like their leader Misbah-ul-Haq: understated, overachieving and honest. It’s the last part that is most crucial. The harping, the rumours and the whispers seemed to have lessened in the aftermath, with very few Pakistani losses resulting in the once-common call of the match being investigated (the semi-final loss to India at Mohali being the great exception). Could the court case and the verdict have finally brought some semblance of sanity and decency to the Pakistan team? Have the trio become deterrents in a way that the once-dishonest players (if there were any) have been forced to discontinue their treachery? Could we finally see a Pakistan team play to its full potential?

Only time will tell; and at this time all we have is conjecture. It could just be that the team is winning, and once things go awry the knives will come out. But bizarre as it may sound, it actually feels good to be a Pakistani fan right now: finally able to watch a team without beasts in our head.

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Visit the All Out Cricket website if you wish to get the latest issue. Otherwise just head over to twitter to hear my latest ramblings.

The 'tuk tuk' King

Thu, 01 Dec 2011 02:56:00 +0800

An ode to the king

I’ve written an article for DAWN explaining the reasons for Misbah’s success, and why he still cannot reside in the hearts of the Pakistani public. Additionally, there’s a history lesson on the country’s cricket.

http://www.dawn.com/2011/11/26/the-tuk-tuk-king.html

Enjoy!

Pakistan Drawing On The Past To Build For The Future

Tue, 29 Nov 2011 19:20:00 +0800

Thoughts on the Pakistan’s rise and rise in 2011

My second article for All Out Cricket. You can find it in the link below.

http://www.alloutcricket.com/blogs/comment/pakistan-cricket-drawing-on-the-past-imran-khan

Enjoy!

The cricket conundrum

Sun, 13 Nov 2011 03:21:00 +0800

Trying to understand two decades of Pakistani cricket

I have written my second article for DAWN, detailing how one 60 second ad can explain all there is to know to understand Pakistani cricket psychology.

http://www.dawn.com/2011/11/11/the-cricket-conundrum.html

Enjoy!

An Honest Man Is One Who Hasn’t Been Given A Chance To Be Dishonest Yet

Tue, 08 Nov 2011 01:55:00 +0800

Thoughts on the spot-fixing saga and why the guilt should not be shared between four people only

I have written my first article for All Out Cricket. You can find it in the link below.

http://www.alloutcricket.com/blogs/comment/an-honest-man-is-one-who-hasnt-been-given-a-chance-to-be-dishonest-yet%E2%80%A6

Enjoy!

The false prophet

Tue, 01 Nov 2011 23:04:00 +0800

Muhammad Asif: oh, what could’ve been…

Whenever a team is compiled of the greatest cricketers of all time, the opening slot is contested by players who broke records of endurance and reigned over the test arena (the likes of Gavaskar, Hutton and Hobbs), and by one bloke who played only four tests. Barry Richards played a single series against Australia, but in that he proved what a talent he was (averaging 70+ against a pretty decent attack). A decade later, he would participate in Kerry Packer’s world series, and again, average over 70. The only other players who averaged more than fifty were Greg Chappell and Sir Viv. His life and career remains one of the greatest ‘what ifs’ in cricket history. And it was a quote from him that I was reminded of this evening.

“This, folks, is a 400-Test wickets man right here.”

These were the words he reserved for his successor in the great what ifs category. I have always written in glowing terms about Muhammad Asif; he may not have had the greatest of characters, but by God, he was one of a kind with the ball in his hand.

The church of Pakistan fast bowling is built upon brash, larger-than-life individuals. Shoaib was the true successor to Wasim and Waqar: quick, destructive and occasionally erratic. Yet, there was more to Shoaib than his forerunners. Like the church in the late middle ages, Akhtar was decadent, unreliable and seemed untrustworthy, yet he remained the only source for salvation. Two generations of Pakistanis had spent their childhoods trying to bowl as fast as they possibly could, regardless of the talent or physical attributes they may have lacked. For them – and for cricket in the country in general – Asif was the Martin Luther. He was the man who stood up against the norms of the time, taking us into a more enlightened age, while still reminding us of the foundation of the church (Fazal Mahmood and Khan Mohammad). He had the world at his feet, and the pantheon to look forward to.

Instead, he now lies somewhere in a foreign land waiting to hear how long he will spend in prison.

This was not supposed to happen.

Like Akhtar, Asif announced himself to the country and the world in two balls. Sure, he may have made his debut more than a year beforehand, and he may have been the chief destroyer in the concerned match’s previous innings, but it was on a sleepy afternoon in Karachi that he would show how special his gifts were.

Opposite him stood the slayer of new-ball bowlers, Virender Sehwag – who had scored a 250 only two matches previously. Between them lay a wicket good enough that even Faisal Iqbal got a hundred on it. Asif ran – nay, jogged – in to bowl. Sehwag drew his scimitar, but all he could strike was air. A pitch that had been as pleasant as a meadow suddenly seemed like a minefield. It was the classic good-length outswinger, but in the context of the match it was nothing less than the first crack in the castle’s wall. Asif followed it with a ball that came in with the seam. Sehwag went to play this as he should have played its predecessor; down went the stumps, and up went Asif. Gesticulating and pointing, as if to convince Sehwag and his audience that what he had just done was deliberate, and that it was all intentional. The snake had devoured its victim, and there was nothing he could’ve done to save himself.

Over the next four years, Asif would jump from one controversy to another, stopping in the middle of such journeys to preach in his cathedral. Every worthy opponent that he faced would, at least once, be made into a fool. Sometimes he wouldn’t celebrate wickets that came too easily to him; he would look annoyed if he had taken a wicket which did not follow his plans.

Wherever he went he preached his gospel: fast bowling was not about how strong your shoulder muscle was or how quick you ran in to bowl. One could achieve his goals provided he had the heart for the fight and the brain to outsmart his foe. The fact that he had gelatinous wrists only added to his charm. But before he could have enough converts to be truly appreciated he was gone.

Many years from now, when souls that aren’t born yet will ask our generation about the holy church, we shall tell them of a heretic; this false prophet whose own greed consumed him before he could change the church. And who became the epitome of an age in Pakistan cricket in which the individual was greater than the collective; but it was his unwilling sacrifice that would pave the way for a golden future.

At the crack of dawn, we’ll still have hope.

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Ok, that looks far more corny on screen then in my head. If you would wish to complain please don’t be hesitant to do so; preferably on twitter.

Taken for granted

Tue, 01 Nov 2011 00:19:00 +0800

The Pakistan Hockey Federation proves that cricket isn’t the only sport in the country in which your record is an irrevelence when it’s time to judge your performance

The globalization and the resulting professionalism that it spawned was one of the major factors in changing the face of most sports in the late 1980s and 1990s. Chief amongst these changes was the role of a coach. ‘Coaching’ was no longer the major attribute required to be one. The traits of a coach (or manager or director – I will refer to them by the title ‘coach’ for easier understanding) could be divided into three areas: man management, tactical decision making, and technical coaching. The success of various British teams in the past decade is proof of what happens when this role is used correctly.

In Pakistan, this has not always been the case. Here, the most important aspect, by far, has proven to be man management: both of the superiors and subordinates. Not only does one have to deal with the politics within the national sides, but he has to try and make sense of what the board wants: in Pakistan, success is not guarantee of safety if your bosses feel twitchy or vindictive. Over the past few months the position and authority of the national hockey team coach, Michel van den Heuvel, has been repeatedly questioned and undermined by the federation, despite the success he has brought to the team.

A history lesson first though; between 1956 and 1984 Pakistan participated in seven Olympic Games and reached six finals. Similarly, the national team reached the final of four of the five World Cup finals that had been held till then. Over the next decade Pakistan had its crests and troughs as it tried to adjust to the modernization of the sport. What the following seventeen years have produced is evidence of a failure to succeed in this adjustment.

Between the 1994 World Cup and 2010 Asian games, Pakistan failed to win a single major honor as they went from one domestic coach to another. The only exception to this was the appointment of Roelant Oltmans, who was hired only a year before the 2004 Olympics and asked to turn around the fortunes of the national team. When he failed to do to that (Pakistan finished 5^th, the same as it had in the World cup in 2002), he was sacked by the PHF. Oltmans oversaw an improvement in Pakistan’s ranking; but it was thought by the PHF that an Olympic and World Cup winning coach needed to prove his mettle to them within those twelve months or so, and apparently he failed to do that.

Backed by a media that eyes anyone with white skin with suspicion, Pakistan has had a local coach since Oltmans. Six years of consistent failure from domestic coaches were still considered acceptable as more often than not, they were yes-men of the federation and the selection committee. What finally broke the camel’s back was the historic last place finish in the 2010 WC. Michel van den Heuvel – whose previous role had seen him take the Dutch to a podium position in the 2008 World Cup – was appointed the national team coach; although his control over the team was never defined. A year has passed since then – during which time he brought the country its first major title in sixteen years and the first qualification to the Sultan Azlan Shah Cup final in seven years (where the team were defeated in extra time by the all-conquering Australians). He has followed that up with a loss in the penalty shoot-out in the final of the the inaugural Asian Champions Trophy. By any unit of measurement that is a remarkable turnaround, and the coach would be well within his rights to think he has some leverage. One could see the parallels between his success and that of Joachim Loew. Prior to the FIFA World Cup last year, when it seemed that the contract of Loew would not be renewed, as he was at loggerheads with the board; but a successful tournament meant that he was able to get what he wanted. Not in Pakistan though! How is our federation planning to solve the issues of power? By keeping it all to themselves, of course.

The dispute at the heart of the matter – as is the case in all Pakistani sports – is simple. The selection committee and the federation want all the power over the national teams: in its selections in particular. In this case, it is the inclusion and roles of several senior players. The likes of Sohail Abbas (who finished the Azlan Shah Cup with another Top Scorer gong), Rehan Butt, Salman Akbar, Zeeshan Ashraf and Shakeel Abbasi* (finished the best player of the tournament) are being pushed out by the selection committee for reasons only known to them. The coach, quite rightly, would prefer to have his only world-class players available to him. After all, in the case of a failure he will be blamed. In the absence of four of these five players Pakistan finished runners-up in the recently concluded inaugural Asian Champions Trophy (where the team lost to Japan and failed to beat a struggling Indian side in both of its encounters). This has led to the recall of Sohail and Salman, but Zeeshan and Rehan continue to be ignored. One could accept the PHF’s version of events, but the tone suggests that the quality of the players’ performance is not the chief consideration here.

A system where one party has all the power and the other has all the responsibility is bound to fail – regardless of the talent in the teams. The Dutchman has tried to install a more logical – and universally accepted – system in Pakistan. And our federation is having none of it, perhaps since it may rob them of their salaries. So, it would be easier for everyone if another generation grows up never knowing what being the best in the world feels like.

*In the aftermath of the Asian Champions Trophy, Abbasi has been named as the captain of the side, and Rehan and Zeeshan have been left out, for what seems to be one final time.

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The toughest job in the world

Tue, 11 Oct 2011 22:44:00 +0800

Explaining the need for a foreign coach for the Pakistan cricket team

The recently concluded series between India and England has been nothing short of a coronation for the latter, as they proved the supremacy of their players – and one might argue their system – in world cricket. The credit for the success of the English side is being given to Andy Flower, and rightly so. Since his appointment as the head-coach in 2009, England have won 20 and lost only 4 of the 31 Test matches they have played. By comparison, their previous 30 matches had brought them 8 wins and 10 losses.

This is no anomaly though. The success the British have achieved throughout sports in the past decade has been based on a lone figure that controls the national team – while being backed by a system that provides him with the tools he requires. Clive Woodward, David Brailsford, Charles van Commenee and now Andy Flower have all took British sports to a level that they hadn’t been at for decades. It is with these men as references does one wonder what the modus operandi of the Pakistan’s sports bodies in general, and the PCB in particular, is.

The departure of Waqar Younis has brought out the same old questions to the fore: chief amongst them being whether Pakistan should seek a local coach or a foreign coach. It shows an amazing lack of understanding for the issues at hand to have set this as the primary requirement for applicants for the role. After all, amongst the four names mentioned above who have revolutionized British sports, two were local and two were foreigners. Now that the short-list has been made (and one that includes both locals and foreigners), the committee is being accused of not having a clear vision. But quite frankly, it’s better to have unclear vision but a chance of achieving the target than to be a slave to your xenophobic and nationalistic urges.

The debate we should be having should be about the content of the applicants’ qualities and vision, rather than about the colour of skin. Should we have an old experienced hand – a second coming of Woolmer – and hire somebody like Whatmore? Or should we go the English way and hire a young and hungry ex-star who has some experience of working behind the scenes? Or should it be an experienced but hungry coach; somebody like Peter Moores who is out to prove his detractors wrong? The one common element in all of this, obviously, is that the coach should have at least some experience of coaching itself. Whilst the rest of the world debates the resumes of the applicants, our board – and the media – show a lack of logic and vision in reducing this to a question of nationality.

At the current juncture, a foreigner would seem the rational choice. Pakistan has a pretty short history with foreign coaches: Richard Pybus was a glorified trainer while Geoff Lawson wasn’t the best applicant at the time (that was Whatmore); but was selected because the players had some reservations with Whatmore’s heavy-handed style. The only occasion Pakistan selected a coach based purely on his resume (Woolmer), Pakistan was able to over-achieve for the only time since 1992. [Under Woolmer Pakistan lost 3 out of 10 series it played in. By comparison, from Imran’s retirement till the turn of the century Pakistan lost 11 out of 28 series it participated in (39%) ]. Right now, hardly any coach wants to even come to this country, and that makes the reluctance to consider a foreigner so ridiculous. It’s a bit like a former super-model who still thinks she can pull whomever she wants to; not realizing that men don’t usually go for septegenarians.

There are those that question the effectiveness of a foreign coach. The records of (and the views of the players about) Michel van den Heuvel and Bob Woolmer really ought to put this ridiculous theory that somehow a ‘white-man’ can’t communicate with our jawans, and realize that it’s better t to be a good coach who takes ten minutes to get his message across rather than a poor coach who takes five.

What of the local coaches then, you ask? Well, when Arrigo Sacchi – a man who had never played professional football – was questioned over how he could possibly deserve (or succeed) as AC Milan coach, he famously answered: “I never realized that in order to become a jockey you have to have been a horse first.” As Sacchi became the last man to win back-to-back European Cups whilst creating one of the greatest club sides of all time (all before leading Italy to the World Cup Final), his words seemed to signify to the football media the world over that coaching and playing are two rather different animals altogether.

The problem that Pakistan has right now is that there are far too many horses who believe that they should be made jockeys, without having any reasons to back up their claim (apart from their successes as a horse). A bunch of great ex-players seem to consider it their birth-right that they should be given the national coaching role. Nearly all of the successful coaches there have been in cricket (as in other sports) had proven themselves before – and had the experience to apply it when ti cameto the big-time. Nielsen, Whatmore, Moody, Buchanan and Fletcher had all had success in academies or the domestic game. Waqar and Flower both worked as assistants to experienced coaches themselves before they landed the lead role. Yet, the names that keep getting mentioned in the Pakistani press are of great players who have refused to work in the domestic game or the national academy to complete their apprenticeship. The world over, applicants for a job seek to present – and often embellish – their experience which would relate to the job at hand. The exception to this rule seems to be the role of Pakistan’s national team coach.

One just hopes that PCB has a range of parameters to judge the applicants with, and whoever lands this role gets there on merit; and has a vision to succeed in the medium and long term. For if that is not the case, we will have many an ex-great on our TV screens in a year or two’s time discussing whether Pakistan should have a foreign or a local coach.

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Saeed Anwar: A short history

Wed, 03 Aug 2011 23:14:00 +0800

A compilation of his greatest works

This is the supplemental blog to the one published on Dawn last weekend.

The Slogger

Between 1987 and 1992, Imran Khan set about dismantling his great team from the previous decade and setting up the greatest collection of youngsters since Brian Epstein took a hunch on a few lads from Germany. It was during this time that Saeed Anwar – on back of a tremendous domestic season (800 runs at an average of 89.11) – was given the opportunity in the tri-nation series in Australia. Failures in his three matches there meant that he would be dropped from the team until the next year’s tournament in Australia. This was when he announced his arrival as a batsman of talent. Until then he had had 30s and 40s – at a high strike rate – without getting a big score. After 11 ODIs, he had a highest score of 42, so with him being written off as nothing more than a slogger, he produced the first of his 31 international centuries, as he took the Sri Lankans apart in Adelaide.

Unfortunately, he was unable to build on this success, and continue to be defined as a flashy and flaky player. Four years into his international career, he had only played a single test match (where he had to face Ian Bishop at his peak; which resulted in him having a king pair), and had played 38 ODIs – which had a lot to do with Ramiz and Sohail not being a quick or successful enough opening pair – and had averaged under 30. But what was quite apparent, even then, was his conversion rate (no pun intended). He had only passed fifty five times, yet had been able to make three hundreds.

The Flat-track bully

And then, thankfully for Pakistani cricket, came Sharjah. In the three-nation series against the West Indies and Sri Lanka, he became only the second player in ODI history to score three consecutive hundreds. And from thereon in it was smooth sailing – or as smooth as is possible for a Pakistani player.

Over the next three years, he developed his reputation. Averaging more than 40 in ODIs, and more than 45 in Tests, he became a potent weapon as Pakistan went into the 1996 World Cup, defending their crown. THAT night in Bangalore, with Saeed attacking in his own unique way, but failing to convert, raised many a question. Could he deliver in a pressure situation? Could he score outside of his comfort zone? Why couldn’t he score against India? Basically, was he a flat-track, mentally weak bully or not! Over the next four years, he would answer each and every one of those questions.

The Greatest Opener in the World

Saeed’s first chance for redemption came on Pakistan’s first tour after the World Cup. The team travelled to England, on what were perceived to be the pitches that would be most difficult for him. He ended up finishing as Pakistan’s highest scorer as they won the series 2-0, scoring 362 runs (@ 60.3).

A year later, Anwar was part of the first Pakistan team to travel to India (apart from the Bangalore Quarter Final) for eight years. A depleted Pakistan side (without the two W’s) faced off against the hosts for the right to play the World Champions in the Independence Cup final. Until then, Anwar had played 17 ODIs against the Indians without ever scoring a century. Over the course of three-and-a-half hours he righted that, and many other, wrongs. And with that, another box had been ticked.

Two years later, he would travel to India again and play ,what the blog considers, his greatest innings – and probably one of the greatest innings by any Pakistani batsman. The scorecard alone is a reminder of how grand an innings it was. The context (first match of the Asian test championship – following a tied series; a difficult pitch against a bowler in the form of his life, and with nobody to support him) makes it even more impressive.

The only mountains left for him to climb were the notoriously difficult (for subcontinent batsmen) tours of South Africa and Australia.

He would struggle throughout his career against South Africa, but when, for once, the opportunity presented itself to him, he seized it with both hands – to ensure that he would be able to do something that his contemporaries and successors (namely Inzamam, Yousuf and Younis) were unable to do: score a century in South Africa. (Secondly, for all his struggles against the Protea pacemen, he would still finish with a better average in the Rainbow Nation than the three men mentioned above).

And finally, there was Australia. Pakistani batsmen have always struggled against Australia; not Saeed, though. He would finish his career with an average close to sixty (away avg. of 47), including a fruitless century in the first match of the historic Test Series in 1999/2000.

That Pakistan team may have fallen short of its potential, but that is not something that can (or should) be said of Saeed. A pluderer on dead pitches, a fighter on alive ones - without ever losing his majesty - the man should be considered far greater than he actually is.

Anwar’s legacy has been tarnished by his final two years in cricket; when struggling with form, age and, most importantly, the trauma of his daughter’s death, he was in-and-out of the team. Finally, when he raised his bat to the Centurion crowd – in another match which is remembered for someone else’s heroics – it seemed that the great man might be able to make a comeback. Unfortunately, Aamer Sohail disagreed. Backed by the public, the newly appointed chief selector would end the career of his former opening partner ignominiously in a purge that Pakistan cricket is yet to recover from. Every time the blog sees Imran Farhat attempt a hoick across-the-line, the mind wanders to that ill thought out decision, and wonders what might have been.

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