With Pakistan’s winless, nine-match tour of Australia being among the very worst in cricketing history, it’s perhaps not surprising that the fur would fly in the long post-mortem. What is surprising is that the aftermath of the tour has been worse than what actually transpired on the pitch.
Sample this: Intikhab Alam, the beaming, great-uncle-ish coach who’s done little else than give genial interviews and stay out of the way during his stint, has slammed his former charges as “mentally retarded” as soon as he’s out of the picture. Harsh, but less so when you consider what else has been said during the inquiry.
Aaqib Javed, the victimized ’90s brigadier and renowned coach who lived, let us not forget, at the height of match-fixing and can’t have paranoia ruled out of the picture, airs his suspicions that Kamran Akmal’s abysmal keeping less than accidental. This seems, in truth, rather unlikely. Maybe I’m missing something, but any bookie who approached as erratic a keeper as Kamran would need his head checking as much as Inti’s troupe of retards. Mind, Intikhab also adds, tantalizingly but not particularly convincingly, that he’s “heard” stories about matchfixing. That’s right, heard.
I’ve heard stories about witches on broomsticks and firebreathing dragons, too, but I sometimes suspect that they may not be true. The trouble with Pakistan and its cricket following in general, unfortunately, is that we hang on to the merest whiff of scandal with hideous glee. Truth is, only South Africa have done as much to clean up the sport of match-fixing as Pakistan, but rather than stamp out the practice this has given license to a grotesque, almost criminal cynicism. Have Pakistan lost? Ah, there must have been some match-fixing done. Forget about innocent till proven guilty, who doesn’t love a juicy tale of sold souls? Personally, from a disturbing episode, I find the gay abandon with which match-fixing has been chucked into the equation the saddest reflection of all.
There are close contenders, though. Match-fixing or not, it’s certainly possible for a player to punch below his weight if he feels unhappy with his captain. And that is precisely what Rana Naved has blithely admitted to doing. I found this mildly shocking, partly because I may have been biased based on a five-year-old impression. On their last tour of Australia, where Pakistan managed to put up a doughty late resistance in the one-day leg, Rana Naved-ul-Hasan and Younus Khan both lost a family member each, only to soldier on. How many times have we heard the words “big heart” associated with Naved? And yet, this casual admission–perhaps to gain some sort of sympathy, who knows?–seems to signify that more has changed about Naved than just his previously gleaming scalp.
No talk of dissent is complete, of course, without Shoaib Malik. The accusations against him, though somewhat sketchy, have been the most pointed and consistent. I find Malik’s story perhaps saddest of the lot. There was a time, circa 2004-2006, when he was perhaps the team’s stablest allrounder, easily shifting places in the order to play versatile roles and mix in some handy off-breaks with some un-Pakistani athleticism in the field. Ask India, against whom Malik was particularly efficient in this timeframe. And yet, since the captaincy was thrust upon him in 2007, the situation seems to have dipped rapidly for Malik. He has become unpopular, accused of shiftiness and politics. His animosity with Mohammad Yousuf is well-documented, and the fact that nobody has bothered to defend him indicates that there may be truth in the accusations.
Which brings us to that weathered old soldier. Yousuf’s finesse with the bat, and general (if clumsier) sincerity for the team, has been proven as much by his agitated captaincy down in Australia as by his feats with the willow. His main problem, apart from a slightly puristic viewpoint that continually bemoans the Test ineptitude of his counterparts, appears to be Malik; it’s curious that the pair seem unable to stand each other except with bats in hand. How they shared 206 against India recently without taking the odd swipe at each other is remarkable.
Other names have been thrown, some a bit fecklessly, into the mix. There’s Misbah-ul-Haq, who doesn’t appear to have done anything wrong other than overstayed his welcome in the team. But Intikhab, happy-go-lucky old soul that he is, has suggested throwing him out on grounds that very well may not exist. There’s Mohammad Aamer, who apparently had a go of the teenage hormones, preening before the ladies before dropping a 209-run-worth catch. Less funny than it may sound. There’s Umar Akmal, who in a shocking display of unprofessionalism and petulance faked an injury to blackmail the team management into playing his butter-gloved brother. There’s Shahid Afridi, the current big man on campus, whom everybody wants on their side but who is toeing the line with more discretion than he has ever displayed with the bat. It’s ironic that Afridi, who was blasted on the very same tour for the most obvious case of villainy, has suddenly become the voice of sanity. But that’s Pakistan cricket for you.
As for Younus, Intikhab said that he has his “own problems”. What exactly those might be is open to question, and by now it should be clear that the jolly old ex-coach is not exactly particular about his credibility. But Younus does have problems, and appears to be more sinned against than any of the others. It’s a shocker that any person with the slightest sense of decency would take an oath on the Quran to oust their leader–not a glorious revolution, mind, but because they happened not to like his captaincy.
It’s hard not to feel for Younus. The results during his stint may have been a bit on-off–look at the Tests in Sri Lanka for proof–but he has hardly put a foot wrong and has had the worst of it. Poor form aside, what did he do? Years ago, when he politely refused the dubious honour of Pakistan, he was accused, ridiculously, of ingratitude, of apparently not appreciating the honour. The team in Sri Lanka last summer had a cheerful unity, a promise of progress, about it–or so it seemed. Apparently a few players didn’t fancy Younus style of leadership–arrogantly termed “arrogant” by people who should know better–and so one of Pakistan’s best batsmen finds himself indefinitely banned.
They say the team is a microcosm of Pakistani bureaucracy, which is a sad truth if this sort of factionalism and squabbling. One thing is sure, the personnel handing out the punishments appear not to be best-qualified for the job. Mr. Ijaz Butt’s tenure has spectacularly managed to worsen Pakistan cricket even beyond its inglorious predecessors. Perhaps Mudassar Nazar is right–only a madman would want to involve himself in managing this circus.
