On a new pitch, softly

It was all enough to crave for a swift presidential promulgation, hereby ordaining all cricket and cricket-related activities to be ceased with immediate effect. Yet, what else is there in this nation if not cricket, politics and cricket’s politics? Hockey dies anew each year, only to keep people vaguely interested, it does so spectacularly. (“Lost to China? No worries, we’ll lose to Japan this time.”) Squash is less sport, more memory, a glory long gone. (“Isn’t that a drink?” I heard a child say recently). Cricket survives because nothing else did.

True, at the peak of chaos, during the World Cup, people were disgusted, but even then, it was of a kind that held them: really, after a point, even we couldn’t wait to see how much lower we could go. Another dawn of another new era was met with the enthusiasm reserved for habitually failed, recovering alcoholics, or chain smokers who give up until the next smoke.

Shoaib Malik, preppy, young, canny, athletic but not entirely embedded in Pakistan’s Test side, was made captain. Salman Butt, the opener who hadn’t played in a year, came back and did so as vice-captain, new selectors arrived, new central contracts and, of course, a new coach. Inzamam is in the process of being eased out, Mohammad Yousuf was temporarily sidelined, Abdul Razzaq banished, religion nudged back, in with the new(ish), out with the old(ish). Six months later, as Malik led his side to the final of the Twenty20 World Cup, a good, solid tale of redemption (and little beats that kind of yarn) surpassed only by that of their conquerors, the question emerges: is Pakistan cricket feeling good again?

It is and it isn’t. For a start they lost the final, which doesn’t do much for feel-good. Losing to India does even less. To do so by five runs takes the biscuit and as great a game of cricket as it was, it was a little greater for those who won. Sreesanth hadn’t yet caught the ball and already one channel was asking viewers to decide, whether Younis, Afridi or both should be shunted out.

Misbah-ul-Haq, whose selection was criticised, became Misbah-ul-but, as in, “He was outstanding but…” The real Butt, Salman? Best not mention him. Malik, who did so much to get his side there, led well but for that final cross-batted swipe… and wait till he leads a Test side.

After the year just gone, a final against Norway in the ICC’s new Scandinavian Cup would’ve been reason enough for excitement perhaps, and yet here was Pakistan, celebrating and berating equally. Make no mistake: a dashing run to the final, the emergence of new and old players, a daring captain and a new coach, were all celebrated and duly acknowledged, especially against the country’s troubled current backdrop. We just didn’t do it blindly.

We’re quick to recognise and tut-tut India’s unhealthy deification of its players but that is, in part, because we know how utterly human, how flawed, our players are. They have fixed matches, tampered with balls, schemed and manipulated; they fight each other, they conspire, they are power hungry, they use drugs, they politick, they make mistakes. Some are just plain crazy. Even Imran Khan, the greatest to have lived, was seen by many to be parochial, arrogant and dictatorial.

Not having a behemoth for a media industry, and a shrill one at that, probably helps, but expectations are naturally more guarded, eroded by years of the tamasha cricket has provided. Even had Pakistan won, the reactions were unlikely to have been as loud as they were in India, cynicism, more than cricket, is a religion.

But still, cricket remains and subsequently so too does hope. An opportunity is waiting to be grabbed: a new captain, a new coach, some new faces, and talent is always there. But we’ve been here before. Is this a brave new world? Perhaps it is, but if not, another will come along.

The writer is Pakistan editor, Cricinfo