Thursday morning. India are playing for pride, simply delaying the moment of defeat. Shoaib Akhtar streams in for the first ball of a new over. Yesterday he emphasized the unbelievable possibilities by breaching the 160 km barrier. Now, having already got Virender Sehwag a little twitchy by getting the ball to climb on him, he bowls wide. Sehwag does what he been doing since Multan. He spies a loose delivery and flashes aggressively. But the ball nips in, taking the edge and flying off to the keeper.It brings Irfan Pathan to the crease. The contest is uneven, Shoaib is expected to trouble India’s sweetsmiled hero. But he digs deeper. He produces such an express bouncer, he catches Pathan glove with such severity that even Rahul Dravid’s spine would have been tingling. Pathan survives.Shoaib repeats himself. Pathan survives again. Regulars at Rome’s Colosseum would have rubbed their hands in glee at much less menace.After a relatively innocuous teaser, Shoaib walks his paces way beyond the sponsors’ logo. He chugs in again, his line is now deadly straight, the ball traces Pathan’s full height, it grazes the handle of his bat. The-19-year old has played his last part at Lahore.Self-preservation is a low priority with the Rawalpindi Express. He thrives on excess and elan. In an age when fast bowlers are becoming sport’s most endangered species, Shoaib’s craft defies logic. When pacers are hemming their run-ups, he almost kicks off the sight-screen, his pace making you wonder why he did not become a sprinter.Those who run the 100 metres do so at full tilt only occasionally. Shoaib ran through his paces more than 200 times in the past three and a half days. In between he cooled his heels by tearing down the corridors of Gaddafi Stadium, hailing acquaintances and working up plenty of good cheer.Cricket needs its heroes. It also needs its characters. In Shoaib the two collide in an unstable equilibrium. The enfant terrible of subcontinental cricket, let it not be overlooked, is one of its greatest draws. His rants, his accent, his jewellery, his bad boy hairstyle — all this keeps the viewer interested.Cricket at its most engrossing is drama. In Shoaib the plot is fleshed out. Others swing from form to slump and back, their figures tell their stories. Shoaib’s ups and downs are colourful episodes. They combine a maverick’s shenanigans with a subplot of the frailties a genius must constantly contend with. They are the stuff of banal comedy and enthralling tragedy.Today, with the tail’s demise certain, more sensible men would have held their energies in reserve for bigger contests. Yet, by elevating his cricket, he raised the spectacle. Clumsy defence by the tail was transformed into an art form. Pathan had no cause to be apologetic. Shoaib gave us every reason to dream larger dreams for fast bowling.
