From clogs to clogs in three generations is how I would synopsize Pakistan’s cricket. The blots on the landscape are aplenty, but one that draws me into writing today is particularly telling. Pakistan has lacked a mechanically flawless, the chin-up type opening batsman since Saeed Anwar retreated into retirement well over a decade ago. If, by the account of Simon Hughes, genuine pace bowling is the Rolls Royce of cricket with all its dazzling grace and the occasional jaw-dropping miles per hour, then to me, an opening batsman must be the Volkswagen of the game. The enduring, adhesive, weather-braving and the earn your corn type; one that is endowed with the workhorse ability. Pakistan is sorely in need of an eager beaver opening batsman — a pair if I must sound urgent.
The prelude to the present recession lasted a little over two decades. From the late 1970s till the early 2000s, we saw some of the finest, almost hypnotising cricket developing in Pakistan. An old chestnut though it may be, Pakistan produced a spate of ingeniously gifted opening batsmen during those years. Blessed with all the right ingredients: the furtive footwork, the tentative prodding while negotiating with a beaming red cherry and the undisguised will to bat on and pace an innings. Although there were plenty of babes in the woods, few names rapidly spring to mind.
The Trailblaser honour goes to Majid Khan. I will let the armchair critics of cricket do their pointless tattling over my choice, but Majid, contrary to his passable records, was a class apart. This debonair looking, Ludhiana-born Pashtun, was the epitome of textbook perfection. On his day, he could even decimate the Michael Holdings, the Malcolm Marshals and the more abrasive Jeff Thompsons with aplomb. One blast forms the past yields a helmet-less Majid, coming out to bat in his spotlessly clean whites — his best bib and tucker. Armed with a new ball was the West Indian Colin Croft — the lanky owner of broad shoulders, intent on bowling as fast as he could. Croft came in gliding, ramming full-length deliveries, hoping to rip through Majid’s occasionally woozy defences. But Majid was rapid, as cool as a cucumber and amidst the hollering ‘You can get him Crofty’, of the nagging fieldsmen, dispatched five full-length follies through the covers without a fielder shaking a leg.
Supplementing the surreal stroke play of Majid, was the left-handed new ball negotiator, Sadiq Mohammad. Sadiq’s heroics went down like a bomb. While Majid was the eye-catching aggressor, Sadiq was a fighter, the innings maker and often batted long enough to ensure Pakistan posted a challenging total. The selectors hardly flustered as the supply of first rate top order players never ceased. After Majid, there was Mohsin Khan, another big-hearted, immaculate timer of a cricket ball.
Pakistan’s top order legacy, however, came to a summit with the emergence of the left-handed Saeed Anwar. The run reaping machine and often dubbed as Pakistan’s reply to the West Indian Brian Charles Lara, Anwar was a phenomenon. A maniac with the bat, and a destroyer of lousy bowling. Once in, Anwar was skilled enough to snatch the game from the jaws of defeat. Sighting Anwar in full beam would require a Shakespearean vocabulary to capture him in prose. With his ungrammatical high back lift that often came down with a thud from the second slip; he devastated the best of bowling attacks on the planet. Anwar’s chief hunting partner was the animated Aamir Sohail, equally, if not more, aggressive. Together, they produced Pakistan’s best victory deserving opening stands on the international canvas.
Sadly, the dry run of Pakistan’s cricket in this department lingers on. There have been plentiful attempts to excavate Anwar style Kohinoors, but none of the newcomers had any fire in their bellies. Salman Butt nevertheless, showed little glimpses, but his premature money-making urge robbed him of what could have been an illustrious career by now. A complete dearth of international cricket at home could be one reason. Playing in front of packed home crowds would have been a great spirit booster. A vast majority of the present crop of opening batsmen have begun their run netting abroad. And, as Azhar Ali once told me: ‘It’s not very easy BJ.’ I hope the Pakistan Super League (PSL) restores some of that lost confidence, putting a seal in the bobbing and weaving of our opening batsmen, and frees them to play their strokes without fear. To cut the cackle short, it’s time we produce a crowd pulling opening batsman, endowed with daring loins, and the appetite for batting long, as without a well shielded top order, our middle order will never hold the stage.
The writer is an alumnus of the University of Cambridge and an economist. He has also played for Pakistan’s Junior cricket team