A tribute to the Little Master

Hanif Muhammad belonged to a time where reputations were built over the course of careers

I spent the past few days combing through the news looking at how the media paid tribute to Hanif Muhammad, Pakistan’s cricketing legend, on his death. With a career as extraordinary as his, the coverage given to him has been ordinary, at best. Or maybe I feel that way because him and I both belong to a different era. It was the time when cricket was a gentleman’s game, when records were made with blood, sweat and tears, and the Little Master has many to his name. I have a memory of watching a very young Hanif arriving for a practice session at Jahangir Park with his kit strapped to the back of his bicycle, in scorching heat. At a time when cricket brought a man little more than the pleasure of playing it, his passion for the game was unparalleled. When Pakistan gained official Test status, the team went to tour India, for 12 first class and five Test matches. The Little Master scored a century in each innings of the first-ever international first class match that Pakistan played. Even in his debut international match, at 17, Hanif was fearless and had a touch of class.

His record of a 970-minute long innings against West Indies in Bridgetown in 1957-58 is proof that the man had nerves of steel. He is also one of the handful of men to score a century in each innings of a Test match. This was against England, at Bangabandhu National Stadium, Dhaka, in 1962. A lot of people believe that the man had natural skill and talent, yet Hanif often gave credit to Master Abdul Aziz, his sports teacher at Sindh Madressatul Islam for encouraging him and initially honing his skills. Later when he was sent with Pakistan Eaglets to train at Alf Gover’s cricket academy, the master himself declared that Hanif had nothing to learn there. He claimed that the young student already had all the skills required for a glorious career in batting.

Both Hanif and I were young boys with a passion for cricket. There were days when I skipped school to go watch him play, and I’m glad that I did. They were afternoons well-spent, one young man watching another create history. Sadly, one of my life’s greatest regrets is that I never met him in person. Had that come to pass, I’m sure I would not have been able to say much in the presence of the man that fuelled my love for the game. And yet I wish I could have thanked him, for all he gave me. In this regard, I am sure I’m not alone, many men like me learnt what cricketing class looked like by watching the Little Master play.

In this day and age, a lot comes too easily. Especially in a sport like cricket, where one big score, one century, one hattrick, one good match is enough to earn a man a spot in the news headlines. Hanif, however, belonged to a time where reputations were built over the course of careers. Where one match wasn’t enough. It had to be a lifetime’s worth of achievements to get you into the hall of fame. It doesn’t matter how much coverage he was given, he is and forever shall be a cricketing legend – untouched by time, never forgotten.

Published in The Express Tribune, August 24^th, 2016.

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