The PSL should not be about Pakistan vs India
The fact that you have Kevin Pietersen donning a Quetta jersey, Pakistan seems to have come a long way with the PSL
The writer is former sports in charge and currently the business editor at The Express Tribune
This is not meant to be a referendum on Pakistan versus India — isolated comparisons are meant to calm egos and appeal to an inner sense of superiority, especially in this case. But by virtue of sharing history, and now borders, both neighbours inevitably fall into a trap — a bottomless pit from where one can see the origin of the argument, but never its end. It only results in heads being filled with hatred, leaving little room for things that actually matter. The Pakistan Super League (PSL) and the Indian version should not be compared, period. Both are fulfilling contrasting purposes and are important in their own right. A comparison is not only unjustified, but a mindless cry to show off a misplaced sense of patriotism. For what it’s worth, Pakistanis are just not as crazy as Indians are — about cricket — but they are starved of entertainment.
The PSL provided just that, and much, much more. In a country where people are divided on how to deal with terrorism, ethnic differences, privatisation, even on paying taxes, the PSL was going to be a breather — a refreshing change where names like Quetta and Peshawar would make the headlines for reasons other than being victims to underdevelopment and bomb blasts. Does this mean that the nation forget this pain? No. It just means we join them in their moment of triumph, celebrate the achievements and enjoy an inter-city rivalry we desperately need to replace the existing one — where progress and development in one area sparks outrage in another. It has been refreshingly satisfying to see the cities compete for an actual trophy, rather than being exploited by political parties to promote an already overstretched divide. The PSL also served as a much-needed break from the mind-numbingly idiotic and so-called ‘entertainment’ that Pakistanis are usually subjected to on television — where the strategy isn’t to provide value, but to get you hooked. They invariably succeed because everyone does the same thing, leaving little room for imagination or choice.
Credit needs to be given where it’s due and the PSL deserves almost all of it. So what if Najam Sethi placed the entire burden of bringing international cricket back to Pakistan on a league that had barely kicked off? He can be forgiven since his comments were fruits of desperation, which have only increased since 2009. Critics also tend to point towards the location and financial burden it took to stage the PSL, with little return as fingers then move to empty stadiums. But the fact that you have Kevin Pietersen donning a Quetta jersey — who would’ve thought such a development was possible after colonialism or the end of it — Pakistan seems to have come a long way. We take pride, not only because reputed players have featured in the PSL, but because they have our city names thumped across their chests, representing a side of the country the media often forgets and ignores. Not a lot of Pakistanis travelled to the UAE this time, but the regret is being felt. The next PSL will see a lot more green passports rush to the embassy — this is a conclusion drawn after carefully observing behaviour. For now, the expats can have the fun, but competition to the ticket booth is going to get slightly more fierce next time.
People can say the PSL did not achieve much, but it wasn’t supposed to achieve much. It was a symbol of Pakistan’s ability to stay in the game, especially after being knocked down and cornered. It was meant to provide a modicum of entertainment and much-needed competitiveness among the different cities. The final will be staged today, and we know that for those few hours we will forget all things that bring us down as a nation. We will enjoy cricket for all that its worth — the sport’s wonderful unpredictability and ability to unite.
Published in The Express Tribune, February 23rd, 2016.
The PSL provided just that, and much, much more. In a country where people are divided on how to deal with terrorism, ethnic differences, privatisation, even on paying taxes, the PSL was going to be a breather — a refreshing change where names like Quetta and Peshawar would make the headlines for reasons other than being victims to underdevelopment and bomb blasts. Does this mean that the nation forget this pain? No. It just means we join them in their moment of triumph, celebrate the achievements and enjoy an inter-city rivalry we desperately need to replace the existing one — where progress and development in one area sparks outrage in another. It has been refreshingly satisfying to see the cities compete for an actual trophy, rather than being exploited by political parties to promote an already overstretched divide. The PSL also served as a much-needed break from the mind-numbingly idiotic and so-called ‘entertainment’ that Pakistanis are usually subjected to on television — where the strategy isn’t to provide value, but to get you hooked. They invariably succeed because everyone does the same thing, leaving little room for imagination or choice.
Credit needs to be given where it’s due and the PSL deserves almost all of it. So what if Najam Sethi placed the entire burden of bringing international cricket back to Pakistan on a league that had barely kicked off? He can be forgiven since his comments were fruits of desperation, which have only increased since 2009. Critics also tend to point towards the location and financial burden it took to stage the PSL, with little return as fingers then move to empty stadiums. But the fact that you have Kevin Pietersen donning a Quetta jersey — who would’ve thought such a development was possible after colonialism or the end of it — Pakistan seems to have come a long way. We take pride, not only because reputed players have featured in the PSL, but because they have our city names thumped across their chests, representing a side of the country the media often forgets and ignores. Not a lot of Pakistanis travelled to the UAE this time, but the regret is being felt. The next PSL will see a lot more green passports rush to the embassy — this is a conclusion drawn after carefully observing behaviour. For now, the expats can have the fun, but competition to the ticket booth is going to get slightly more fierce next time.
People can say the PSL did not achieve much, but it wasn’t supposed to achieve much. It was a symbol of Pakistan’s ability to stay in the game, especially after being knocked down and cornered. It was meant to provide a modicum of entertainment and much-needed competitiveness among the different cities. The final will be staged today, and we know that for those few hours we will forget all things that bring us down as a nation. We will enjoy cricket for all that its worth — the sport’s wonderful unpredictability and ability to unite.
Published in The Express Tribune, February 23rd, 2016.