The tragic glamorisation of caprice

Rain stopped play in the 46^th over of the Indian innings in Pakistan and India’s supposedly marquee clash at the Men’s Cricket World Cup in Manchester on June 16. Pakistan had just made a mini comeback in the game by picking up a couple of quick wickets and clogging India’s supply of runs. Vijay Shankar, brought in as a replacement for both KL Rahul and Shikhar Dhawan (in different ways) was struggling to time the ball in only his sixth ODI innings. Could India lose momentum (and 20 or so runs) at this crucial junction? Before we could answer this question, the much-dreaded showers forecast for the day arrived, and play was halted temporarily. A bit cruel on Pakistan — surely, the players would have been itching to press on and wrest some initiative back. Instead, it was Virat Kohli who seemed reluctant, almost petulant, to be walking off. The Pakistani team trudged along, heads looping from their shoulders, almost following India’s captain back to the pavilion. Here was Pakistan’s one, fleeting, moment of ascendancy in the first half of the game, but the team’s body language seemed to belie this. They appeared fine, almost relieved to be walking off.

Just as play was about to resume, India’s captain, Virat Kohli, was seen chatting with Shankar, almost definitely discussing the strategy for the overs remaining. Sarfaraz Ahmad, on the other hand, was caught by the cameras yawning behind the stumps. Harshly, the camera did not move to spare Sarfaraz from the embarrassment, and the set of images have since taken a life of its own — spawning vitriol on TV and ridicule on the internet. The yawning itself, while unsightly, is undeserving of the reaction. Plenty of wicket-keepers and slip-fielders have been captured yawning during a game of cricket. Some have perhaps hidden it from the cameras, while others, most notably New Zealand’s Ross Taylor, have not. And who can doubt Taylor’s focus in the slip cordon, given his impeccable catching record?

The set of images more worthy of attention were at the start of the innings. As the opening bowler and batsmen were going through their warm-up strides, Sarfraz was behind the stumps, mumbling a prayer. The camera panned to Sarfraz and quickly moved away, almost with second-hand embarrassment for Pakistan’s captain. The start of the game, Pakistan vs India, was nigh, and while the Indian pavilion and batsmen, and even most of their Pakistani counterparts, attempted to look settled and calm, Sarfaraz was frantically offering a prayer. The camera flashed away, towards the crowd, the fielders, the batsmen, and back to Sarfaraz –perhaps allowing him time to complete his prayers — but it was as if no time had passed. Sarfaraz was still praying nervously. Is that a sight to inspire his team and alert their opponents?

The tag of ‘unpredictable’ has followed Pakistan’s cricket team for decades, with a steep hike over the last few years. Pakistan’s cricket team is not unpredictable. Instead, it is a collection of capricious, diffident, and ill-prepared cricketers that triumphs through the talent of its constituents every so often. These triumphs are idiosyncratic, but the ailments are systematic. And the national team’s ownership of the ‘unpredictable’ tag is as perplexing as it is conducive to the flourishing of the systemic flaws that plague it.

It is one thing for commentators and spectators to classify Pakistan as an unpredictable team. They have no control over how Pakistan performs and comment and judge based on the records in front of them: blown away by the West Indies; buoyant over domineering England. It is thus hard to predict what happens next. But for Pakistan’s captain to own the tag is bizarre and ridiculous. How can one describe oneself as unpredictable, when one is in control of one’s actions? This admission, which has occurred more than once or twice, is accompanied by a full-toothed grin. It is a baffling shirking of responsibility from the team’s leader.

The weather can be unpredictable. The stock market is unpredictable. But a group of ‘elite’, well-paid, and highly-revered athletes should not be unpredictable. And, if they are, they should be ashamed of this tag and work to remove it. Instead, Pakistan’s cricket team embraces it as if they have as little control over it as they do over the sun in the sky or the members of the stock exchange. If Pakistan can turn up and perform well on one day and splatter all over the place the next, it means they are ill-trained and inadequately-equipped for international cricket. It also means that, at some level, these players are moody and only partially interested — picking and choosing days on which they perform well. The dramatic ebbs and flows in performance levels are causes for concern and anger, not celebration and glamor — not while cricket players glean the sums and adulation that they currently do.

Sarfraz Ahmad did not mention his side’s unpredictability in the post-match interview and press conference — thankfully. He did, however, offer a confusing summary of the game: ‘bowling ki line or length nahi achi thi or batting mein chaar out ho gaye middle mein’. This is the kind of summary a spectator ought to provide; it is an account of what happened, not why it happened. Why didn’t his bowlers bowl the right lines and lengths? And why didn’t his batsmen guard the innings from the collapse that ensued once Babar Azam was bowled by a magical delivery that spun and drifted? Both the poor bowling and batting were present, almost identically, in the previous game against Australia — so why didn’t they improve? Why is Sarfaraz describing facets of the game as if he had no influence on them?

If, over the course of the next four games, Pakistan somehow manage a string on consecutive wins, kudos to them. To me, it would symbolise the capricious nature of Pakistan’s cricket team and make the games against India and Australia even more frustrating in hindsight. It would mean that Pakistan had the ability, as they showed against England, but not the will. Sarfaraz seems to shirk from responsibility over his team’s, and his own, performances. He should strive to improve his team in the areas that he — and 220 million Pakistanis — identified. Instead, he seems to be banking on his team’s ‘unpredictability’ to shine through. The tragic acceptance of this tag is a symptom of a larger, deeper problem: there is no acceptance of control or responsibility.

Published in The Express Tribune, June 18^th, 2019.

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