Dubai: Miracles will never cease. Shahid Afridi's age has finally been listed at 31 years and 8 days (updated as of today)! There was a time when Pakistan's mercurial all-rounder and captain refused to grow a day older — he was stuck on 19 for almost 20 years.
Cricket's version of Peter Pan first served notice at 16 years and 217 days in a game (yes, Afridi was 16 once) against then world champions Sri Lanka at Nairobi in 1996. The teenager tore out of the dressing room, armed with Waqar Younis' bat in that all too familiar swagger of his to smoke the leather out of the ball and record the fastest ODI century in 37 deliveries.
That was 15 years ago. The cricketing pundits nodded sagely and concluded that there would possibly never be another like him. It has since been a sequence of mixed performances for Afridi. While his Pakistani fans — he holds iconic status amongst his Pathan brethren — have given him the nickname of ‘Boom Boom' the purists believe that he is a bits and pieces cricketer — always a threat, but with a fuse that fizzles out before the explosion.
It is a criticism that Afridi has shrugged off with his usual nonchalance —coupled with an unrefined confidence in his abilities. Viv Richards had a similar air of indifference but he was a virtuoso, whereas Afridi has the propensity to self-destruct at the thought of realising his own potential. Irrespective of whether he actually performs, the Pakistan captain seldom gives the impression that he is short on motivation. Afridi has always subscribed to the motto of ‘Go big, or go home'.
Glimmer of hope
There are many versions to the Afridi story in Pakistan cricket. Young cricketers want to be like him. Rival coaches were mesmerised by his jaw-dropping talent, national coaches have often wondered if he would ever find the key to consistency and the faithful rave about his big heart when he is playing for Pakistan. In truth, it has always been a case of so near and yet so far for him.
In his defence, things have changed imperceptibly today. As far as the context of the Pakistan cricket team is concerned Afridi is the irresistible and refreshing talking point. His attitude and performances always seem to signal that hope is around the corner. If he forgets how to bat, then he remembers how to bowl and vice versa, but there is always the notion that he wants to make a difference.
A team ripped apart by infighting, bad management, fragile egos, constant switching of captains and the lingering suspicion that someone could fall prey to corruption can seldom hope to get its act together, but with Afridi's straightforward presence at the helm there seems to be a glimmer of hope. The man is transparent — whether he's batting, bowling, fielding, or even talking — at the very least he expects his teammates to take a leaf out of his simple but effective manual.
This sincere attitude is standing Pakistan in good stead in the World Cup. A team of uber talented cricketers, who unfortunately cannot put a finger on when they might shine or slump, they are making quiet but effective progress.
Shades of Imran Khan's squad in 1992? A lot of the brags can be credited to Afridi's attitude, tempered by the quiet maturity of Misbah-ul Haq and coupled with the wisdom of coach Waqar Younis. In the end however, it all boils down to the performances on the field and that honour belongs to Afridi. It is possible that a triumphal chapter has been opened in his career and Pakistan's fortunes in this World Cup could be linked to that. In the 1992 World Cup a similar miracle occurred for Pakistan when a young boy named Inzamam-ul-Haq strode across Australia like a colossus.
Quantum leap
The Afridi story is simply about cricket and the cricketer. There is nothing else to him. Playing against Canada, Pakistan was staring at a possible humiliating defeat. Then came the celebration of skill — a quantum leap by Afridi's standards — a five-wicket haul that had the batsmen clutching at straws. There was a sumptuous display of traditional leg-breaks; two kinds of googlies — a traditional one and a faster variation and the opposition was bemused and deliberating at the end of what could have been a historic victory. Sri Lanka and Kenya were also left in contemplation as Afridi went about collecting wickets as a suitable compensation for his inability to score runs.
There is plenty of evidence to suggest that this World Cup could be the perfect climax to Afridi's patchy career. Somehow, one gets the feeling that something huge is about to happen for this team. The more they prevail the higher the stakes rise. The more the fans believe, the more cynics say it's a con. The timer has been set and the clock is ticking.
Irrespective of whether they win the title, the current lot of Pakistani cricketers have shown character by picking themselves up in the face of adversity. In this context, it is impossible to miss Afridi as he attempts to put his squad on the right track.
Should Pakistan win this tournament it would be the most perfect, romantic, sporting tale ever to be told, exorcising the ghosts of Salman Butt, Mohammad Amir and Mohammad Asif. There is, however, time for that yet.
This could also be a story about the transformation of a rash cricketer who grew up to be a man, a leader and a champion for his country. Let us look at Afridi simply: not as a leg-spinner who can bat, or a batsman who can bowl, but as an inspiration.
