Champions Trophy 2017: Memories of a Pakistan fan
Pakistan losses aren’t as annoying or painful anymore. I say that but those two games still linger in the memory. In case you’re wondering, I’m talking about the 2007 World T20 final loss and the 2011 World Cup semi-final loss, I’m a relatively young fan who started watching properly in 2003. Coming into this years Champions Trophy I like many fans didn’t have high hopes for the team. Nor was I really “hyped” for the competition. Attending the Bangladesh-India warm up game stoked my excitement slightly for the coming Pakistan-India game but my expectations were at an all time low, so much so that I didn’t even bother to pull out of my club cricket match on Sunday to watch the game.
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Anyhow, the day of the game arrived and me and my family sat down together to watch the game. Within a few moments of Mohammed Amir bowling his first delivery, a nicely angled delivery which Rohit Sharma tentatively poked at like baby Giraffe taking its first steps, my anticipation began to build again like years gone by. Maybe I should have pulled out of my game. Those thoughts quickly disappeared with the next over. Misfields occurred, a defensive opening partner in Imad Wasim was chosen and resignation quickly reared its head again. India cantered to 136-1 and off I went to play some Cricket. While scoring during my teams innings I decided to pull up the game on my mobile. Catches were being dropped, Yuvraj was stroking big shots to the boundary as if he was batting with a bat the weight of a toothpick. No balls were bowled. Perhaps the shot of the innings came against one of Pakistan’s brightest prospects, Hassan Ali, an inside out cover drive for six in which the power seemed to emanate from Kholi’s wrists. The promising spark had been reduced to a battered ember during the course of this innings. Then came the killer blow, the final over the innings in which three sixes were hit. India had reached 319-3 off their allocated 48 overs. Pakistan resembled Frank Bruno after the Tyson rematch.
I managed to get home in time for Pakistan’s innings. My own team had been bowled out for 81 batting first so it was a bad day on two fronts for me. I came to the glum faces of my father and brother. They didn’t have much to say which wasn’t surprising. PakPassion duly informed me of all the wrongs and mistakes I had missed. Wickets fell from one end, another bright prospect Babar Azam slapped one straight to Jadeja. Azhar Ali fought to a valiant half century. Pakistan’s haphazard day was perhaps epitomised by Shoaib Malik’s dismissal. Pakistan would reach 164 all out. The gulf in the sides were evident and there was little hope for the coming games.
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The day of Pakistan-South Africa arrived. There was a positive straight away, Fakhar Zaman a hard hitting opener from the PSL had been selected. Pakistan bowled first once again but there was a new intensity that wasn’t present against India. This time Imad Wasim came on and got the big wicket of Amla second ball. Imad can always be used as more of a wicket taker against non-subcontinent sides. Then Hafeez does what Hafeez does. He got the left hander out LBW and De Kock was gone. Would you believe it? Another one! It’s de Villiers first ball. His first golden duck in ODIs. Things are swinging Pakistan’s way but by no means was the game over. Then came for me the moment of the tournament for Pakistan. The Shahid Afridi catch against New Zealand in the 2009 World T20 moment. Hassan Ali around the wicket to Duminy gets one to move away beautifully, reminiscent of the Flintoff to Gilchrist deliveries in 2005, and knicks to slip. Pakistan hold a slip catch. Then comes the real explosion. Around the wicket again, to Wayne Parnell, Hassan Ali gets one to pitch on a length just outside off, its tailing in, tailing in, then at the last minute the ball changes its mind straightens and swerves in the other direction. Wayne Parnell is playing down the Victoria Line but the ball is on the Central Line. The top of off stump is pegged back. I sit up straight because of what I’ve just seen. Pakistan’s bowlers are turning it on. Pakistani bowlers bowling in rhythm will always give the side of a chance. Pakistan restrict South Africa to 219-8 but can the batsmen finish the job I wondered?
In came Fakhar Zaman. A clear uncluttered mind. If the ball is there to hit its going. Gaps in the offside field where found like Sourav Ganguly, the latter was one of the best at piercing the off. He would eventually fall for a bright and breezy 31 but the hope had been installed. A new hope. Despite a bit of stuttering Malik and Babar would ensure that Pakistan remained ahead of the DLS requirement. The rain came and off the players went. I had wanted Pakistan to finish off the chase “properly,” but I won’t lie that as I went out to join my friends for Iftar a part of me was slightly relived when the game was called off and Pakistan won on DLS. We had just beaten the number one side in the world, now only Sri Lanka stood in the way of a semi-final berth.
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By the time of the Sri Lanka match the game had increased in magnitude to a virtual quarter-final. The Sri Lankans could not be underestimated especially after their magnificent chase against India. The Sri Lankan batsmen were playing fearless Cricket. They justified these fears as they strolled to 82-1. But then that spark would come again. The tournament changer you could call him. Hasan Ali, bowled a sumptuous balled that nipped back in sharply against the inform Mendis and left his stumps shattered. For a moment it was like watching the great Pakistan fast bowlers of yesteryear. Most specifically Mohammed Asif. The ever so talented Mohammed Asif. The bowler they said could have been greater than Glenn McGrath. The bowler who personified the supposedly saddest thing in life according to Robert De Niro, a wasted talent. Yet here I was watching a bowler doing the exact same thing Mohammed Asif could do. Now by no means am I saying Hasan Ali is better than Mohammed Asif but what I am saying is in that one delivery he represented everything that was truly great about Asif, the movement, the bite, the panache and the exuberant celebration. Then came a truly satisfying moment. Mohammed Amir getting the wicket of Angelo Matthews. You could see the relief in Amir’s celebration. The wicket of Dickwella was a special moment too, a special catch by Sarfraz. The wicket taking capabilities of Amir and Junaid portrayed the Pakistani bowling attack as the reverse swinging Tigers they were. The cornered Tigers had come together like a pride of Lions and restricted the exuberant Sri Lankans to 236.
As Pakistan went out to bat, I turned to my brother and remarked surely Pakistan can’t lose this in hope of reassurance. He nonchalantly said Pakistan would knock off the runs easily. Fakhar Zaman would support these hopes as he found the offside fence three times in an over against Malinga. He was becoming a sharpshooter with his drives and cuts. By the time he got out for a wonderful 50 Pakistan were 74-1. No reason to panic. Such was the mood at home that I didn’t pay as much attention to the next few overs and browsed PakPassion and CricInfo. Then it happened. The oh so familiar story. The Pakistani collapse. Babar, Hafeez, Azhar, Malik, Imad all gone quicker than East Asian states falling to Communism during the Cold War. Eisenhower’s “Domino Theory” had manifested, though not in the manner or context he had envisioned. 74-1, 137-6 and then 162-7. Yet my brother still maintained Pakistan would win, “they’re gonna win man Insha’Allah,” is what he kept repeating with the confidence of someone who knew a secret no one else did. 43 runs to win and Sarfraz hits one straight to mid-on. For all my money I thought it was gone, in that split moment I thought oh no its over. Then Michael Slater screamed and the ball trickled to the floor. A dolly by international standards. I could certainly emphathise with Perera as I had dropped an even easier catch a month or so ago. It’s the worst feeling in Cricket. But one mans misfortune is another countries gain. Perhaps this was the actual turning point of the tournament for Pakistan rather than the symbolism of Hasan Ali against South Africa. Sarfraz would offer yet another chance, this one much more difficult, but a chance nonetheless. Edge of the seat stuff. Getting to the semi-final seemed to become even more of an allusive joy. Then boundaries came more easily. Mohammed Amir particularly showed mettle offering a chance less innings amongst the chaos. Then elation as Sarfraz genuinely uppercuts the ball to the boundary sending Pakistan into the semis. Pakistan had punched well above their weight to get this far. I never said so aloud, but this felt like 2009 all over again.
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Then came the semi-final against England. Again the general consensus was that England should win handily. The night before the game I received a WhatsApp message from one of my friends asking if I wanted to go and see the game as he had a ticket available. I had to decide whether to go University or go watch the game. I think you know which I chose. As we drove to Cardiff the first news we had was that Mohammed Amir was out. A big blow. By the time we got to the ground England were 119 for 2 and doing well but hadn’t got away. The ground itself was dominated by Pakistani fans and the atmosphere was amazing. Morgan would fall to that man again, Hasan Ali. From there it was all Pakistan. You could feel the buzz, excitement, expectation and sniff of a wicket throughout the ground. Osman Samiuddin has previously written an article about Pakistan cricket and its connection with the haal, a supposed state of ecstasy in Sufi folklore in which everything seems to happen in a rhythmical natural trance like motion. This period of Pakistan in the field resembled Samiuddin’s sentiments as direct hits occurred, fielders flew like a planes to take running catches and the bowlers completely befuddled the batsmen. This was Pakistan cricket in its zone. A zone and mood not reached everyday. This was a special Pakistani performance in which the cornered Tigers encouraged by the ecstasy they found themselves in, surrounded and pounced on the English reducing them to 211.
The feeling at half time in the ground was one of subdued excitement. We all knew about Pakistan and its collapses. But a better start could not have been asked for. Zaman flayed his bat like a Zorro the sword master pulling through midwicket violently with disdain treating the English fast bowlers like spinners. Azhar Ali just the man you want when chasing a middle to low target. While Zaman swished and swashed from one end Azhar played much more traditionally. A crisp back foot check through point, a punchy straight drive, a beautifully placed square drive and a text book pull shot were among some of Azhar’s many highs. A great opening partnership. In came Babar and Hafeez. Babar played a textbook cover drive. Hafeez was Hafeez. Sublime boundaries through the covers and a couple of sixes to boot. He then finished it with a crunching pull through square leg. Euphoria flowed throughout the ground and Dil Dil Pakistan blared for everyone to hear. Pakistan batted like kings of the jungle and devoured their prey disdainfully and clinically. Against all the odds Pakistan had reached the final. India awaited. I jokingly congratulated my Indian friends, keeping the feelings of 2009 close to my chest.
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Then came the big day. Our Sunday team had forfeited our match to watch the final. Pakistan batted first. I was dismayed. My father reassured me with the age old saying runs on the board in a final. Zaman’s out. Could this get any worse? The player we had relied on all tournament to counter attack had been dealt with with a tranquiliser. Then as if a he was a performer given the go ahead for an encore Zaman returned courtesy a no ball. And did Zaman make India pay with the encore. This time it was the spinners, Jadeja and Ashwin, who were swept aside quiet literally. One shot in particular where Zaman charged and Ashwin threw it out wide only for Zaman to go through with the shot and swipe it straight down the ground as if he was whipping debris off of the pitch stays in the mind. Zaman went on to make a century full of such audacious, magnificent and adrenaline fueled shots. One of the best innings you’ll see in a final. The contribution of Azhar in taking the initial pressure can not be forgotten either. Hafeez would come in at number five and first ball pumped Jadeja back down the ground for four. The cornered tigers were no longer cornered. They were well and truly the hunters. Hafeez went on to play one of the most clutch innings he has played. He took the Indian bowlers apart with such ease, his bat like a wand purchased from Olivander’s in Diagon Alley. Pakistan had reached 338, you couldn’t have asked for more.
Then came one of the best bowling spells I’ve seen. Mohammed Amir’s first ball angled across Sharma and the latter once again repeated the new born Giraffe maneuver. Second ball angles away again. Then it happens. The inducker raps Sharma on the pads and jubilation. Everyone is on their feet at home. Amir’s first ball to Kholi is a peach, coming in and a play and a miss. Then a series of events occurs which I have, and possibly many others have, replayed countless times over the last week. Amir bowled just the right ball for Kholi, fourth stump line angling across and a big edge to Azhar at slip. Everyone rises in anticipation. Then the dismay and anguish is shown. The ugly head of Pakistani Cricket has reared its head again, dropped catches. I stand, hands on my head walking in a circle pondering if that was the one chance. Amir runs in again and bowls a ball the same line but this time a touch fuller and Kholi goes for one of his flicks. If ever a flick shot was bread and butter, meat and drink to a batsmen it was to Kholi. Flicks are second nature to him. But this time the angle and slight movement pushes the ball further away from the middle of the bat and towards the leading edge. The ball is flying and it flies to point, Shadab Khan, who catches it and is flying. The whole of Pakistan and Pakistan fans everywhere are flying. Just as Zaman flew against England, Pakistan are flying again. Never have I celebrated more for a wicket in my life. My voice was partially gone. The range of emotions felt in those two balls sums up the beauty of Pakistan Cricket. One minute down one minute up as Nasser Hussain said on air. You couldn’t ask for better drama. Amir then followed this up with a brilliant cross seamer against Dhawan who undone by the extra bounce and knicked off to Sarfraz. 33-3 and Pakistan are more than flying, they are soaring. That man again, Hasan Ali, destroyed any real hope of a rearguard from India by getting Dhoni with a ball that got to big on him too quickly, Dhoni resembled an old Larry Holmes trying to avoid Mike Tyson’s hooks. Despite some lusty blows from Pandya, Pakistan wrapped things up with ease to complete a decisive victory. Never have I had a bigger smile on my face while watching Cricket.
A brilliant team performance. One of the great cricketing comebacks. After all the bad press the Pakistan team received after the first game against India, I’m sure the team could resonate with Kevin Keegan’s famous words, “I will love it if we beat them, love it”. Judging by the well deserved celebrations it seems we all loved it and in the process some of the wounds of the past have been healed.
