The next crisis in cricket

The cricket web sites are yet to latch on to it, but one of the news channels in India had this staggering revelation: Shahid Afridi has claimed that he has not performed well with the bat recently because someone has been using black magic and casting bad luck spells at him.

It is a real tragedy that the game should be denied its due by such travesties. The success of the game attracts too many envious elements – bodyline, Packer, ball tampering, match-fixing, Lalit Modi and now, black magic. We need to cleanse the game of these. Then, Shahid Afridi will be the Don Bradman he is in terms of potential. And Pakistan will be Australia. Oh well, does that suggest a conspiracy theory? No, I’m not saying anything.

Misbah’s captaincy credentials

Pakistan’s captaincy challenge ahead of the Bangalore test has offered enough juice for former Pakistan players to offer their considered opinions. In the true spirit of the unity that characterizes Pakistani cricket, there are as many opinions as there are opiners (a word I just made up). So Younis Khan has a backer (even if he doesn’t want one); so does Mohammed Yousuf; and Shoaib Akhtar, Salman Butt, Kamran Akmal and Misbah-ul-Haq. (Danish Kaneria is apparently miffed that his name has not been mentioned so far – so searches are on for a former cricketer who is ready to recommend Kaneria’s case. Interested candidates may please apply to the nearest media house.)

The most original of all the recommendations must be from Rameez Raja, who is pushing for Misbah’s candidature. According to a report in The Times of India, Rameez thinks that Misbah is the man for the job because of his “form and his educational qualifications.” (Misbah, apparently, like Rameez himself, is an MBA.)

The future of cricket has been well and definitely ushered: the captain has to be an MBA, the wicket-keeper will need to be a financial controller, the openers will need to be operations managers (handling dull but important tasks), the spinners will be the creative sorts, and the fast bowlers, well, I suppose they’ll be the sales types – low on predictability, high on returns when they hit it right. The corporatisation of cricket is well and truly upon us.

The Mushtaq and Mushtaq Show

Watching Mushtaq Ahmed and Saqlain Mushtaq bowl in tandem for Sussex against Kent in the second semi-final of the Twenty20 Cup yesterday evoked a feeling of what might have been had the selection policy in Pakistan cricket been a bit more, er, logical.

Sure the Mushtaqs ended up on the losing side, but during the period of eight overs when they bowled through their quota, there was only one team playing cricket in the middle. Ahmed started with an expensive over and Saqlain ended with one, but the six overs that separated these two were just plain outstanding. Not a single boundary was scored (remember this is Twenty20, not good old test cricket), why, not a single genuine stroke was played. It was a miracle that the Mushtaqs grabbed only one wicket each. May be the Kent batsmen were not good enough to get out to them.

You may argue that Robert Key is no Kevin Pietersen. He most certainly is not, but don’t forget that Key is an English international of recent vintage, has played 15 test matches and has a test double hundred against his name. You may argue that Martin van Jaarsveld is no Graeme Smith. He most certainly is not, but don’t forget that Martin played for South Africa not too long ago. And you can’t argue against the fact that this was Cup semi-final night and that the game was played in right earnest.

Apart from their bowling actions and the fact that one turns the ball into the right hander (as his stock delivery) and the other turns it away from the right hander, the similarities between Ahmed and Saqlain yesterday were amazing. Bushy salt-and-pepper beards proclaiming their religious fervour, supreme confidence in every step, impish smiles after forcing the batsman into a false stroke (which was about 36 times in six overs, give or take the odd defensive shot) and, coincidentally, absolutely identical figures – 4-0-21-1. (To complete a day of spinning coincidences, that other magician Mutthiah Muralitharan had delivered exactly the same returns for Lancashire against Gloucestershire in the first semi-final, also in a losing cause.)

The other noticeable aspect of this passage of play was the way the Kent players approached the Mushtaqs. They had just two shots for them – the sweep and the reverse-sweep. Sure Graham Gooch did the orthodox one famously in the World Cup semi-final in 1987, but so did Mike Gatting, infamously, with the unorthodox one in the final of the same Cup. Surely the MCC coaching manual allows more shots to the turning ball?

On a different note, it is quite heartening that a team can bowl six absolutely unplayable overs in a Twenty20 game and still lose the match. That’s 30 per cent of the innings and 15 per cent of the game. It suggests that the Twenty20 is not such a slam bang game after all – there can be quiet passages of play in a winning cause as well. Ah, the possibilities are tantalising. Thanks – Mushtaq and Mushtaq.

What makes a fast bowler (or a story)

First thing is the run-up. Then the pace of the kid. Then whether they have a cricket brain. Then the fitness. Then how hungry he is. With good fast bowlers you spot these qualities within a few overs.

This is what Wasim Akram said when he was in a fast bowling camp in Pakistan. An eclectic combination of attributes, spanning physique, attitude and technique.

Ignoring the mixing of the singular and the plural in the statements, is this really what you would look for in good fast bowlers? And can you really find these in a few overs?

Or do we lap these high-sounding statements just because they come from one of the game’s greats? Does greatness in one aspect permit an exaltation of the mediocre in another?

Mistake me not, I rate Akram as the two (the other being Shane Warne) most creative bowlers of the last 30 years. But does that mean he can spot a future Akram when he sees one? Even his own run-up was not particularly classical or optimized. And while he was fast, pace was not the reason he was what he was.

To be fair to the man, Akram himself admits, “It's my first time coaching, officially or unofficially.” My grouse is really against the thrust of the story. The title is promising – Pace lessons - past meets future. That, to me, is really the key story element. The fact that Akram, Aaqib Javed, Shoaib Akhtar (is he past or present or future?) and Mohammed Asif were rubbing shoulders with the potential stars of the future would have been sufficient inspiration for the bright-eyed lads. So why would Osman Samiuddin not drive with that? Or do stories get readership only if they are led by stars (past, present or future)?