Pakistan’s pain at their self-inflicted wounds
26 March 2016
OUR VOICES
Shahid Afridi is loved more in India than in Pakistan. So the man himself said a fortnight ago, triggering great uproar in Pakistan.
As he walked out to bat against Australia in Mohali, greeted by ebullient cheering, Afridi would have found no reason to revisit his view. Outside the IS Bindra Stadium before the game, a coterie of Indians were draped in Pakistan colours, with the words Boom Boom written in white paint on their foreheads. For two decades as an international cricketer, Afridi has been a batsman of unique impetuosity whose appeal has far transcended Pakistan. Afridi had said he would retire after the tournament; unless Pakistan won, this game would be his last.
But, once more, he arrived at the crease with Pakistan far too dependent upon him. They needed 109 from 57 balls to defeat Australia. Partly, this onerous task was a reflection of Pakistan’s limitations with the ball and in top-order batting: unfortunate, yes, but players cannot be criticised for a lack of talent. What they can be berated for is a lack of application, and this was most galling: the sense of Pakistan’s problems being self-inflicted.
In limited-overs cricket, sides can rise above their deficiencies with bat and ball through dynamism in the field. Bob Simpson’s Australian team first proved as much in the late 1980s. Similarly, the Zimbabwe side who came fifth in the 1999 World Cup, the New Zealand side who reached number two in the ODI world rankings in the mid-2000s, and the Ireland side in the 2011 World Cup all performed above themselves thanks to zealous fielding.
But instead of concealing their weaknesses with the ball, Pakistan’s fielding exacerbates them. When they were bowling to Australia, a tally was kept of how many runs Pakistan gave away that New Zealand, the tournament’s preeminent fielding side, would have expected to stop. The figure was 22: one more than Pakistan’s ultimate margin of defeat.
Over the whole tournament, Pakistan’s fielding has been 44 runs worse than that of New Zealand, according to the ICC's official data analytics. Given the margins of Pakistan’s defeats – 22 runs against New Zealand; 21 against Australia – frailties in the field were crippling.
Waqar Younis, Pakistan’s coach, embraced as much. "I think the difference between the teams is very obvious and clear," he said. "We are not the best fielding side in the tournament.
"We need to think hard. The selectors need to look at that too. When you pick someone you have to look at the fielding aspect of his game. We have to look at youngsters."
The malaise in Pakistan’s fielding seemed to extend into other aspects of their performance. Their running between the wickets, another aspect that teams can overcome weaknesses with the bat and ball, was lethargic, perhaps costing another ten runs compared to Australia.
Whatever else has gone wrong with Pakistani performances, fast bowling has traditionally remained immune to the difficulties. The one truth that Pakistan cricket still holds, Osman Samiuddin writes in his magisterial The Unquiet Ones: A History of Pakistan Cricket, is “your batsmen may be jokers and your fielders clowns, and your captain can be any and everyone, but your fast bowlers are diamonds and forever responsible for glory”.
Alas, t'was not the case on this occasion. Mohammad Sami, who had justified his surprise selection with fine performances against India and New Zealand, was plundered for 53 runs in four overs, including three wides. The malaise extended to the normally immaculate Mohammad Amir, too while Wahab Riaz’s first encounter with the Australian batting line-up since his terrific spell in the World Cup quarter-final was underwhelming.
On one occasion Steve Smith strolled across his stumps, leaving all three completely exposed, and Riaz responded with a wide full toss that implored Smith to flick it to the legside boundary.
The upshot was that Australia reached 193-4, a score that always felt beyond Pakistan’s capabilities, failing an Afridi innings for the ages.
It never seemed likely to come: there is a good reason why Afridi has a T20I average south of 20. This innings was Afridi in excelsis: two awesome sixes that brimmed with swagger, including one pelted down the ground after a couple of steps forward against Adam Zampa.
Envisaging a repeat next ball, Afridi was deceived by a wider delivery. He missed; Peter Nevill did not. And so Afridi was dismissed for a seven-ball 14.
If this really was to be it – and Afridi has made retirement into an art form, so no one can really know – few farewells have better distilled the essence of a batsman: Boom Boom too rapidly giving way to bust. And where Afridi has led this tournament, so his team have followed.
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