A tale of two cricketers

Shahid Afridi and Misbah-ul-Haq

Born on 1 Mar 1980 to the late Peer of Bhutan Sharif, Sahibzada Mohammad Shahid Khan Afridi is the most famous export of the Khyber Agency, in mass popularity easily surpassing heroin and other indigenous drugs. Although he has lived in Karachi practically all his life, he is equally loved across the country. Born on 28 May 1974 in Mianwali, Misbah-ul-Haq Niazi is a cultivated, gentleman of a cricketer who has managed to make a name for himself by sheer determination. He has an MBA in Human Resource Management – rare qualification for a Pakistani sportsman.

Misbah and Afridi are a study in contrasts – they couldn’t have been more different from each other. The two have been the face of Pakistan cricket through the last decade; and with a few exceptions, it so happens that, if you like Misbah, you are unlikely to be Afridi’s greatest fan, and vice versa. It’s like Messi and Ronaldo; Dave and Jay; Imran and Nawaz. With the curtain set to fall on both careers very soon, here’s a summary yet dispassionate (I hope) comparison of the two:

Afridi is a legend, an icon, a superstar. But a great cricketer he definitely is not – for precisely the same reason that one is not a prime number; there are many prime numbers, but there is only one ‘one’. Also, greatness comes in degrees. To be well above average in one’s class is to be great. What if you happen to be the sole member of your class? In that case you are unique – you are Afridi. Some people wonder why Misbah is not a superstar, while Afridi is. Well you either are, or you aren’t – that’s about all that can be said about this.

Misbah was a late bloomer. He made his international debut in his late twenties, but it was after his first comeback at age 33 that he got noticed. In 2010 he made his second comeback, and has been part of at least one format ever since. Afridi, on the other hand, made his debut when he was 16, and notwithstanding several retirements across formats (some retracted) and many comebacks, he is still playing the shortest version. His superstardom is as old as his cricket career itself – 20 years. If nothing else, Afridi has shown amazing longevity.

If you like unpredictability, you’d love Afridi. Can anybody else dare to bite on a cricket ball with 28 cameras rolling? How about announcing retirement one match after a famous comeback? How about fearlessly standing toe to toe with a bullying PCB Chief, putting his very career on the line? If, on the other hand, stability is your thing – if you like hard ground under your feet at all times – thoughtful, careful Misbah is your man. Afridi is eloquent, has a keen (sometimes mean) sense of humour, and doesn’t suffer fools gladly. From Afridi, one expects – and often gets – anything. Misbah is very ‘safe’ when it comes to press conferences. He is always balanced, courteous, and politically correct; you can never expect a gaffe or an insult from him.

Misbah is much fitter than his 41 years might suggest; in fact despite being 5 years older than Afridi, fitness wise, he is at par, if not better. Afridi has never proved to be captaincy material; Misbah, on the other hand, has more Test wins than any other Pakistani captain.

If there’s one perennial criticism of Afridi, it is that he clicks too infrequently. A simple calculation tells me that in LOIs he gives a man-of-the-match award-winning performance every 11.6 innings. The critics fail to realize that since there are eleven players in a cricket team, provided all had contributed as much, Pakistan would have lost only a handful of matches Afridi was part of. About Misbah it has been said that his LOI averages don’t truly reflect his dearth of match winning ability. I find this assessment to be valid.

Some people, who refer to Misbah as Mr. Reliable, claim that Afridi is unreliable. These are the same people who switch off the TV when Afridi gets out, and not a moment earlier. Perhaps the subconscious expectations from the two are not identical. I have a suspicion that while Misbah is expected to merely stay at the wicket, Afridi is expected to win the match. Or perhaps these critics are actually Afridi’s huge closet fans, disappointed in his failure more than the professing ones, and venting their frustration by lambasting him. Only the other day I was part of a crowd at a public screening. The moment Afridi got run-out, I felt I’d had enough, and left the makeshift theatre. Once outside, I looked back, only to see 40% of the crowd leaving!

You can analyze Misbah’s game, which knows its limitations and adapts well; if there is a method to Afridi’s madness however, nobody has yet unearthed it. Misbah provides a case study of maximizing potential through hard work; Afridi is an original, who retains the same innocence he brought to the field all those years ago.

Afridi has only one gear: the top one; Misbah has two: the first and the fifth. Afridi the batsman is, at best, a hit-or-miss option, but he is a bowling all-rounder, who bowls decent – sometimes brilliant – wrist spin. Misbah doesn’t bowl, but what he lacks in this department, he more than makes up for by unleashing the wide range of his stroke play: add to his usual first-gear repertoire the tuk, the reverse sweep, the bye and the leg bye, and he becomes a formidable batsman to bowl to. Among all contemporary players, he plays with perhaps the straightest of bats.

Temperamentally, Misbah is miles ahead of Afridi. His unflappability, which is sure to put the most self-respecting cadaver to shame, ensures that scoreboard pressure is something alien to him. Afridi is very prone to the pressure of the asking rate. To his credit, Misbah can play the T20 game, the ODI game and the Test game with equal ease – only he sometimes has a problem recalling exactly which format it is at a particular time. As opposed to Tests, in LOIs, Misbah would ensure ‘honourable’ defeats – despite showing an initial spark, his contribution is nothing to write home about; Afridi in a messy situation would typically shoot for the stars – successfully (sometimes) – or succumb trying (mostly).

Afridi is the quintessential showman – his celebratory pose says it all. Misbah is much quieter; ever the gentleman, if anything, he diverts attention away from himself. Some people are of the view that Misbah is our answer to Rahul Dravid. It’s very difficult to think of the question to which Afridi is the answer.