The internet has shattered the comforting notion of individuality. That cult film you’ve been telling your best mates to watch? It’s got 14,000 followers on Twitter. That organic, gluten-free, Fairtrade, vegan pale ale you love? Father John Misty’s just posted a selfie of him supping it. We are, as Dan Ashcroft put it in Nathan Barley, oblivious to the paradox of our uniform individuality.
In the manic, try-hard modern world, it is the man who stands still who finds himself in space. Misbah-ul-Haq never wanted to stand out, yet by staying true to himself he has become the accidental hero of Pakistan and world cricket. The word ‘unique’ feels inadequate to describe him. And his mystique is such that, even if you wanted to copy him, you couldn’t.
By leading Pakistan to the top of the Test rankings for the first time, after taking over with their cricket at rock bottom, he has cemented the legend of Ol’ Man Misbah. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, some have greatness thrust upon them – and some stumble upon it at the age of 42 after doing 10 press-ups. He is not quite a great batsman, but he now sits at the top table of Test captains with people like Richie Benaud, Mike Brearley, Sir Frank Worrell and Imran Khan.
Pakistan’s 2-2 draw in England, in the best series in this country since the 2005 Ashes, was an outrageous result for a relatively limited team who had not played a Test outside Asia since 2013. They have also played no ‘home’ Tests under Misbah, a far greater handicap than most realise. Even more notable is the manner in which they have gone to No1 – playing controlled, atypically Pakistan cricket, and after a Test series in England so harmonious that it verged on schmaltzy.
England’s meetings with Pakistan usually come with a cast-iron guarantee of controversy, yet Pakistan was so charming that only the most miserably one-eyed patriot begrudged them their draw. The dignity of Misbah, his determination to right previous wrongs and to give hope and pride to a country devastated by terrorism, almost brings a lump to the throat.
This is not just a story of a good man doing good things. Misbah has an indefinable cool that makes him one of the most interesting figures in the modern sport. It is apt that it took Pakistan six years to reach No1 because Misbah is the king of deferred gratification. (This column, in the spirit of its subject, comes to you almost a week after Pakistan went to the top) He believes in patience, discipline and logic, always logic. He plays international cricket with a resting heartbeat, no matter how extreme the highs and lows. At Lord’s, he made a wonderful first-innings hundred; in the second innings, he was out the second ball for nought trying to hit Moeen Ali into the crowd. “If you have a favourite shot, you have to play it,” he said afterwards. “This is how you score a hundred and this is how you sometimes score zero.”
He would make a great poker player; Misbah has a level of inscrutability that hints tantalisingly at an all-knowing wisdom. That makes it hard to get a handle on him, even now. What exactly does he do that makes him such a good captain? He has a voice a bit like the boring priest in Father Ted and does not believe in ostentatious rhetoric, yet he has an obtuse charisma, is a superb man-manager and has a wit so deadpan that half the time you genuinely don’t know if he is joking or not. His team would crawl to the ends of the earth for him – and stop to give him 10 press-ups along the way.
His response to drawing the series and becoming world No1 could barely have been more Misbah: he went to Norway for a ‘Play for Peace’ charity match and biffed a century in 34 balls. Where do you start with that? But then Misbah has always done things differently. In a country where players are blooded young – 20 years ago in October Hasan Raza made his Test debut at the official age of 14 – Misbah took the long road.
His family prioritised his education, and it was not until after his Master’s degree that he made his first-class debut at 24. He did not become a Pakistan regular until he was 33 and his international career was apparently over when, in 2010, at the age of 36 he was recalled to the team as captain. Misbah was the last, last, last resort for a country in disarray. In the previous 18 months, there had been a theterrorist attack on the Sri Lanka team in Pakistan, the spot-fixing scandal in England and other allegations of match-fixing.
Misbah has only recently become a national treasure. He was made a scapegoat for his batting in defeats to India in the World T20 final of 2007 and the World Cup semi-final of 2011, and for a long time was the subject of vicious criticism over his cautious captaincy. He had the complete courage of his convictions, a particularly admirable quality in a world where independent thought is increasingly endangered. Others can shout their opinions. Misbah doesn’t need to. Misbah knows.
He has won over almost everybody now. After sorting out Pakistan cricket, Misbah should turn his attention elsewhere: the Brexit fallout, perhaps, or the X Factor’s plummeting ratings. Who wouldn’t stay home on a Saturday night to match Misbah mentor a 37-year-old teacher from Grimsby with a dream and a half-decent falsetto?
With his antiquated values of dignity, modesty and patience, Misbah has shown that sometimes it’s good to be behind the times and given hope to those who believe there is an alternative way of doing things – not just in Test cricket, but in life. Kipling’s ‘If’ could have been written about him. So could parts of old Paul Robeson song: Ol’ Man Misbah: he must know sumpin’ but he doesn’t say nothing’, he just keeps on rolling along.
COURTESY: THE GUARDIAN
