In the autumn of 2007 the chairman of the Pakistan Cricket Board approached me just before the final Test of the South Africa series and put to me that “we” should consider giving Inzamam-ul-Haq a spot in the batting line-up even though he had stepped down from the national side after the 2007 World Cup controversy, where coach Bob Woolmer was found dead in his hotel room a day after Pakistan’s shocking three-wicket loss to Ireland in the group stage.
The Test match would act as a “testimonial” for Inzamam, one of the nation’s greatest players, and the country would rejoice and the game as a whole would bask in the warmth of endearment. As Pakistan’s new coach, my initial reaction was shock.
On the one hand, “Inzy” hadn’t played any cricket for six months and would be up against a spirited Dale Steyn, which could weaken the team, and the head coach of this national team is judged on results, not sentiment. If we lost, there could be effigies of the coach burning in the alleys and fields of the Punjab.
On the other hand, I am a student of the game’s deep and broad history, traditions that were founded in the 17th century and with Test cricket’s birth in 1877. The social impact of cricket is enormous. Cricket binds tightly the inhabitants and diaspora of south Asian nations; it is a force that competes with the saints and deities of the region, so who am I to deny the people their demigod and the game an unrepeatable moment?
Even if the worshipped Inzamam had taken to a spectator in Toronto in 1997, and withdrawn his team from the field at The Oval in 2006 in the only Test match ever forfeited after being accused of ball tampering, did he deserve his final exit on the big stage?
Had he earned the peoples’ respect and love? The fact that he only needed another 30-odd runs to break Javed Miandad’s all-time Test run record was the icing on the jalebi.
A bumper crowd of 30,000 turned up each day to pay homage to the “Sultan of Multan”. Emotions ran high. I will never forget the guard of honour formed by both teams, or the visceral reaction from the crowd when their hero departed three runs short of the milestone (YouTube his dismissal; it was a doozy). This was a moment that transcended winning and losing.
The sultan was dead, long live the sultan. Win, lose or draw, I could sleep soundly with my decision to acquiesce to the chairman – and we didn’t lose.
Which brings me to the Australian summer, and the burning question: does David Warner deserve a similar reception and conclusion to Inzy?
There are those that don’t believe so, but they use emotional arguments, subjective and prone to scattered interpretation. It has been said that once a professional retires all that is left is the numbers. So here are the numbers.
Warner is a unique cricketer. He ascended the ladder to Test cricket via the once innovative and unheralded 20-over game. He represented Australia in T20 cricket before he made his Sheffield Shield debut for NSW. His ODI debut followed quickly after that T20 game. It took two more years for him to make his Test debut, which came 18 months after his Shield debut.
David Warner during this year’s Ashes.Credit: Reuters
He created his own pathway; one that only he could have followed, let alone envisioned: 109 Tests, 161 ODIs, 99 T20s – 369 total “caps” for Australia; winning world championships and World Cups along the way.
He and the teams he has been a part of have been extraordinarily successful. There is zero doubt that based on the numbers, he deserves whatever accolades are possible. So, why are some fans and fellow professionals so reticent about Warner’s recognition?
Well, perhaps the “manner” in which he conducted himself in the field – what at first sight looked like scant respect for the opposition and the values that cricket likes to espouse. After some genuinely embarrassing (to the fans and ex-players at least) on-field events that were encouraged by “look the other way” board members, complicit high-performance bosses, coaches, players and captains of the era, his periods of reformation looked genuine and well contained.
Then we have the ball-altering affair, from which salvation may have to wait for the afterlife. How long can a punishment last? Mike Atherton, Faf du Plessis, Rahul Dravid, Waqar Younis and Shahid Afridi have all been charged and convicted of DIY ball maintenance – and they have become paragons.
Australians in general are not fond of hubris in our public figures; tall poppies are better appreciated when they perform and celebrate with modesty. Perhaps the style in which Warner announced his retirement date rankled with many who never had the chance to depart on their own terms. All he had to do was annex the pronouncement with “if I’m selected” or “if I’m making runs”, and all would have been well.
The Australian cricket team is not his property or play thing and his form (the numbers) have been declining at Test level for some years. Chief selector George Bailey and captain Pat Cummins have since added the proviso for Warner.
A replacement will have to be found sooner rather than later; there will be no “like for like” player, because none exists. Yet, maybe there is a candidate or two about to have a breakout Big Bash and follow the Warner path?
If Warner’s preferred farewell scenario falls apart against the Pakistan bowlers, then so be it, but some laps on the back of a sports car at the Sydney and Melbourne cricket grounds in front of the applauding fans will still serve the purpose of recognition and homage for a career brilliantly played in the full revealing glare of the spotlight.
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Warner set his own path, does he deserve to go out on his own terms?
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09.12.2023
In the autumn of 2007 the chairman of the Pakistan Cricket Board approached me just before the final Test of the South Africa series and put to me that “we” should consider giving Inzamam-ul-Haq a spot in the batting line-up even though he had stepped down from the national side after the 2007 World Cup controversy, where coach Bob Woolmer was found dead in his hotel room a day after Pakistan’s shocking three-wicket loss to Ireland in the group stage.
The Test match would act as a “testimonial” for Inzamam, one of the nation’s greatest players, and the country would rejoice and the game as a whole would bask in the warmth of endearment. As Pakistan’s new coach, my initial reaction was shock.
On the one hand, “Inzy” hadn’t played any cricket for six months and would be up against a spirited Dale Steyn, which could weaken the team, and the head coach of this national team is judged on results, not sentiment. If we lost, there could be effigies of the coach burning in the alleys and fields of the Punjab.
On the other hand, I am a student of the game’s deep and broad history, traditions that were founded in the 17th century and with Test cricket’s birth in 1877. The social impact of cricket is enormous. Cricket binds tightly the inhabitants and diaspora of south Asian nations; it is a force that competes with the saints and deities of the region, so who am I to deny the people their demigod and the game an unrepeatable........
© The Age
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