COLOMBO:
There were tears in his eyes — this is no exaggeration, there really were tears. At the R. Premadasa Stadium after the match, when I moved forward to console the boy in the green shirt, his friends or cousins — whoever they were — reached him before I could.
“Oh, are you crying? Haha, when will you grow up? We lost, so what? Stop crying.”
He glared at them angrily and said, “I’m not crying; something just got in my eye.”
Then he said, “Come on, let’s go to the hotel,” and they walked off.
But I knew — that night, many Pakistanis who loved their country had tears in their eyes. Some would have made the same excuse — that something went into their eyes — to avoid mockery. Others might have refused to let their tears fall, afraid of what people would say. Women can cry freely, but men do not have that liberty.
Cricket fans can tolerate anything — but not a loss to India.
Even while I was in Sri Lanka, I got calls from Pakistan: “We had such high hopes, but it’s disappointing. You journalists never criticize the PCB. You glorify small things and only put pressure on players.”
I said, “Maybe you’re right — but do you know why?”
We are such strange people that even when cooking up imaginary dreams, we don’t think about whether they can ever come true.
This is the same team that lost to India three times in the Asia Cup, that struggled to beat the Netherlands — and yet we thought the Indian side would just hand us the victory on a plate.
Before the match, here’s what happened: A former star said, “This time our team looks strong. We’ll win.”
Another said, “We’re used to Sri Lankan conditions; the Indians have just arrived, they don’t know the pitches. We’ll win.”
A third said, “Our spinners are outstanding. We’ll win.”
A fourth said, “That’s how it is — we’ll win.”
A fifth said, “That’s the way — we’ll win.”
On TV, the anchor asked me, “Saleem sahib, what do you think?”
I said, “the team looks great. We’ll win.”
Ask any other media person — they said the same thing: We’ll win.
But in our hearts, we knew — how could we win?
We have spinners — but so do India.
Our pacers are out of form — theirs are in form.
Our batting is struggling — theirs is crushing every opponent.
So how were we supposed to win?
Would we win with Faheem Ashraf’s sixes or Saim Ayub’s no-look shots?
We have perhaps the strangest team in the world.
Of our two pacers, one — Faheem — is not even trusted by the team management to bowl.
Yes, he occasionally hits a six or two.
The other, Shaheen Afridi, has lost form and needs rest.
Saim is expected to bat aggressively but ends up taking wickets.
Babar Azam’s era seems over — how long will we keep playing him in hope of big scores? It would be better if he at least retires from T20s.
Sahibzada Farhan was expected to perform well but failed.
Salman Ali Agha, after becoming captain, started asserting authority and, like previous captains, grabbed his preferred batting position — fine, but then at least make runs!
Someone said brilliantly about Usman Khan: “He scored a few runs only because India hadn’t done homework on him.”
If a player keeps getting out for zero, why would any opponent fear him?
He had a great chance to become a hero — and he blew it.
Our all-rounders are such that they must feel shy seeing their names next to the term “all-rounder.”
They don’t seem to know whether to bat or bowl — and some fail at both.
All-rounders were Imran Khan, Wasim Akram, Shahid Afridi, Abdul Razzaq, and Azhar Mahmood — men who actually won matches for Pakistan.
In Colombo, even Sri Lankans were supporting Pakistan.
I spoke in Urdu to a man in a green shirt, but he replied, “I’m Bangladeshi, please speak English; I don’t know much Urdu.”
The Pakistani flag he was waving was bigger than what many of us hoist at home on Independence Day.
Fans had come from London, Dubai, even America — but their support did not help.
The players were so nervous that they could barely bat.
They should be thankful the team at least reached 100 runs.
Is Sahibzada lacking talent? Is Saim not capable? Is Babar completely finished? Is Salman useless?
Not at all. But something happens when they face India — their hands and feet tremble.
The team’s sports psychologists couldn’t help; perhaps when they return home, he himself will need counseling sessions.
Now it’s come to this — even the U.S. is ahead of us on the points table!
Yes, I remember — the U.S. beat us in the last World Cup too.
Now we’ll have to pray to beat Namibia.
I have to watch social media — it’s part of my job — but the Indians have unleashed such a storm of mockery that it’s unbearable.
Of course, they have the chance — we keep losing.
Our army defeated them in war, shot down their Dassault Rafale jets, and our name resounds across the world — yet in cricket, we achieve nothing.
If only we could find a strong captain — fearless, someone who could look any opponent in the eye.
If only we could find brave players in cricket, like our Air Force pilots — who can strike and conquer.
Until that happens, we can do nothing.
We keep conducting “operations” — dropping Player A, picking Player B — and after the next defeat, bringing A back and dropping B.
Even the fans think the same way: they love whoever is dropped, then demand his comeback, and once he returns, they want him dropped again.
But tell me honestly — which Don Bradman, Malcolm Marshall, or Shane Warne do we have sitting out of the squad?
I’m writing this while sitting on the flight — the rest, God willing, in the next column.
