Game Changer
By Mowahid Hussain Shah

Cricket has been a game changer in Pakistan. Just seven years after independence, Fazal Mahmood spearheaded Pakistan to a remarkable win over, arguably, England’s mightiest team of the 20th century at the Oval, London, and brought distinct recognition to a brand-new nation. What Pakistan accomplished on its first-ever visit to England took India 40 years to do so.
I was privileged to be present at the Oval on Pakistan Day, August 14, 2016, when Younis Khan’s magical double century precipitated England’s defeat, which propelled Pakistan to number 1 on international Test rankings.
Pakistan cricket itself has produced game-changing players, and few more impactful than the Pathan from the Frontier, Shahid Afridi.
During my stint in the Punjab Cabinet, I was invited to witness the first Test match between Pakistan and India at Chandigarh, during March 2005. Afridi was omitted from that match. At an evening reception there, I had a brief conversation with him. I vividly recall his verve, bubbling with passion and confidence, and itching to lock horns with India: “Let me just get a chance, and I will show them.” And show them he did. In the series-deciding final Test at Bangalore, he hit a blockbusting 50 and took 3 vital wickets to spark an Indian collapse. At Kanpur, and then in Delhi, while opening the innings in one-dayers, his brutal assault stunned the home team and they crumbled to defeat.
Afridi’s fan-following in India eclipsed all other players. His good looks and aggression made him a prima donna, evoking predictable insecurity and jealousy amongst his teammates and management.
Now Afridi’s autobiography, “Game Changer,” has kicked up a storm of controversy all across Pakistan. Afridi documents the insidious culture of venality and avarice, which has eroded Pakistan cricket while also taking some of his seniors to the cleaners. Critics have assailed Afridi for being too vocal but without offering evidence whether the language of silence has worked in the past.
Cricket is a microcosm of the larger self-sabotage pervasive in society. He was a captain of the Pakistan team during its ill-fated 2010 tour of England. He quit in disgust midway, having uncovered that some of his teammates were involved in fixing shenanigans. He took the matter to the coach and manager and was dismayed by their lackadaisical response.
He was in the Pakistan squad, too, during the 1999 World Cup in England, wherein the team lost controversially to Bangladesh. Afridi had his suspicions there and then.
Significantly, Afridi’s book reconfirms how the invasive tentacles of politicking – deeply embedded in the domain of cricket – have now metastasized. Society at large is already numbed and habituated to the routine murder of merit, the planting of favorites, and the suborning of decision-making.
In terms of sheer cricketing performance, has Afridi walked the talk? The bottom-line fact is, despite all his foibles and frustrating failures over a 20-year career, his freakish flair for the game – admired by the virtuoso coach, the late Bob Woolmer – enabled him to almost single-handedly deliver the 2009 T20 World Cup to Pakistan at Lord’s – a feat which, thus far, has eluded Australia and South Africa. In the 2019 World Cup, Pakistan would need more of that zeal, passion, and will to win.