Square Pegs & Round Holes

JUNE 2003 - Is there a parallel between what has been happening in Okara, Cricket, Hockey and Squash or is it just a figment of one’s imagination? The first is a disputed tract of land, which the Rangers hold on the strength of a weak argument but more than amply compensated by sheer physical power. The other three are national games where once we were the undisputed champions and in cricket, a side to be reckoned with. Bad often but absolutely brilliant on good days. With various arms of the Defence Forces running these national games, all that has emerged over the last three years, has been nothing but a blooming disaster. The generals and air marshals who lord it over these sports, obviously have the kiss of death issued as standard fare. What else can explain the unmitigated disaster that has struck these institutions, which before the brass pulverized into a mass of quivering jelly, were forces that drew wild and spontaneous applause all over the world? Now of course, we are the butt of all the jokes.

Consider our latest disaster, the titanic tour of the hockey squad in Australia. They have the special distinction of losing 3-0 to Australia, a trouncing at the hands of Australia B, 5-3 and then India 2-0. In the playoff, they were squarely polished off by Australia A,

2-1. Thank heavens there isn’t an Australian B team or a Z team, because just as the sun rises in the east and then fries us all day long, because we would have lost to them as well with another of our patented and famous toothless performances. When we were licked by Australia A the other day, one Pakistani newspaper had the gall to run a headline, which said, ‘Pakistan surprised by Australia A.’ I mean surprised? What’s the surprise? Where’s the surprise? Who’s surprised? If anybody, it must be the players in Australia A. They must be regaling themselves long after the match over all the tall stories they had heard about the legendary green shirts only to find a bunch of players very green around the ears and with as much talent as a log of wood has in a CSP examination.

I have never been ‘into’ hockey, my only recall being the resonating voice of the late Farooq Mazhar and his chant of ‘Shahnaz, Shahnaz, Shahnaz,’ but I do know that we were once the stuff legends are made of and so brilliant were we at this game that the subcontinent was regarded as light years ahead with the other nations not even a close third. India too was sheer brilliance in motion and of our players, awe-struck commentators said that the hockey balls were glued to our sticks as we weaved circles around leaden-footed and open-mouthed opponents. We could walk into any hockey field and make mincemeat of all who were unfortunate to face us. What we have now is a parody. Change the hockey players into the cricket side and you can’t tell the difference. In fact given our track record in that other great game, it is no longer a debatable point that had we sent our hockey team to South Africa and our cricket team to Malaysia or Australia, we would have done no worse that what we did. There was a time when some of us commenting on yet another pathetic performance from the Pakistan cricket squad moaned and compared them to hockey players in white trousers. Vice versa with knobs on is now the order of the day. In the Arslan Cup our goalkeeper – actually he should be called goal giver, gifted 25 goals. In Australia they pushed 12 goals past him in just 4 matches. The man is a genius and he is not the only one.

And as for squash, what we now have is mango, lemon, lime barley, orange and other such exotic flavours to live with. Pakistan squash which like hockey was the stuff of dreams where our super heroes walked off with every title under their belt, now boasts of different achievements. There is not a single Pakistani in the top ten in world rankings! The days of the Khans are now steeped in folklore and our victories lost in the mists of time. While air marshals preside over the final rituals and systematically enact out charades that seal the fate of this great game for us forever, the lovers of squash can grind their teeth, look above at the good Lord and scream in silent agony. There is no escape from the gripping and dismal reality of another colossal failure that is as real as the sun that mercilessly scorches the land these hot days of June. But then if you are among the game’s great administrators, followed by groveling sycophants and courtiers who sing hymns to your unique qualities of leadership and who tirelessly narrate epic tales of your wonderful achievements, what remains of reality? Every failure can be pegged on a thousand scapegoats and when there are no longer any scapegoats left, why the royal silence is just as good a defence as any.

The PCB has hobbled along on ad hoc crutches, which in stark terms means no responsibility, no accountability but only hot air. For three years and more it remains without a constitution. The armed forces have no love lost for constitutions and find them merely irritating because they fix rules of business, which means that whims no longer have a free hand. This ad hoc dispensation, which ensures no elections, only nominations, is perhaps now the longest in our chequered history, but then what difference does it make? In the now eternal words of George Bush, ‘you are with us or you are not,’ and to find fault with the PCB is tantamount to traitorous behaviour. If you are a supporter, you are good and you are rewarded even while you are still on this earth. If you are not one of them, you are a scumbag, a low life not worth even spitting on. The PHF fares no better. When the relentless Aussies bundled us out for 59 and 53 not too long ago, our cricket general resigned but since there are only happy endings, was ‘forced’ to take it back. The hockey supreme, Gen. Aziz, didn’t even bother to go through the largely meaningless pantomime, choosing instead to pronounce these most significant words through his mouthpiece: ‘we didn’t accept the office to resign.’ So there. Put that in your pipe and smoke it without fear – there is no No Tobacco Day in Pakistan. It is against the law. Hockey nations whose names one never even remotely associated with hockey, now play games with us and make us look like novices. Like the other two games, our selections are made in the same style as those who play Russian roulette. Players are dropped and selected and selected and dropped like ping pong balls. There is hardly anyone left in Pakistan who can name the 11 players who represent the national sides in the three games. There are simply no longer any rules at all. 16 cricketers left this past Thursday on a 3 one-dayer tour of England. 16? I thought wrongly that on full tours, one took 16 players, but then what do we know? If we could take 9 officials to South African instead of 3, 16 instead of 14 is an improvement I suppose.

In a normal country where there are other compensations for the daily grind, sports and its classic death wouldn’t count for much, but here where each day is a test of your patience and dignity in the face of pulverizing adversity, sports mean a lot. They bring a smile of joy to many sad faces. It is cruel to see incompetent people make a royal mess of this facet of our national life and gloat over our defeats, which are now the only consistent feature of our once great heritage. One day the generals will go but it will be far too late by then to recover the loss.