He knows only a few would get up to watch his last inning. But the guy won’t sleep tonight.
This could be his last night as a Test Captain.
There is an unending reel of memories in the backyard. How he came. How he fought. How he won. How he lost.
“How he lost?” could be the punchline of his career. Shall he resist? Shall he stand up once more?
Should he go down the history as a legend?
*********
Tomorrow could be the final day. When Misbah gets out tomorrow, he’d walk off the field, for one last time. Cameras would zoom in.
And it'll be over.
*********
Tomorrow, he is going to be “The Misbah, that was”. Critics would stop writing on him. Cameras would stop chasing him. Fans would start withering.
Life won't stop.
Some afternoon, just an old man would be sitting in his backyard.
“The Misbah that was”.
************
Eventually, it had to be Australia.
Australia. One night he walked off Adelaide. He wasn’t seen in a green kit again. Almost two years have gone.
Things have changed.
Misbah hasn’t.
One last time, all he has done in his career would be evaluated and sealed in history books.
What should be the last note?
Should he do what he, always, does?
Or, should he try else?
*********
A couple of months ago, he was on the top of the world. For the first time in his career, he smiled.
Mickey Arthur asked him, “How could we prolong our stay here, on the top of the world?”
"Quite simple. We win every match now on.” he smiled.
Since, he has smiled less.
And scratched his beard more.
He has won only two and lost four in a row.
He knows this could be it.
And he is too old to keep with his fight, a battle against space and time.
He was known for his calmness. He was loved for it. He was hated for it. For it, they called him a zen master warrior. For it, they labelled him “tuk tuk”. "Calmness" meant “Misbah”.
But now, that seems gone. And with that, Misbah seems gone.
Now, that aura has vanished. Now, he is an old man. A depressed warrior.
Who knows he can’t win.
But insists to win.
*********
In Sharjah, when he tried to dominate Roston Chase and pulled a short one towards deep, for the first time I felt he was getting old. That was his first loss since the mace. That shot was nothing like Misbah. I wondered why he did that.
I couldn’t even believe it was Misbah.
He himself, didn’t believe.
But he had to.
He, certainly, was getting old.
The only match he played against Kiwis was nothing more than an affirmation of my doubts. He had to fly back to Pakistan for his family issues, so he couldn’t even explain what went wrong in Christchurch.
Before flying off to Australia, he spoke of the fuss surrounding his retirement. It was painful. He sounded emotional. “I don’t need a farewell game. Don’t worry, I’d quit when I’d have to.”
That wasn’t anything like Misbah.
*********
First hour of the first game against Aussies, he was himself. When he caught Khwaja off Yasir, he owned it. Yasir rushed towards him. And almost ran through his chest. Behind that dyed beard, Misbah laughed.
Last day at Gabba witnessed an excited Misbah, claiming pride in his team. He talked of his belief in his men. His eyes shone with hope.
**********
Boxing day test began with hope. But ended in distress. It was not a batting collapse that cost him the game. It was he losing over his team. A team that was, at most, a Misbah team only a week ago, wasn’t his any more.
Maybe he was wrong.
Maybe his bowlers were wrong.
But, one thing stood for a fact: he had lost his grip.
He hinted that he was contemplating etirement. Probably even before Sydney. Two days later, he somehow convinced himself to rise again. He told he was not even thinking of retirement.
*********
With a new belief, he came in.
But Sydney was no different. He captained better in the 2nd inning though. But it could make no difference. Nothing went his way.
Yesterday, he batted with more control initially. But couldn’t make peace with himself eventually.
He slogged one towards the mid-wicket.
The region where he was caught off Maxwell in his last ODI game at Adelaide. He got himself out in almost same fashion.
I sensed, it’s time.
He has done enough.
He should pass the baton.
*********
How could he bid farewell?
Would he try to be a Misbah?
Or, would he just be a Misbah.
But maybe,
He'd live on.
No matter how he walks off the SCG.
This could be his last night as a Test Captain.
There is an unending reel of memories in the backyard. How he came. How he fought. How he won. How he lost.
“How he lost?” could be the punchline of his career. Shall he resist? Shall he stand up once more?
Should he go down the history as a legend?
*********
Tomorrow could be the final day. When Misbah gets out tomorrow, he’d walk off the field, for one last time. Cameras would zoom in.
And it'll be over.
*********
Tomorrow, he is going to be “The Misbah, that was”. Critics would stop writing on him. Cameras would stop chasing him. Fans would start withering.
Life won't stop.
Some afternoon, just an old man would be sitting in his backyard.
“The Misbah that was”.
************
Eventually, it had to be Australia.
Australia. One night he walked off Adelaide. He wasn’t seen in a green kit again. Almost two years have gone.
Things have changed.
Misbah hasn’t.
One last time, all he has done in his career would be evaluated and sealed in history books.
What should be the last note?
Should he do what he, always, does?
Or, should he try else?
*********
A couple of months ago, he was on the top of the world. For the first time in his career, he smiled.
Mickey Arthur asked him, “How could we prolong our stay here, on the top of the world?”
"Quite simple. We win every match now on.” he smiled.
Since, he has smiled less.
And scratched his beard more.
He has won only two and lost four in a row.
He knows this could be it.
And he is too old to keep with his fight, a battle against space and time.
He was known for his calmness. He was loved for it. He was hated for it. For it, they called him a zen master warrior. For it, they labelled him “tuk tuk”. "Calmness" meant “Misbah”.
But now, that seems gone. And with that, Misbah seems gone.
Now, that aura has vanished. Now, he is an old man. A depressed warrior.
Who knows he can’t win.
But insists to win.
*********
In Sharjah, when he tried to dominate Roston Chase and pulled a short one towards deep, for the first time I felt he was getting old. That was his first loss since the mace. That shot was nothing like Misbah. I wondered why he did that.
I couldn’t even believe it was Misbah.
He himself, didn’t believe.
But he had to.
He, certainly, was getting old.
The only match he played against Kiwis was nothing more than an affirmation of my doubts. He had to fly back to Pakistan for his family issues, so he couldn’t even explain what went wrong in Christchurch.
Before flying off to Australia, he spoke of the fuss surrounding his retirement. It was painful. He sounded emotional. “I don’t need a farewell game. Don’t worry, I’d quit when I’d have to.”
That wasn’t anything like Misbah.
*********
First hour of the first game against Aussies, he was himself. When he caught Khwaja off Yasir, he owned it. Yasir rushed towards him. And almost ran through his chest. Behind that dyed beard, Misbah laughed.
Last day at Gabba witnessed an excited Misbah, claiming pride in his team. He talked of his belief in his men. His eyes shone with hope.
**********
Boxing day test began with hope. But ended in distress. It was not a batting collapse that cost him the game. It was he losing over his team. A team that was, at most, a Misbah team only a week ago, wasn’t his any more.
Maybe he was wrong.
Maybe his bowlers were wrong.
But, one thing stood for a fact: he had lost his grip.
He hinted that he was contemplating etirement. Probably even before Sydney. Two days later, he somehow convinced himself to rise again. He told he was not even thinking of retirement.
*********
With a new belief, he came in.
But Sydney was no different. He captained better in the 2nd inning though. But it could make no difference. Nothing went his way.
Yesterday, he batted with more control initially. But couldn’t make peace with himself eventually.
He slogged one towards the mid-wicket.
The region where he was caught off Maxwell in his last ODI game at Adelaide. He got himself out in almost same fashion.
I sensed, it’s time.
He has done enough.
He should pass the baton.
*********
How could he bid farewell?
Would he try to be a Misbah?
Or, would he just be a Misbah.
But maybe,
He'd live on.
No matter how he walks off the SCG.
No comments:
Post a Comment