As a schoolboy when he played in the streets of Karachi, Shahid Afridi idolized Imran Khan. He used to try to bowl like Imran, walk like Imran and caught the habit of hitting the big shots after watching the former Pakistan captain smashing a towering six.
“I used to dream about cricket all the time from the day I started playing it,” remembers Afridi as we sit in one of the dressing rooms of Karachi’s National Stadium on a pleasant August afternoon.
“I wanted to be a fast bowler just like Imran Khan but the problem was that I was a sort of a chucker,” he tells me with a big grin.
Fortunately for Afridi, Abdul Qadir was his second most favourite cricketer.
“One day somebody saw me bowling slow deliveries as I liked to imitate Abdul Qadir and told me to become a leggie. It was easily one of the best advices I’ve ever received as a cricketer.”
Afridi made his bones as a leggie who could hit the big shots while still in his early teens but he never believed that there was future for him in international cricket.
“I never thought that instead of my brothers and friends, most of whom are really good cricketers, it will be I who will go on to play for Pakistan.
“The thing is that I don’t believe I’m really talented. I’ve certainly been a hardworking player and God has been really kind otherwise I don’t see myself as a particularly gifted cricketer.”
But millions of his fans around the globe think otherwise. For them it has been love at first sight since the day he smashed a 37-ball century — the fastest ever in international cricket — against Sri Lanka in Nairobi. Afridi was not even 17 at that time. “It felt like as if it was all a dream,” he says. “I was just summoned to Kenya at a short notice and everything just happened so quickly.”
Afridi hit a record 11 sixes in that stunning century and that sealed his fate as Pakistan’s most valuable pinch-hitter for years to come. From then onwards, whenever Afridi went to bat his fans expected a flurry of sixes. Sometimes he obliged but mostly he didn’t.
“In the beginning I used to really enjoy it,” says Afridi as he takes a bottle of water from an attendant.
“But slowly the enjoyment was replaced by pressure because I had realized that it’s actually impossible to hit the ball out of the park all the time.
“The problem is that trying to hit the ball all the time had already become part of my nature by then.”
So why wasn’t Afridi, who has played more cricket than any other players in the current Pakistan line-up, able to shrug off the tag of world cricket’s most notorious slogger?
“I don’t know,” the question leaves him a bit baffled. “May be I was not strong enough mentally. In fact, I believe that’s the reason why. I wasn’t mentally strong.”
Over the years, Afridi had been lucky to have benefited from several mentors but none could teach him the art of valuing his own wicket.
“I’ve learnt so much from my seniors. I’ve played under Wasim Akram, Moin Khan, Inzamam and all of them used to give me confidence. They’ve taught me so much.”
Over the years, Afridi has loved to play the role of a hero on the cricket field. He has tasted success and losses in equal measure.
“Everybody loves to be a hero,” says Afridi whose favourite actors are Mel Gibson in Brave Heart and Russell Crowe in Gladiator. “I’ve always loved watching movies laden with heroism because that’s the sort of stuff that inspires you to be a hero yourself.”
Afridi has been gifted with enough opportunities to be a hero. Significantly, more often than not he has finished on the losing end. He was part of the team at the 1999 World Cup final in England where Pakistan flopped miserably against Australia. He was in his elements at the inaugural Twenty20 World Cup in 2007 in South Africa but failed to save Pakistan from a heartbreaking defeat against India in the final.
But instead of ruing those missed opportunities, Afridi likes to remember “happier events” like the 2009 Twenty20 World Cup in England where he sizzled in both the semifinal and final to shepherd Pakistan to the crown at Lord’s.
“In many ways, winning the T20 World Cup at Lord’s was the best day of my cricketing career,” he says. “With so much violence going on back home and the misery of our people compounded by the floods, it felt really good to win the title for Pakistan. We are stars because our people love us and we won the World Cup for them.”
It was Afridi’s stellar showing in England that finally earned him Pakistan’s captaincy. In 2010, the seasoned all-rounder was installed as captain for all three formats after he agreed to come out of Test retirement.
“Agreeing to play Tests again was a bad move on my part,” he admits. “Mentally, I wasn’t ready for the task and it showed.”
Under Afridi, Pakistan flopped miserably in the first Test against Australia at Lord’s and opted to retire from Test cricket yet again.
But limited-overs cricket was a different story.
At a time when Pakistan were reeling in the aftermath of the spot-fixing embarrassment involving three of their key players, the team’s one-day fortunes were slowly but surely getting a boost under Afridi.
As captain, Afridi’s role model was, who else but Imran Khan! “(As captain) I saw myself as an elder brother to all my teammates,” he says.
“It was a difficult time because of all the match-fixing stuff and the morale was down. But I knew that our team had the basic ingredients to become a top side and tried to get the best out of the boys.
“Off the field, I was their best friend but on the field I was strict. There was no leniency for anybody. I must say that more often than not the boys responded positively.”
Under Afridi, Pakistan went to World Cup 2011 as the underdogs. But they changed all that with back-to-back wins against hosts Sri Lanka and defending champions Australia to top their group.
A 10-wicket triumph over West Indies in a one-sided quarterfinal in Dhaka earned them a mouthwatering last four clash against old rivals India at Mohali. Suddenly, anything seemed possible. But all the anticipation ended in a heartbreak.
“Losing against India (in Mohali) is one of the bitter memories of my life,” laments Afridi. “The feeling that we could have won that match only makes it worse. I couldn’t sleep for several nights after that loss and had to finally take sleeping pills. Many of my teammates did the same. It was so bad.”
So what’s even worse than losing to India in a World Cup semifinal?
“Match-fixing, spot-fixing and anything to do with corruption (in cricket) because it’s like selling your country, it’s like selling your soul.”
Afridi is still angry at the trio of Salman Butt, Mohammad Asif and Mohammad Amir for “bringing shame to Pakistan.”
“How can you do that to a country which has given you so much,” he asks, rhetorically.
Many, especially in the West, argue that low wages of Pakistani cricketers make them fair game for match-fixing mafias. “I don’t think so,” he says. “If you are a thief than no matter how much you earn you are going to rob.”
But Afridi agrees Pakistani cricketers are severely under-paid.
“You look at India where even a first-class cricketer is a millionaire and you feel deprived, it’s quite natural,” he says. “Thanks to the IPL, Indian players are now counted among the richest cricketers in the world. But in Pakistan, it’s a different story altogether.”
Afridi is easily one of the richest cricketers this side of the border but he doesn’t even come close to the likes of MS Dhoni or Sachin Tendulkar when it comes to making money.
“I don’t care because God has been kind to me,” he says. “But I do feel for first-class cricketers in Pakistan, most of whom, fail to even make ends meet.”
“Being financially secure is very important for a sportsman because it’s very difficult for him to give his best when he is unable to make a decent living for his family.”
Afridi believes that local cricketers deserve a major increase in their wages.
“With so much inflation and countless expenses, I believe a first-class player in our country should make around Rs3.5-4 million. He would still be making much less than his Indian counterpart but at least he would be comfortable.”
It’s easy for Afridi to get distracted, at least in a conversation.
This time there is a group of fans who have come all the way from a village near Khyber and are now peeping through the door hoping to catch his eye. He waves them in. Greetings are exchanged in Pashtu. Photographs are taken. The fans are ecstatic.
“The sort of love I get (from my fans) keeps me going,” says Afridi, a veteran of 424 international matches at the age of 32. “It helps me give my best for Pakistan.”
So can one expect his best for Pakistan at the Twenty20 World Cup getting underway in Sri Lanka later this month?
“I’ll give it my hundred percent,” said Afridi, who has been battling to overcome a lean patch in recent times. “I’ve been training hard and will hopefully, regain my form soon.”
Pakistan have done better than most teams in the Twenty20 World Cup since its inception five years ago. They lost in the final in 2007, won the title in 2009 and suffered a narrow semifinal loss in 2010.
For their fans, anything less than a title-winning triumph in Sri Lanka next month would probably be deemed a failure.
Can Pakistan win the crown again? “Of course we can,” stresses Afridi.
“We have a good team and all we need is good intentions.”
What does he mean by “good intentions”?
“Good intentions mean good intentions,” he smiles. “Good intentions mean giving your best in all circumstances. It means playing with spirit and keeping the team’s interest above everything else.”
So does he suspect any lack of good intentions among his teammates? “I didn’t say that. What I mean is that all the players will have to keep the team’s cause on top of their own agenda and allow nothing to compromise it. I believe they will do it.”
Afridi’s supporters believe he was the right man to lead Pakistan at the Twenty20 World Cup. Does he feel bad about the fact that he would be playing under a younger and lesser-experienced Mohammad Hafeez?
“Not at all,” he says. “Hafeez is a good cricketer and a good teammate. I have no problems playing under him.”
Does he feel bad about losing the captaincy?
“Well, captaining Pakistan was a great honour. But it was also a huge burden. I mean you have to fight on so many fronts that sometimes it leaves you completely drained. Personally, I think losing the captaincy was a blessing in disguise.”
Suddenly, there is commotion outside the dressing room. “It must be the producer,” Afridi tells me. “I think they want me for the shoot.”
He gets up, gives me a firm handshake. “Just pray for us brother. Prayers always help.”
He leaves with a camera crew to shoot a commercial for some soft-drink company, I guess. Downstairs, several dozen people have assembled after dodging security just to get a glimpse of their favourite star. Afridi won’t be batting today. But they are just happy to see him take a shot behind the cam.
The writer is a senior journalist based in Karachi.
