Asad Shafiq: Pakistan's fuss-free, low-key, endearing contributor

Two of them together and then two of them a year apart, more than six years after they last played together, they are now all gone and an era has its definitive end. First MisYou went in 2017, then Azhar Ali a year ago, and now, with the least fanfare, Asad Shafiq.

The openers came, sometimes did a bit, but always went. The bowlers came, did a lot, but also always went. The middle order, though, that never went anywhere. That was rooted at the core of the Misbah era, its beating, bloody heart. Azhar to calm the nerves of an early loss, albeit in that inherently fraught way of his; Younis and Misbah, the adults in the room to bring some order; and then Shafiq, diminutive, demure Shafiq, the sting in the lower order. Now they are all gone. Six years since they last played, 13 since they got together. It's been an age.

Shafiq announced his retirement on Sunday night - past midnight actually, so Monday - having captained Karachi Whites to the National T20 Cup title. He walked off the field through the now customary guard-of-honour, and it all felt a little incongruous. One, he was captain, and though he did lead at domestic level towards the end of his career, and despite having played 77 Tests, Shafiq never struck anyone as an outright leader. That's not meant as a slight. The vast majority of cricketers are not leaders. And two, this was a T20, the format that least suited Shafiq. Perhaps this is the new reality, that all careers now end in some T20 somewhere because there's always some T20 playing out somewhere.

What was congruous, though, was that he signed off playing domestic cricket, away from the brighter lights of the game. After he was dropped by Pakistan in August 2020, Shafiq turned out without fail in the subsequent four seasons of the Quaid-e-Azam Trophy, averaging 50-plus in all but one. He wanted to get back into the Pakistan side obviously, but also, as he said at his retirement press conference, he just loved playing. It was as simple as that. Not as an audition for a franchise spot, not to leverage his runs towards a contract, just because of his devotion to the game itself.

It was a fitting press conference. Shafiq began by apologising for keeping journalists waiting. The second question was about Ahmed Shahzad and his comeback campaign, a pantomime fuelled more by social media than impactful performances. It wasn't irrelevant, given that Shafiq soon takes up a selection post. But it was very Shafiq for his moment to not fully be his moment. Later he was asked if he had taken captaincy tips from Sarfaraz Ahmed in Karachi's title win. Second billing in his own city, even in this moment of triumph and tribute.

When they did ask about him, he was straightforward and honest in a way Pakistani retirement announcements never are. The game no longer excited him as it once had. At the start of this season, he recognised that physically he was waning a touch and concluded it was time. No, he said, he never cracked T20s because he couldn't change his batting as comprehensively as the format required. He chose the 137 at the Gabba as his favourite innings, and though he said it would forever contain a tinge of regret because it didn't secure the win, it didn't feel like that weighed heavily on him.

There was no bitterness over his being dropped or failure to return to the Pakistan side. He was told recently, he said, that Pakistan were happy with their current middle order and wanted to give them time. He thought that was perfectly reasonable. There were highs, he remembered, like Pakistan's rise to No. 1 in Tests, and he couldn't think of a low. He had the opportunity to play international cricket for ten years, he said, and how can there be a low in that? No tears, no applause, no frills. Very endearing, though, because Shafiq always was an endearing character.

In some ways he represented the very best of those Misbah years. Here was a compact and elegant batter with an aesthetic that would have been remembered better had it not been sandwiched between the careers of Mohammad Yousuf and Babar Azam. Instead, the traits that will be recalled are the earnestness he brought to the cause and how dutiful and unfussed he was in achieving what he did.

In some ways he encapsulated the frustrations of that era as well. If that was a middle order that could chase down over 300 in the fourth innings of Tests, or nearly even 490, it was also one that could collapse inexplicably in a heap, against anyone, anywhere, anytime.

If you could coo and sigh at Shafiq picking a gap through midwicket, you could also despair at him missing the exact same ball and getting bowled through the gate. Some days he would play and you'd wonder why he wasn't considered among the best batters of the day. And then some days Shafiq would play and you'd know exactly why he wasn't.

The 137 against Australia remains, for most people, his finest innings, in some part because quiet heroism that wasn't quite enough seemed to sum up Shafiq. The Cape Town hundred against the finest attack of the time was better batting, but also in a loss. On the other hand there was his second-innings 43 in Abu Dhabi against Jimmy Anderson, Stuart Broad, Monty Panesar and Graeme Swann, when he came in with Pakistan effectively minus 16 for four. On the back of it, they went on, famously, to defend 145. A small, underrated contribution in a win, alas, was also a classic Shafiq stamp.

Two ultimately inconsequential yet revealing records speak to his intrinsic role in the side as well as to his quality. No Pakistani has ever played more Tests consecutively than the 72 he did, and no batter anywhere has more than his nine Test hundreds from No. 6. The latter is actually more equivocal. A batter of his quality, always the argument went, should be batting higher. For long, with Younis and Misbah above him, it wasn't possible. When they left and he moved up, he faltered.

Nevertheless, his exit and imminent next step do provide us with a neat circle. Of sorts. When he debuted in 2010, he arrived in the almighty mess created by Salman Butt and others. As he leaves, it is into the wake of another Salman Butt-impacted mess. He's not walking into Butt's short-lived selection consultant's role. Shafiq was sounded out for a post before Butt was controversially roped in and farcically shunted out the next day. But the irony can't be lost on anyone, least of all Shafiq.

So when he said in his farewell that he didn't worry about the ostensibly underwhelming numbers he leaves behind and that he was satisfied with his career, it sounded genuine. Why wouldn't it? It was a tough gig he inherited back in 2010. Part of the brief was not just to make Pakistan a better team but to win back the trust and confidence of Pakistani fans, and the entire game really. Shafiq's role in achieving both was undeniable, and ultimately, only partially measurable by data points.