Different Sunday, same script: Pakistan's promising final gets inevitable ending

After all these years, it is remarkable that an India-Pakistan contest somehow manages to retain both its jeopardy and its inevitability. Long after India has cemented its status as cricket's shepherd that corals its flock and drives it any way it might want it to go, Pakistan still manage to run off into a rogue field and cause brief mayhem. That order will eventually be restored, though, has never been in doubt, and in a final that never revealed its hand until the end, the people have played this game long enough to know the cards it concealed. And they knew it well before Tilak Varma's arcing swipe found the midwicket stands rather than the fielder stationed just in front.

That Pakistan came as close as they did, though, must have plenty more to do with this rivalry, still very much alive despite the lopsided win count of late or the Indian captain's attempt to dismiss it as one. It is often said in football that local derbies fling form out of the window, and those games are impossible to learn anything from or read much into. That principle is all that looks to have tipped Sunday's final into a thriller. Because, on the balance of what Pakistan had to offer against an Indian side that last lost a T20I in the Bronze Age or how much Pakistan even appeared to understands their own side's capabilities and limitations, their proximity to glory - 11 days after they had to scrap to avoid elimination against the UAE - stretches credulity.

It must be a strange thing to be Saim Ayub, a man who looks like he perpetually just woke up after his mother shooed him out of the house and funnelled him straight into the Pakistan team. He is both in the worst form of his life, but his dismissal also appears to act as his side's trigger for absolute implosion. For the second Sunday in a row, Sahibzada Farhan - who had never played India a fortnight ago and has now scored more than a quarter of his international runs against them - got Pakistan off to the start of their dreams, before Saim popped in and tried to play himself into a bit of form.

He lost his wicket shortly after, but Pakistan were still in almost the precise desirable position they found themselves in the previous week, given a precious do-over in the final. On that occasion, they'd sent in Hussain Talat, a player whose T20 game carries about the same excitement as a robot with a sore throat reading War and Peace. This time around, in the Mohammad Haris sweepstakes, this was the moment he was sent in - three wildly different uses of the same player on three different Sundays. The first time around, he was batting in the first over; last Sunday, he did not bat at all. In the final, with India's torturously relentless spinners beginning to find their groove, out strode Haris.

Haris is what might happen if a box of firecrackers were accidentally set off all at the same time: dazzling brief drama with bleak nothingness to follow. He opted - off just his second ball - to play the only inside out drive of the game, trying to caress Axar Patel on a surface that was stopping. Pakistan had lost two in four balls, and were rushing to fill in the lines in the pattern they had carved out last Sunday.

Having had a week to ruminate on this precise scenario, Pakistan demonstrated they still had little idea how to deal with it. Fair play if you can accurately recall the Pakistani order in the wake of that Haris wicket, because it might as well just have been anyone at any time. It was, for the record, Salman Agha, who showed up next, a player Babar Azam could be compared to if he chewed gum and lost his cover drive. And of course, in a lot of ways, it really is all about Salman Agha.

There's little to dislike about Salman Agha the man, who has worked his way into international cricket at a relatively advanced age after toiling through the domestic circuit for a decade. He's generally affable in his post-match interactions, and there's a real sincerity to his everyman image and the seemingly informal elocution which media training has mercifully not yet modulated.

"There have been ups and downs," Agha said, in an assessment that might put a fortune cookie to shame. "There have been lots of positives and lots of things to work on. The good thing is we know what we did well and what we didn't. We'll try to do better with the things we did wrong, and to keep doing the things we did right."

But watching him walk out in the final began to feel like one of those things that Pakistan appeared to be doing wrong, and a moment when the emperor's lack of clothes become impossible to ignore. This tournament has seen 28 batters score more runs than the Pakistan captain, all at over a run a ball. Agha's strike rate in the Asia Cup is less than 81, and 110 over his career, dropping every time he seems to play an opposition of note. Against India and Australia, he has scored a combined 33 runs in 44 balls, averaging just over six. Even against the UAE on spinning tracks - his supposed strength, three games produced 32 runs at a strike rate of 78.09.

It was off his seventh ball that he decided he wanted to launch Kuldeep Yadav out of the ground. Like a toddler biting off more chocolate than they can chew ability didn't seem to come into it. He sputtered at the ball with the ungainliness of a wedding dancer thrust into the Bolshoi Ballet. It fizzed straight up and Sanju Samson was happy to collect.

Four balls earlier, Talat, also at the crease because the fall of wickets was no longer an event as much as an inevitability, had also taken his leave in similar circumstances, power-hitting with no power and offering the wicketkeeper catching practice. The two anchors had made little headway to Pakistan's total, and hadn't done much anchoring, either. A few overs later, Pakistan were bowled out for 146, nine wickets falling for 33 runs. 113 now is the highest total in T20I history upon which a side lost their second wicket and found themselves bowled out under 150.

Perhaps there is a more charitable explanation for it all; that Pakistan simply have no tools to take India on when in full flow. An intentional slowdown the previous week, precisely to guard against a capitulation last night saw them fall well short anyway. In the final, they kept trying to hack at the spinners; they played aggressive shots to 40% of the balls they faced to India's slower bowlers, and yet that trio allowed just 86 in 12 overs, picking up eight of Pakistan's wickets. There is pain and misery whichever way you twist.

But Pakistan are not setting this T20 side up, for now, anyway, to compete with India. No matter how close they felt to that mirage of an Asia Cup trophy, the chasm between the two sides remains tremendously large. Just flip the roles and picture Pakistan chasing last night, and see if there are any points in the chase you'd back them as favourites. Pakistan have set themselves a longer-term project that may involve short term pain for a side set up to reap longer term rewards. It is why Babar and Rizwan are out in the cold even if, as has been pointed out, they may ironically have been perfectly suited for the conditions this tournament offered up, and with whom Pakistan have a 2-1 winning T20I record against India in Dubai.

While doing away with those two, though, Pakistan appear to have replaced them, simply further down the order, with decisively inferior options. After praising Hasan Nawaz as a generational power hitter whose non-Powerplay strike rate this year is inferior only to Dewald Brevis and Tim David, they turned once more to Talat, very much not in the mould that coach Mike Hesson has insisted Pakistan will look to relentlessly pursue. With the uncertainty of Haris' role, or indeed Shaheen Afridi's with the bat, Pakistan have spent the last month showing they may be willing to wound, but at the moments that usually matter, they have been afraid to strike.

And that sounds very much like the side that Babar Azam and Mohammad Rizwan used to lead. Against India where they somehow both overperformed and underperformed, it is anyone's guess what lessons Pakistan will take as they continue on with what they still consider to be a revolution. But, as far as jeopardy and inevitability go, this is, after all, that most characteristic way of Pakistani revolutions, one where the establishment structure doesn't quite seem to change.