What's with all the talk about Pakistan's lack of heart?

The most common narrative doing the rounds of the Pakistani interwebs right now are articles about the similarities between the current squad and the 1992 one. Each piece tries harder than the previous one to connect what can't, or rather shouldn't, be connected.

But there is one thing that the current Pakistan squad, led by Misbah-ul-Haq, Waqar Younis and chief selector Moin Khan, share with the class of 1992. Their approach to ODI batting, as I have said previously, is very much behind the rest of the world. The mentality behind the team selection and the way the team plays is a throwback to the early '90s. And it's something worth condemning. If Pakistan do well in this tournament, it'll either be because they have finally realised the shortcomings of their mindset, or because of individual brilliance - which they have had to rely on too often.

Yet the reactions to the loss to India in Adelaide in particular provided a window into the mindset of the Pakistani cricket fraternity. What was condemned was the bowling. Apparently the match was over when India were restricted to 300 - never mind that that is considered a par score these days. Apparently the game was over after 45 overs. Apparently the only problem with Pakistan, on a day that they dived around more than normal and kept their heads in the death overs and for the first third of their batting, was that they didn't play with big hearts. Apparently the confidence of a group of bowlers who were charged up for 20 overs shouldn't be affected by a fielding unit that drops a catch once every ten overs.

It's not just the lot in Australia who are behind the times but also almost every single ex-cricketer on the plethora of news channels. For every Bazid Khan there are a dozen who seem to believe that research on the teams involved in the tournament or on modern ODI cricket is unnecessary. The main problem was the chicken-hearted captain and his players. All they lacked was the passion for the shirt, and were instead interested only in the financial benefits of the game. A random group of youngsters would have performed better, because they would have taken pride in representing Pakistan, and playing with pride is all that is needed to succeed at this level.

On one TV channel, a former international cricketer posited the rather jaw-dropping theory (to no objection, I might add) that the reason Misbah was defensive was that his father had died when he was still a teenager and he was brought up by his mother, rendering him effeminate. This pundit would also spend much of the programme praising the aggressiveness of Virat Kohli in comparison to the Pakistani lot. It was a surprise that Younis Khan, known for standing up to and surviving administrators and senators, wasn't called chicken-hearted.

But why does that matter? Well, the sad part about things in Pakistan is that unless the media creates a ruckus, no one gives a toss. Sometimes this ruckus is enough to make the prime minister take notice. And that is an attitude that pervades the sporting landscape too - whether it manifests itself in the continued exclusion Fawad Alam or Sarfraz Ahmed or the undeserved recall of Younis. Worst of all, the higher-ups in the PCB seem more interested in the media fallout from any step taken rather than the actual effectiveness of such steps.

No one in the media asked why older players - Sohail Tanvir, Yasir Arafat and even Azhar Mahmood - were being considered as replacements for Mohammad Hafeez. The only younger alternatives seem to be Bilawal Bhatti and Anwar Ali - two players who have, quite spectacularly, failed to make their mark in the international game. In an era in which bits-and-pieces cricketers are more valuable than ever due to the deluge of T20 cricket, Pakistan seem to be the only side filled mainly with specialists.

Perhaps, and many Pakistanis will be loath to admit it, it goes back to that obsession with 1992. Imran's words, rather than his actions, are being followed. In the race to produce "match-winners" and nothing but, in a race to discard railoo katas (bits-and-pieces cricketers) we've arrived at a situation where the national team needs more of the latter.

It's not the legacy of Imran Khan that Pakistan are now following. After all, under him, Mudassar Nazar, a top-order batsman and part-time medium-pacer, became the mainstay - at a time when Imran alone provided enough balance to cover for several underperforming players. Instead, we are living the legacy of Wasim and Waqar - the men who believed in Imran's words even more than he did. The living embodiment of Imran's beliefs have now overtaken Pakistani cricket. His words speak louder than his actions. You select specialists and only then try and find the balance. The irony of Darren Sammy, the perfect embodiment of the railoo kata, taking a game away from Pakistan was missed by a few too many people.

Perhaps I am completely wrong with such a theory, but what concerns me is that no one seems to have attempted to address this issue. Like everything else a healthy debate might actually provide us with some answers. But alas, despite our fondness for conversing endlessly, healthy debates just aren't a done thing in Pakistan.