Inzi goes to Australia

Among others, I have suggested in the past that Inzamam-ul-Haq's middling record against Australia - he averages a fraction over 34 - is held against him when any definitive, conclusive analysis is done of his place in a pantheon of the most successful modern-day batsmen. That is, when his contribution is put alongside the Laras, Sachins, Dravids, Pontings and Vaughans, he suffers in comparison because he hasn't handled his generation's most penetrative attack as well as the others have.

From this logic then, the Super Series is important because it offers him one final chance to perform against Australia and finally lay to rest any lingering niggles that exist about his career. It completes the circle, for ultimately, in cricket, we tend to judge the big players by how they perform against the very best.

But should we be so rigid? Each of the batsmen mentioned above have at least one team - a bogey - against whom their record is relatively less flattering over a substantial period. Tendulkar averages 37 against South Africa while Dravid's record against them is only marginally better (39), Ponting 41 against England, Lara 38 against India and Kallis 34 against Sri Lanka. Yet Inzamam's failures against Australia are more detrimental to his eventual place in history than say Lara's or Dravid's against India and South Africa respectively.

In other words, should success against Australia - or a generic best of any era- really be that vital and definitive a measure of a modern-day cricketer's class? Take Lara's career; he's superhuman against a consistently outstanding attack (Australia) but mediocre against a traditionally poor one (India). Kallis is superhuman against poor attacks but mediocre against an outstanding one. A majority of people will readily say, with utmost conviction, that Lara is a better batsman than Kallis. But why do we judge failure against the best as being worse than failure against the worst? They are, after all, both failures.

Let's invert the argument; where, ultimately, will Vaughan stand, whose record against the best in the world is superb but who has struggled against most other, mostly mediocre attacks with few exceptions? Remember Ijaz Ahmed? His overall record is ordinary, yet he averaged 47 and made six of his 12 Test centuries against Australia. Or Allan Lamb, who countered the West Indian pace quartet at their terrifying peak on numerous occasions, yet still ended with neither-here-nor-there figures.

Of course, Inzamam's situation is not new. In the past, Javed Miandad's ordinary record against the West Indies was held against him by his own captain as proof that he wasn't somehow a `complete' batsman. Only Miandad's chutzpah provided an immediate retort with two hundreds in the Caribbean in 1988 and a pass into the Hall of Fame. And Dravid, in most people's estimation, only moved into genuinely rarefied company after scoring big against Australia in their backyard, despite averaging nearly 55 before the series.

These examples are pertinent, for they highlight the folly often inherent in attaching so much significance to performances against the 'best'. Miandad's runs were made against an attack that didn't include Holding, Roberts, Garner, Croft and even Marshall for one of the Tests. Dravid's tour de force Down Under came when the very essence of Australia's greatness - the McGrath-Warne axis - was missing. And of course, there are the now infamous `Gavaskar against the West Indies' figures which Cricinfo's Numbers Game examined and shed a different light on.

Above all though, this argument's greatest failing is that it places context in a hierarchy of importance. In cricket context is crucial, but it is also fluid. Two down for 20 against Australia at the WACA isn't automatically more challenging than 10 for 3 at Mohali against India, even if you assume Australia's attack to be stronger and the Mohali pitch to be a shirtfront. The comparison is intangible, dependant on too many variables. It doesn't factor in, for example, that Inzamam came in as an angry captain under severe pressure in Mohali, knowing that his job was on the line and still managed a fury so elegant it rendered everyone breathless.

Or can anybody say, with complete authority, that Lara guiding his team to a one-wicket win against Australia by hitting Jason Gillespie through the covers for four is a display of greater quality than Inzamam stealing a last-ball four from Tendulkar at Ahmedabad to snatch a win. Like Lara, had Inzamam failed then, a series would have been lost and perhaps too the leadership. Unlike Lara, Inzamam's role as captain, and even the venue, held much broader political implications, much beyond any ordinary cricketer's remit. How does Inzamam's Multan century against Bangladesh, dripping with compelling context (hometown, possibly last match, unimaginable consequences of failure; take your pick) but shorn of a great attack, compare? But these factors are often overlooked when retrospectives are lined up.

When asked last year before the tour to Australia whether he wanted to improve his record, Inzamam was typically nonchalant. "It's not just that it's Australia. Against any team you have to think that you must perform well. I think like that before every big series and this is just another. Obviously they are the best team in the world and it motivates you to perform better against them but it doesn't prey on my mind."

Despite a near-incomparable record as a matchwinner, Inzamam may well end his career with a poor record against Australia. For some, it will take the sheen off an illustrious career. And that is a shame for while it is only natural that players are measured against the very best, it isn't necessarily right that they are wholly judged by their performances against them.