Pakistan's crimebuster (26 June 1999)

26 June 1999

Pakistan's crimebuster

The Electronic Telegraph

When The last over's over, most international cricket captains go into commentary and the nearest bar. Imran Khan, being different, went into politics. He states with absolute conviction that he will be Pakistan's next Prime Minister in two years' time.

It is not conventional. It is not comfortable. It certainly is not safe. But this wasn't a choice, it was a compulsion and Imran did not mount the lionised ramparts of world cricket by playing defensive dabs down the wicket. "People - Pakistani people - ask me why I went into politics. I say to them: 'Why are you not in politics? Your country is sinking'. To be a member of the elite in Pakistan is like doing well on the Titanic."

The jolt and shudder of decline was felt most particularly last Sunday when those of the 140 million population with an almost uncontrollable passion for cricket (about 139.9 million) had to watch their team get all out for 132 against Australia. "It's what you call buckling under pressure," said Imran, whose victorious 1992 team had not, under his personal, canny, inspirational command, buckled.

And now, in addition to the opprobrium and despair, four members of the losing team, including the captain Wasim Akram, are facing the results of a judicial inquiry into match-fixing allegations. This is hugely ironic for Imran. His whole reason for political being is to fight the corruption he claims has bankrupted his country and yet the sport upon which he founded his reputation and the man he tutored and loves stands accused of the self-same thing.

"Of course it is sad for Wasim. When I played cricket I really adored him. I still do. He was the player who won me most matches. He was a captain's dream. That's why I blame the judicial system. What if these people are innocent? It's too big an accusation. If someone had accused me of match-fixing, God, I would have put everything into taking them to court for libel.

"If there is corruption in Pakistani cricket - and I say a big if - would you blame the players? If the Prime Minister has huge corruption charges against him that will make these cricket team charges a drop in the ocean and if the opposition has actually been convicted of a crime . . . when the leadership is setting this example, why blame these poor cricketers, if they've done it?

"I blame the judicial system. They've allowed this monster to grow. It should have been investigated and a judgment made when the allegations were first made in 1993 and 1994. That would have killed it then. Instead, they let it hang there and it did a lot of damage. Finally, an inquiry was conducted last year and for some reason, although they have the results, they wanted to wait until the World Cup was over. That in itself was unethical. The poor players. I feel sorry for them.

"Crime exists in every society but civilised societies make sure crime is punished. Our problem in Pakistan is that criminals are heading the country. Our Prime Minister has serious allegations against him. Benazir Bhutto has actually been convicted. When a Prime Minister, the opposition leader, the cabinet and most members of parliament are corrupt, the message to the people is that crime pays."

Imran's political party was four months old at the last election and failed to win a single seat. But their slogan remains fairly catchy. "We are trying to bring back civilisation to our country by putting the criminals behind bars and not into parliament."

He is a compelling orator, even sitting alone on the gorgeously-plumped cushions of the Goldsmith residence at the fringe of Richmond Park. He married into the house, of course. His wife, Jemima (nee Goldsmith) is fielding phone calls, as we speak, from his would-be publisher. Imran is the only man on the planet contemplating a serious book on politics, religion and international cricket. Unless Merv Hughes is, too.

His words carry the weight of authority that 21 years of international sport can bestow and his immaculately-manicured hands, once elegantly wrapped around bat and ball, now ornament his impassioned political statements. It is hard to see back through the mists of time to a newly-crowned captain too bashful to address his own players.

"I never, ever, ever wanted to be a politician. I've always been a private person and very unfairly at times called arrogant because I was shy. I never forget that when I made my first speech to the team as captain, I couldn't even speak to the players directly. I told the manager to give my message to the players, I was that shy.

"And then, to actually ask for votes - that takes a certain personality. To anyone who feels self respect and self-esteem, begging is the worst thing. I guess most people do it for the perks and privileges that power offers you. But for me the Almighty had already given me everything. Here I was, loved in my country, especially after building the hospital. The sort of respect I got in my country, I don't think anyone's ever had."

Even before the cancer hospital he built in memory of his mother, he was revered as a sportsman. Born in 1952 into the Pathan tribe, he was first cousin to two former Pakistani cricket captains, the son of an engineer living in a up-market suburb of Lahore. He had background, education (a degree in politics and economics from Oxford) and, above all, the mentality of a determined risk-taker. Fusing each one with the other created one of the greatest all-rounders world cricket has seen.

"I always had great ambitions. I wanted to reach the top. I did not want to make cricket my bread and butter. I had no worries about my livelihood. Therefore I was more risktaking. People say practice is boring, but I loved it. There was a paid employee at the club in Pakistan where I played as a boy and I would go in the afternoon when no one was in the nets and pay him extra so he would just keep throwing balls at me. Later I bowled over and over again at one stump to get my accuracy up."

One senses a slight contrast between this attitude and the one fostered in our own county cricket, that podgy launchpad to Super Sixes failure in the recent World Cup. Imran is calmly scathing on the subject. "English cricket is some sort of employment agency for cricketers. What is county cricket for? If it is to produce Test players, it has failed to do so. If it is just to employ cricketers on a minimum wage, it's doing a good job.

"You cannot have that. It's inherently against competitiveness. When cricketers are playing just to make a living, they don't experiment, don't take risks. They are only interested in bread and butter. That's why English cricket is boring. The flamboyance and the flair all disappears when you're worrying about mortgages."

In his old days with Worcester (1971-76) and Sussex (1977-88), some of his opponents would have a quiet word with him before a match. Don't bowl too hard at me today, old man, they quivered. "It happened a few times," he admitted with a chuckle. "Fast bowling is an aggressive act and I must admit I used to feel sorry for certain batsmen. But only in county cricket. In Test cricket, you take no prisoners."

Not in World Cup cricket, either. He watched with dawning recognition the progress of the Australian team through the tournament. It reminded him of his Pakistan in 1992. "I actually predicted early on that Australia would be the most dangerous team when they beat India. You could see them - under pressure - getting strong. Their nerves were better than the other teams. Like us in 1992. Halfway through that tournament we were second from bottom. Only Zimbabwe were below us. We had to win every match to get to the final, and we did.

"The World Cup is even more a test of nerves than a test of skill. What happened to Pakistan in this final is it just got too much. The fall of a wicket in a World Cup final is a disaster because the new batsman is under so much pressure. The other team is on top, the whole cricket world is watching, you've just got one life.

"Therefore if you develop a partnership, you cannot afford to give it away." It was Imran and Miandad in the 1992 final, deliberately poking and prodding and defending. "We heard later that the whole Pakistani world was cursing us. But actually it was a plan. The moment we had wickets in hand, we went for a burst."

All that burst in the 1999 Pakistan team were the steel girders holding their nerves. Imran had feared and predicted as much. He was lambasted at home for being unpatriotic and in vain did he keep repeating that this was the most talented team Pakistan has produced. He has to accept that his political opponents will make capital out of anything, from his marriage to a Western woman to an absolutely correct World Cup analysis.

But it's only cricket. His impassioned foray into politics has changed his mind about sport. "Well, it puts it in perspective," he said. "I remember when I was a professional cricketer, the sport was everything. Now I look at it and it was a very one-dimensional life. I have enjoyed being here for this World Cup. It was a wonderful holiday. But I'm really an outsider now."

Far, far more important to him is the fact that 60 per cent of the population in the country where he has sworn to live and die have no proper access to drinking water. "Half a million children die of water-related diseases," he said. "Seventy per cent of the population are illiterate. Ninety per cent of the country has no proper sanitation."

When he was discussing cricket, it was with amused detachment. Now the leonine features are lit with sorrow and anger. "The ex-President of Pakistan reckons the Prime Minister and the opposition have siphoned off $1.5 billion each. When you think the total budget for the whole country is $12 billion, you understand the extent of the corruption.

"Here poor Peter Mandelson disappeared. Mandelson wouldn't even have made news in Pakistan for what he did. Forget about resigning. I mean, people would laugh if you said that is corruption."

But the logical question to put is how can one man change a culture, even if he was once a cricketer who scored 3,807 Test runs, including six centuries, and took 362 Test wickets. "But, you see, at least I'm trying," he said. "I know I'm an optimist and an idealist. Even if I don't do it, at least I'm trying."

Source :: The Electronic Telegraph