The warm embrace of an Afghan win.

Imagine years from now if India makes the FIFA World Cup and wins a match. Yeah, that to the power of ten... no, who am I kidding, I don't know what Afghanistan must be feeling right now. Meet Nawroz Mangal who now opens the batting for Afghanistan - like his mates, he picked up cricket in the refugee camps of Pakistan. When Taj Malik (Afghanistan coach) spotted the talented Mangal, he straight away wanted to take him under his wing. But Father Mangal had other ideas, and his son making a living from cricket wasn't one of them. It took some cajoling for Coach Malik to convince Father Mangal to allow the boy to seriously play cricket. Much like in the Bollywood movie, Iqbal, the coach even stayed overnight to push the cause of cricket. Nawroz Mangal went on to captain Afghanistan. Food for cricket thought?

There are more than a few Afghan eateries in Delhi, imagine watching this game there - in Lajpat Nagar Central Market, under that sprawling chandelier where the TV usually blares Bollywood at an unforgiving pitch. How loud must the TV have been - how tight was the huddle - did they fire guns after the victory? Or is that something reserved for farmhouses in Delhi?

My other Afghan sightings are in the village opposite the Saket Malls or in the adjoining hospitals. They're all refugees in one of the world's biggest refugee cities. I feel compelled to sit and chat with an Afghan about cricket, about today's match. Feel some of their happiness, make it mine. Because right now, I want to feel even happier for Afghanistan. Just like our Prime Minister.

You may not watch all 100 overs but keep the TV on, the scorecard ticking. Even if you can't commit to seven hours, be there for the last 15-20 minutes - for the winning runs, for the losing wicket, even more so if two Associates are playing - such as Afghanistan vs. Scotland, with neither team having ever won a World Cup match.

I walked past the TV with Afghanistan at 70-something for two, walked past again, 97/7. I could have given up on them right there and then. But that is precisely the moment when both Samiullah Shenwari and I committed to sit in for the long, long haul. By far the best decision I've made all World Cup. Shenwari was as deadpan as Dhoni: leaving ball after ball, blocking ball after ball, relishing in the monotony of not committing to anything; knowing that romantic last over finish was more than 20 overs away.

His previous highest score was 82*. "He'd have to better that if Afghanistan want to get across the line" - someone in commentary, adding to the monotony. His first ODI was also against Scotland, in the ICC World Cup Qualifiers, 2009. That day he made 52(57), batting at seven. Afghanistan won that game by a country mile. His batting average against Scotland, 58, quite Dhoniesque.

Here was a player batting in the knowledge that if he waits it out long enough, there will be that one over when he can play and maybe even hit the jackpot. That over came. It was the 47th of the innings. It was as if Ross Taylor had possessed Samiullah Shenwari - six over cow corner, six over mid wicket, six over square leg, six over - NO! OUT. Falling four shy of a maiden ODI hundred only added to the tragic romance that is Afghanistan cricket, where nothing has ever come easy. Agonyistan for the next 16 deliveries with bad calls, near run outs and two boundaries, the second four sealed the game and our haemorrhaging hearts.

"First of all I will say I did my job, and my job was just staying at the wicket till late. And some of the other players didn't take responsibility, that's why they're out." - Samiullah Shenwari, February 26, 2015, Dunedin, New Zealand.

Even in the post match, Shenwari was as deadpan as Dhoni.

First published in daily O

Read more...

Return

Afghanistan Cricket Training Camp

Read more...

Return

Hunting Sidhu: The Alternative Cricket Movement

“Eh g**du! Have chor, yaar!”

This is what my dad would say to me, every time I watched cricket instead of studying.

I guess he won in the end. My parents crowbarred me into doing medicine, instead of my patented idea of sitting on my ass all day, and waiting for a million dollar idea to come into my head.

In fairness, it could have been worse – at least there was no family corner shop or pharmacy for me to be burdened with. And thank goodness that my parents weren't accountants.

As a kid in London, I couldn't get away from cricket. I was a die-hard, obsessive fan, constantly refreshing scorecards during my lunch breaks, and blessed with an uncanny ability to recall Sadagopan Ramesh's Test average and Indian opening combinations over the past decade.

Throughout my teens, I had idly mastered the art of shadow-batting in empty corridors, and right down to Harbhajan's 'stop-and-hope' follow-through, my shadow-bowling was coming along nicely.

Fast-forward a few years, and through several bizarre twists of fate, I find myself condemned to studying medicine for six years in a small town in the Czech Republic.

You will know the country formerly known as Czechoslovakia as famous for stunning architecture, The Velvet Revolution, and beer.

Expat students view it as infamous for mass-produced communist-era tower blocks, bone-chilling winters, gypsy-baiting and mullets.

Frankly, I would not have cherry-picked this location as a mind for young, curious minds to thrive. Yet, in practice, this relative adversity is what is needed to bring out the best in people. Many will go through our six-year course as relative zombies – gliding serenely through, as contented but as bored as they will ever be. There is an overwhelming feeling of 'meh' that engulfs our mini-community of 500-odd foreign students.

From watching the Kitply Cup on a shaky live stream, to playing Xbox through the night, to bingeing on four packets of instant noodles for dinner, my student life could not be deemed as 'enriching'. Frustrated, I eventually reached the stage of perennial ennui where enough was enough.

Combining my passion for cricket with my love for writing and growing social conscience, I decided to start the 'Alternative Cricket Movement'.

Thanks to Twitter and Facebook, I found 20 of the best bloggers going, and convinced them into submitting their finest work for a book: The Alternative Cricket Almanack 2011.

"So good, they made a cake out of it."

Our book is self-published, a collection of the finest articles you would never have read otherwise. The overall quality of cricket writing is at an all-time low – perhaps the avalanche of matches does not allow writers to even pause for breath – but I was determined to take a stand and show the world that there are passionate, immensely talented underground writers who are chomping at the bit for an opportunity to have their voice heard.

The quality of our book is there for all to see – there is an eclectic mix of articles, with witty satire interwoven with deeply personal anecdotes. As well as this, our original turns of phrase make for a totally different experience. Throughout the book, we are unapologetic in our honesty, a quality I feel that cricket journalists and commentators are lacking in.

We often get the feeling that many cricket writers and commentators try to be 'in bed' with certain cricketers, as well as pandering to public opinion – woe betide the evil man who even contemplates criticising Dhoni's defensive field settings. It's a wonder that some writers even have the time to put pen to paper, when they seem to spend most of their time fellating the player du jour.

Furthermore, we don't just want to lead the way in terms of cricket writing, but encourage others to do their part for a good cause. Therefore, I decided that all proceeds from our book would go to a good cause – in this case, the Afghan Youth Cricket Support Organisation.

Afghanistan is a country in need of a role model, and we have seen through the likes of Tendulkar and Murali that cricket is potent in terms of transcending politics. If we can unearth just one Afghan cricketer from a small village, who plays in a World Cup – ICC elitist snobbery notwithstanding – then he could be talked about for years, if he dismisses a Dhoni or a Yuvraj with a magic delivery, or hits consecutive sixes off Steyn or Malinga.

Kids would emulate their hero, and perhaps they would have some semblance of hope. Essentially, we are looking to inspire any number of young people with this scholarship fund.

No need to point out the unlikelihood and naivety of it all, but who's to say what can and can't be achieved? All great ideas started out as being preposterously ambitious. With pure intentions and public support, the sky is our limit.

And of course, in 2024, when our Afghan warrior hero strides up to collect his Laureus Sportsman of the Year award and/or Nobel Prize, his first words will be: "I'd like to thank my parents and dear friends, but you should all know: I did it for Sachin."

You can buy The Alternative Cricket Almanack 2011 – beri cheap – from Amazon (US and UK) and from Flipkart (India)

Read our blogs at AlternativeCricket.com, where you can read about Ian Chappell ending up in hospital after eating humble pie, and the now infamous Ugly Oscars. 

You can also follow us on Facebook and Twitter @AltCricket.

by Nishant Joshi

Read more...

Return