I failed the Tebbit test a long time ago. I was taken in by Shoaib Akhtar’s R‑rated speed, then locked up by the madness of Shahid Afridi’s boom‑boom‑or‑bust spirit. So, despite spending most of my life in England, my heart has always belonged to Pakistan’s cricketers. Maybe there’s something there in wanting a connection to a family far away, some deeper diasporic stuff about a never-ending search for identity. Or maybe it’s really this simple: Pakistan have produced plenty of the game’s most captivating cricketers. When it all comes together – the ball reversing or turning both ways – it’s a ride you never want to get off.
The worrying part? It hasn’t clicked for weeks, months, years – and the grimness is reaching new levels, the past fortnight particularly depressing for anyone with an emotional stake in Pakistani cricket.
