Pakistan Cricket Board (PCB) Chairman Ijaz Butt is yet to reveal why Shahid Afridi, ODI captain since the 2010 Asia Cup, was sacked after leading the team to two back-to-back ODI series wins, as well as to the semi-finals of the 2011 World Cup. But it is becoming clear now that Afridi’s ouster was not a spur-of-the-moment decision and in fact the wheels had been set in motion way back before the recently concluded tour of the Caribbean.

Let’s look at what happened on the West Indies tour. Afridi had initially opted out of the West Indies tour, saying he needed a break and wanted to spend time with his family, but was eventually convinced by his father to go ahead. Pakistan started well, taking an unassailable lead of 3-0 in the five-match series, but lost the last two matches to a depleted West Indies side (though it was a tour of new faces for Pakistan as well). Afridi’s own performance was flat – he averaged just over 9 with the bat and 84.50 with the ball. There were reports that Afridi clashed with the rest of the tour selection committee (the coach Waqar Younis, vice-captain Misbah-ul-Haq and manager Intikhab Alam) over the selection of the final XI for the last two games. On his return to Pakistan, Afridi made the following comment in response to a query about said issues:

“Although the differences in team management are not such which could not be solved; I feel everyone should do his job and need not interfere in others’ work.”

Reacting to this explosive (sic) comment, PCB officials admitted that there were “long-standing issues” over selection matters but hoped they would be resolved when Afridi met the chairman. That meeting never took place, and the PCB sent Afridi a notice demanding an explanation for comments it believed were against the board’s Code of Conduct. Afridi replied to the board’s notice, downplayed the issue in the media and also called Butt and got assurances from him before leaving for a personal/fundraising tour of the US. Butt sacked Afridi as ODI captain while he was in the middle of his tour of the US. Afridi heard about it in the news, and after returning from the US, decided to quit in international cricket in protest against the current PCB administration.

We also know now that PCB selector Mohammad Ilyas and Shahid Afridi don’t get along, thanks to an ugly war of words between the two that’s being played out in the media.  Ilyas, better-known as the father-in-law of discarded Test opener Imran Farhat, was himself an opening batsman and leg-spinner. The media “debates” between Afridi and Ilyas took on an ugly tone these past few days, which is regrettable, but some of the revelations that have come through them are startling.

Afridi accused Ilyas of chumming up to Butt and conspiring against him. Ilyas, in response, agreed that he is close to Butt and called upon Afridi to show some respect to the board that has, in Ilyas’ words, stood by him through many controversies. Ilyas also admitted – nay, boasted – that he refused to sign off on Afridi’s name being included in the squad for the tour of the West Indies because he felt that Afridi was “not fit and wouldn’t do well on those pitches”. Think about this for a second. When the selection for the West Indies tour was being deliberated upon, Afridi had just returned from leading Pakistan to the semi-final of the World Cup in which he was the leading wicket-taker. And here you have a national selector who wanted to drop him from the team for the very next tour. Forget the captaincy!
No matter how big a critic of Afridi one may be, he did not deserve to be dropped from the squad on the back of that World Cup performance. An even more damning revelation to emerge from this exchange has been that Ilyas was the selector that the team’s then Security Manager, Colonel Najam, reported seeing with Mazhar Majeed in a cricketer’s room on the tour of England at a time when the players had been specifically told not to meet Majeed. It was also hinted that this might have been the reason Najam was fired, albeit belatedly (after the Zulqarnain Haider incident) from his role. The said report by Colonel Najam was submitted after the England tour, and no selectors have been investigated, let alone removed, since.

If you want to dig a little deeper, we can explore Afridi’s history as captain. He said he’s known of a conspiracy against him since the England tour, but I suspect he would have sensed it even earlier.

His first tournament as ODI captain was the Asia Cup in which Mohammad Amir was investigated for being on the phone in the dressing room – incidentally during a spectacular collapse the scorecard of which reads like Afridi was playing some other match. Kamran Akmal and Salman Butt were subsequently asked by the ACSU to submit their phone records. In an interview to Geo TV after Pakistan were booted out of the tournament, Afridi stressed that discipline was his primary concern and he would not tolerate any violations, a threat that we now know fell on deaf ears. Thanks to NOTW and Mazhar Majeed as well as Salman Butt’s post-ban TV punditry, we now know that the same players – convicted by an ACSU tribunal for spot-fixing – hated Afridi and wanted him to be removed. It was also reported that Afridi formally called a meeting with Waqar and then-manager Yawar Saeed to alert them about his suspicions regarding Majeed, telling the players to stay away from him.

His next assignment was the T20 World Cup where Pakistan were typically hit-or-miss, but somehow contrived a path to the semis where they were on course to win for 39 overs but lost due to a Hussey special. Details of text messages exchanged between Kamran Akmal / Salman Butt and Mazhar Majeed that emerged during the spot-fixing tribunal again suggest efforts that would have undermined Afridi’s captaincy. Colonel Najam reported that Mazhar Majeed was also “seen” on the tour.

Then, came the England tour, before which Afridi says he was forced by the board to return to Tests. He lasted one Test before he realized that wasn’t a wise decision and announced his retirement in the post-match presser in typically rash Afridi fashion and, in so doing, paved the way for the fixers to get their man, Salman Butt, in charge. We all know how that went down.

The point I’m trying to make – in an admittedly long-winded fashion – is that a few extra extras have not been the only harm to come from corruption and controversy: an undermined captain who was left with weak reason to trust his board was an underrated setback.

Speaking of a cricket board supporting their captain, the PCB announced the squad without naming a captain on multiple occasions, including the squad for the World Cup. This all but eliminated Afridi’s input in selection matters. It also created for him the embarrassing situation of being asked about his vision for Pakistan’s World Cup team at a time when he was unsure not only about getting the team combination that would execute his game plan, but also about whether he would even be captain come the next series.

Butt is yet to reveal why Afridi was sacked. Reports say it was his comments to the media about his issues with the coach that got him in trouble, but the chairman himself made the following comment after saying that his reasons for sacking Afridi as captain were solid.

“We know Afridi won two series and that is why we didn’t act then [during the tour]. We couldn’t do anything more during that tour. Right now anything more I say will cause more tensions.”

This seems to suggest that Afridi was sacked for something that happened on tour, most likely the much-reported selection spat between him and Waqar. The decision was announced after a report on the tour – and said selection spat – was submitted to the board by the manager Intikhab Alam, and before Waqar was summoned and met with the chairman to discuss the same. Afridi’s take on the matter was never requested, yet the chairman announced that he had “genuine reasons to sack Afridi.” It is ridiculous that such a big decision was taken without letting the concerned party know what the allegations were, let alone giving them the chance to defend themselves against them.

In a television interview, Afridi said that he tried for months to work through all the issues that were being created for him but got fed when the PCB chairman closed the communication channel. I don’t blame him. He has had his fair share of controversies but he remains a straight-talker in a country where it is increasingly difficult to speak the truth. He has asked to see the tour report which supposedly got him sacked and one can only hope he will get the opportunity to defend himself, albeit belatedly.

It is also hoped that the PCB shows a similar level of proactive intent when it comes to drafting a chapter in the Code of Conduct for the board’s “seniors”, some of whose last statements have included gems such as “Pakistan is safe for international cricket” and “Afridi is a scrap of paper from the street.”

Sana Kazmi is a reformed (read failed) computer scientist who has a serious tweeting-about-cricket problem.

The views expressed by this blogger and in the following reader comments do not necessarily reflect the views and policies of the Dawn Media Group.

"Virender Sehwag was smashing our best fast bowler around for fun, but nothing could put a damper on our excitement. We made it to Mohali!" —Photo courtesy Sana Kazmi

I don’t know if it was the ease with which Pakistan put away the West Indies in the quarter-final or the prospect of watching them end another unbeaten World Cup run – India’s then 4-0 record against Pakistan, ugh – but that Pakistan Day, I began to dream.

I had read earlier that day that the International Cricket Council (ICC) had promised to expedite the visa process for Pakistan fans. After we won, I called my best friend and partner-in-cricket-obsession and told her we had to go. If India lost their quarter-final to Australia a billion tickets would suddenly become available, and if they won, well, then we would be going to TGME (the greatest match ever). I’m not sure whether her response was more ‘are-you-crazy? Bewilderment’ or ‘OMG-let’s-do-this excitement.’

We had no idea where to start, but that was probably a good thing because we didn’t realize how hopeless our cause was until it was too late to give up.

Inspired by Ashley Kerekes making it to the Ashes thanks to a viral twitter campaign, we started a #getthegirlstomohali hash-tag on twitter asking for ticket and visa information, and secretly hoping for ridiculous favours. We had five days to get visas, find match tickets and get on a plane or a train or a taxi to Mohali. How hard could that be?

Pretty much all the information I got on how to make this cricket pilgrimage happen – from the link to the right visa form to where in Islamabad I could find a printer at 5AM – came from twitter:

-The Pakistan Cricket Board (PCB) has a visa-hotel-match-ticket package for $500 but you have to know one of their big-shots.
- The Indian embassy is issuing visas along with tickets if you have a contact in the High Commission (they didn’t pick up their phone from 10:30 AM to 3PM).
- If you have a visa, getting a couple of match tickets is going to be a breeze.
- Actually, you need a ticket to apply for a visa. There must be some tickets reserved for Pakistan fans.
- Even some of the journalists covering the event don’t have visas yet, applying at this point is hopeless.
- Just apply ASAP, I think you’ll get it.

You get the picture.

Our first breakthrough came on Friday when the kind Ambassador Husain Haqqani messaged on twitter saying he would try and help us get a couple of tickets. Now that I had more tangible hope of getting a ticket, I got another friend on board. We thought briefly about sending-in a rushed application immediately, but were advised that the better option would be to submit in person Monday morning, two days before the match. We made plans to get to Islamabad from Karachi and Lahore to kick off operation #getthegirlstomohali for TGME.

The next step was filling out the online Indian visa application form. Saying that the experience was frustrating would be as much of an understatement as saying Test cricket will miss Mohammad Amir: there was no “Go Back” option and the form kept dying on us thanks to some aggressive timeouts.

There were non-technical challenges too. We cleared the first hurdle thanks to the generous Dileep Premachandran, who agreed to be our sponsor but we still needed a place to stay and all the hotels in or near Chandigarh were sold out. Our visa application deadline was 0830 on Monday the 28th, so no hotel success by Sunday evening meant we were needed someone in India willing to write us letters inviting us to stay with them, along with the relevant documents.. We also needed to submit a photocopy of our yet-to-be-sourced match tickets.

It was a long shot, but if any of us didn’t believe in the kindness of strangers, we were about to change our minds by the end of this match. A sweetheart of a journalist in Delhi agreed to be our pretend-host, before another very resourceful and exceptionally kind stranger from Ludhiana tweeted to say he could get us a hotel booking. Another friend in Mohali emailed us a picture of his three VIP passes to the match and we were all set with the visa application requirements – thanks to three Indians we had never met!

The officer at the Pakistan Foreign Office responsible for forwarding our applications to the Indian High Commission was on his fifth paan and impatient for breakfast, but he went out of his way to help us. It turned out that the visa application I had spent the last three nights filling out had been the wrong form all along. Thankfully this one was offline so we finished it quickly, paid the visa fees and said bismillah and shukriya and got out of there.

We were told we would hear about the decision by that night so we went home and crashed for a while before we began searching for match tickets. We pushed our twitter campaign, messaged every cousin, high school-nemesis and ex-colleague who worked at or knew someone at the tournament sponsors or the PCB and e-mailed all online black-market ticket sellers. By that evening, we had been promised two tickets – one from the kind ambassador and another from a friend’s friend at Times of India. Just one more to go…

At around 8.00pm that night – 42 hours before the match – we got a call from the Foreign Office saying our visas had been approved: 10 days, for Chandigarh, Mohali and Mumbai (we hadn’t even asked for Mumbai!) but that they hadn’t been stamped, so we needed to wait until 11.00pm. This was great news but we still had to get those visas that night to be able to leave for Lahore the next morning and reach Mohali before the match. It was a race against time.

No updates from the foreign office until midnight, then a call saying my friends’ visas were there but mine wasn’t and wouldn’t be there till at least 11.00am the next morning. It pretty much meant game over for me. I couldn’t believe it. The girls said they didn’t want to leave without me. I told them they were being silly and they had to go. We were too tired to debate, so we decided to talk in the morning and went to sleep after what felt like years.

We had slept in till noon. It was the day before the match. There was still no word from the Indian High Commission about my passport. We decided to leave for Lahore either way, India or not, so we had a lazy breakfast, packed and headed out to pick up our passports, stamped or otherwise. On the way to the foreign office I got a call saying my passport was back. It was 1pm – too late to aim to cross the border that day. If we crossed the border at 9 the next morning, we’d be at the stadium by 2pm, which was the official start time for the match. Picking up our tickets from their various sources in India beforehand would be a challenge, but we decided to go for it.

The green gear we gathered for the match.

Our luck had turned again. In trying to get that third ticket through our hotel reservation lifesaver from earlier – let’s call him Superman – we landed a pass. We got on the bus to Lahore and started planning the fun stuff we hadn’t got time to think of yet, like whether we should wear green kurtas or personalized team jerseys to the match. We also needed flags and green paraandas, green chooriyaan, face-paint, stickers, green glitter and neon wigs. The bookshop on the rest-stop on the motorway to Lahore didn’t have flags or any of the other green gear we were looking for, but there were a couple of giant-sized Shahid Afridi posters (actually mobile-company ads) on the window. Of course we convinced them to give us one. Got to Lahore and packed for four days in one handbag that we would carry in to the stadium. No sleep again.

We reached the border at 6:45 and saw a few boys, in team jerseys, waiting around.

Superman had told us the border was opening early, at 6.30am, and if we crossed over by 7.00am, we would make it to the stadium, despite the five-hour drive. We reached the border at 6:45 and saw a few boys, in team jerseys, waiting around. A guard told us the immigration officials wouldn’t be there before 9.00am but thankfully, a friend had been kind enough to give our names to some officials at the border, so we pleaded with them to check those records, and they let us through. Immigration and customs on our side was pretty quick. We exchanged cash too – from a guy in a brown shalwar kamiz who had all the money in his shalwar-pocket, forget about receipts. (The rate was good). Shaikh Rashid Ahmed was in line ahead of us, beaming.

Crossing over to India.

We ran to the Indian side. It was kind of surreal, but we were too rushed to think about how big a moment that was. The Indian guard at the border didn’t smile, but he was quick, which meant he was nice. The chatty officers at registration told us we had enough time to get to Mohali (not) and reassured (sic) us that it wasn’t going to rain. Ran from there to customs, where, thanks to Superman, some guy already had our names on some be-nice-to-them list. Filled out another form, then borrowed face-paint chalk from the other Pakistan fans in line to colour our faces while waiting for our passports to be scanned and copied. A very long 15 minutes and we were through to customs, who were so helpful they told us we didn’t have more than the maximum amount of Indian Rupees you were allowed to carry. They also liked our scary Afridi poster.

A very long 15 minutes and we were through to customs, who were so helpful they told us we didn’t have more than the maximum amount of Indian Rupees you were allowed to carry. They also liked our scary Afridi poster. That was it, we were in India!

That was it, we were in India. There were about three dozen taxi-wallahs, all with “Special Permission for Pakistan WC” signs posted on their cars, each of whom insisted we go with him. We borrowed a taxi-wallah’s phone to call our taxi-wallah – he was clearly far away but insisted he would be there in two minutes and that we shouldn’t let the taxi drivers there mislead us. We waited about 20 minutes, which we spent haggling unsuccessfully with the taxi-wallahs to bring their rate (Rs.8,000) down to our pre-arranged cab rate (Rs.3,200). A couple of uncles in team jerseys and sunglasses inspired by Waqar Younis circa 1992 had just crossed the border with a man who looked like a driver for a fancy tour package. We acted fast and asked them if we could share a ride with them to the match. They agreed.

Fifteen minutes into the ride, we discovered that they had three extra tickets that they were trying to foist upon a reluctant golf buddy who lived in Mohali. With every passing minute and every call to our ticket sources in Ludhiana, Chandigarh and Mohali, we knew we wanted those three tickets more and more: they were all for the same stand and they were all in that car. We would feel terrible about not using the passes that our friends had worked so hard to secure for us, but unfortunately there was just no time for us to pick them up. So we spent the next four hours trying to convince our new Lahori friends that we deserved those tickets more than some guy who was playing golf on the day of an India-Pakistan cricket match and was going to cheer for the wrong team anyway. They couldn’t believe we had crossed the border without tickets. (“Who are you guys? Hide your wallet, KP!”) They also didn’t understand that anyone could want to go watch a match that badly: one of them (the golfer) had considered going straight to Mumbai when he got his visa and the other left – get this – seven tickets at home. I don’t remember how we did it in the end, but we managed to prise those tickets out of them. (“But we came all the way from Karachi and we haven’t slept in four days and… okay ask me anything – anything – about cricket!”).

Happily seated on the steps between aisles.

We reached the stadium a few overs late and had to look around for seats before finally settling down next to the families of Wahab Riaz and the Akmals. Virender Sehwag was smashing our best fast bowler around for fun, but we couldn’t stop smiling: we made it to Mohali!

Sana Kazmi is a reformed (read failed) computer scientist who has a serious tweeting-about-cricket problem.