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Imran Yusuf offers advice to archetypal supporters of the Pakistan cricket team on the eve of the Twenty20 World Cup Final.
To the die-hard fan with an encyclopedic knowledge of Pakistan cricket who, every match, stares open-mouthed at the selection of Fawad Alam and asks, dumbfounded, ‘What is he doing there?’: Man, just get over it. It’s like the meaning of life, or one of Donald Rumsfeld’s 'known unknowns'. Just resign yourself to the fact that some things are forever beyond the understanding of us mere mortals.
To the guy whose girlfriend has developed a really annoying crush on Shahid Afridi: An Afridi 50 means we’ll probably win the match and be World Champions. An Afridi failure means your girlfriend will go back to seeing him as a floppy-haired loser. For you, it’s a win-win situation, so stop worrying and love the Lala.
To the grand-father who keeps saying ‘Test cricket is the only cricket I’m interested in’: Nobody believes you anymore, you’ve watched every game in the tournament and every time you watch a Test match you fall asleep within 10 minutes. Also, don’t think we haven’t noticed you following the Women’s T20 World Cup…
To the nervous wreck who keeps saying that Mohammad Aamir is too young to take the new ball and also to bowl at the death: Stop looking at his age and look at his performances. He’s been superb. And in any case, he might not be 17. The ages of young Pakistani cricketers are as dubious as those of old Hollywood actresses.
To the pseudo-intellectual who despises sports, dismissing them as charades diverting the masses from their real struggles, and claims to be reading in his room but is actually listening intently through the walls whenever voices are raised: Nothing matches sport for epic drama, narrative complexity, bodily intelligence, psychological strength and sheer fun. So put down your Albert Camus novel and join us in the TV room. And for what it’s worth, Camus once wrote that ‘what I most surely know in the long run about morality and the obligations of men, I owe to sport.' Oh, it’s not all sport you despise, only cricket? Well then, how about this from another certain favourite of yours, Harold Pinter: ‘I tend to think that cricket is the greatest thing that God ever created on earth.’ Enough said.
To the Khala who barely watches the match because she’s continuously saying duas for the team: Pakistan cricket is not that important. Besides, God created everything for all eternity, so one imagines He probably enjoys Test cricket more than T20.
To the young Khala with a glint in her eye: I don’t mind you talking about the appeal of certain players in the team, but please try to use a word other than ‘dashing’ for Younis Khan. And yes, we know that Malik used to be cuter.
To the patience testing bore who spends most of the game, irrespective of the match situation, saying, ‘But you never, ever know with Pakistan’: Perhaps that’s true, but at least one always, always, always knows with you, and what you’re going to say. Put some chilli chips in your gob and shush up.
To the young man watching with his in-laws: This is your chance to let your hair down and release all that pent-up aggression caused by endless takalluf. Spew out gaalis, jump and shout. Enjoy yourself! For one night only your mother-in-law will turn a blind eye, and who knows, maybe your father-in-law will finally take a liking to you.
To the young woman watching with her in-laws: During the match your worst fears will be confirmed. You weren’t being paranoid – they really are that weird.
To the nice person who knows nothing about cricket but is curious by nature and has a genuine anthropological interest in what’s going on: Don’t ask. Not today. I’m not being rude, I just don’t think the Twenty20 World Cup Final is the time to explain why it’s not LBW when the ball pitches outside leg-stump.
To the uber-nationalist who thinks it’s all about Pakistan, that our side is blessed with unique divine talents, that we’re only really playing ourselves because if we play well nobody can stop us, and if the other team wins, it’s only because Pakistan had an off day: That’s somewhat conceited when the opposition includes Mendis, Murali, Malinga, Sangakkara, Jayawardene, Jayasuriya, Dilshan ... (I’ll stop there. This is getting depressing.)
To British-Pakistanis: If we win, make sure you celebrate like there’s no tomorrow, because there probably won’t be for you. After blowing of all those horns, you’re all going to be locked up in prison for life on charges of noise pollution.
To the college student whose opinions seem suspiciously second-hand: We read Osman Samiuddin’s articles, too.
To the girl who loves to prove she’s one of the guys and (very loudly, so the whole room can hear), bemoans – and it is always a moan – Razzaq’s lack of pace and Kamran’s attempt to pull off too many pull-shots and Malik not clearing the field: We’ve noticed you only ever say negative things about the team – a clear case of trying too hard.
To the girl who really is one of the guys and actually knows her cricket inside out: Don’t worry about the girl above. We know who you are.
To the Pakistani-American kids who are here on their summer vacation and visiting family: Watch your language. Don’t say ‘pitcher’, ‘home run’ or ‘curve ball’, no matter how appropriate these parallels might be and however much they make you feel closer to your mother culture. Oh, and while we’re at it, it’s summer ‘holiday’, not ‘vacation’.
To the insecure middle-aged man who has always been indifferent about cricket and wishes he had more interest, but hasn’t watched a game since the last World Cup: Stop saying, ‘It’s ok. Misbah is still to come, he can win us the game.’ Just stop it. Misbah’s been awful all tournament and if nobody points this out to you, it's because they don't want to hurt your feelings.
To the serious Uncle who cautions against unbounded optimism and doesn’t believe we’re going to win even when we need 1 run off 38 balls with 7 wickets in hand: I know you’ve been burned by the Pakistan team so many times that you don’t want to make yourself vulnerable. But what’s the point of the game if you can’t loosen up and enjoy the moments as they’re happening? So chill out, smile with your family, cheer and chant alongside them. Be free. (However, this freedom does not extend to dancing. You are still not allowed to do that under any circumstances.)
To the guy who has recently found religion and now perceives it in everything he sees: When Pakistan win a match, it is not a victory for Islam and a triumph over infidels, just as, when we lose, it is not punishment from God.
To the Pakistani who is supporting Sri Lanka because of the wonderful time she had on holiday there, because the people there are so nice, and it’s a beautiful country: Why watch the match when there's a direct flight from Quaid-e-Azam International to Colombo at 21.30? Oh, how we will miss you. Do send a postcard. Cheerio.
To the friend who masks his inner passion, nervousness and juvenile hope with an aloof demeanor and smart-ass one-liners: Stop being ironic about everything. It’s alright to lose your cool and admit your heart soars and leaps and does somersaults at the glorious sight of an Umer Gul run-up.
To all of us: In 'Song of Myself', Walt Whitman writes, 'I also say it is good to fall, battles are lost in the same spirit in which they are won.' Win or lose, if our team play with passion and commitment, we should all applaud them for the heroes they are, and thank them for the joyous diversion they've provided over these past two weeks. (Yeah right! If we lose, see you at Liberty Market for a good old-fashioned dose of effigy burning.)
