Nostalgia finds its origins in the Greek words ‘nostos’ (return) and ‘algos’ (pain). It is the longing for bygone days. Coined by Swiss physician Johannes Hofer in 1688, the word described the yearning displayed by Swiss soldiers who were separated from their families in the service of European monarchs.
Novelist Tom Clancy’s contention that the good old days are now echoes modern-day experts attributing nostalgia to psychological biases and a rose-tinted memory. Many the world over agree with this hypothesis. They have reason to, because their past acts as a barometer inculcating a sense of predictability to ever-better their lives.
Much longer life spans with greatly enhanced quality, rule of law and a delivering justice system are cited as an antithesis to those reminiscing the good old days. Giant leaps in health, education and scientific innovations are also enumerated. Sports, they contend, add colour and camaraderie to their collective lives.
To dwell on Pakistan’s early years with its many achievements promising a stellar future would need many pages. The diabolical way in which this future was forsaken requires volumes. In a few words, when rulers are consistently inept, the masses lose faith in the virtues of progress and nationhood.
Our all-encompassing descent was bound to affect our sports too. How could one expect it to remain an oasis, a tranquil island amid an ever-chopping sea? Having confined squash, hockey and much else to oblivion, cricket gave us the occasional yet drastically needed euphoria.
Mismanaged and fraught with self-interests, this saving grace too has abandoned us. Not having won a home test match since February 2021, we have also been relegated to our lowest Test ranking in 60 years. It was the predictable fallout of our mismanaged team’s unpredictable tag. An incapacitating one, we flaunt it as a badge of honour.
After the Bangladesh whitewash, Kevin Pietersen’s shocked query was “What happened to cricket in Pakistan – what’s happening there?” The fact is that no one here even cares to delve into matters so mundane. Far more important is that we raze down some unwanted enclosures at the Qaddafi Stadium, maybe to make it befitting for a horse and cattle show.
Like all coveted posts in Pakistan, with each new government, the PCB top post too is up for grabs. Resultantly, we have had a one-of-a-kind collage as chairman. Which other cricket board can boast one that includes a retired judge, bureaucrat, diplomat, on-service general, medical doctor, banker, ex-cricketer, talk show host and a politician-cum-businessman to manage the hapless sport?
Consistency of policy is an imperative of good management. Each chairman, once appointed, changes the management and coaches. We have had four PCB heads and an equal number of musical chair captains in the last two years. How can our cricket team, or for that matter anyone in Pakistan, focus on the job at hand with everything perpetually in a vertigo-inducing flux?
Having lost three series at a trot, Pakistan shall now face England in a three-Test series. Given the state of affairs with reportedly three captaincy contenders, groupings, players not disclosing their injuries and undermining each other, a competitive performance seems a mirage.
A national team reflects the weaknesses and excesses of those it represents. At the international level, sports are becoming ever competitive with no place or recognition for those with lack of delivery, will and discipline. George Orwell went so far as to describe sports as war minus the shooting.
For want of better ones today, we in Pakistan yearn for the good old days. Just one incident epitomizing those days was narrated by Islahuddin Siddique who led Pakistan in the 1978 Hockey World Cup in Buenos Aires, Argentina. The team manager was Abdul Waheed Khan, himself a hockey gold medalist of the 1960 Rome Olympics.
Europeans, having excelled at penalty corners, Abdul Waheed devised a counterplan built on complete offence. It had wingers penetrating the opposition’s half from both flanks and feeding the forwards with adept dribbling supplemented by passes. Pakistan with its pulverizing attacks scored 35 goals conceding only four in the tournament and won the World Cup with a 3-1 final win against the Netherlands.
The football world cup too was being held in Argentina the same year. So emphatic and successful was Pakistan’s hockey strategy that it earned the admiration of Cesar Menotti, Argentina’s football coach. He came to the ground and saw the Pakistanis play and train. Abdul Waheed explained his double attack strategy with its pass-and-go tactics.
Menotti, smitten by this wave of attacks game plan, adopted it as a module for his team. The rest is history. Argentina lifted its first football world cup with centre-forward Mario Kempes, the tournament’s highest scorer, converting the winning goal against the Netherlands. Menotti sent a telegram to Abdul Waheed in Karachi thanking him for contributing to Argentina’s win.
Psychoanalysts and experts might call it a myth or cognitive bias, but one thing remains uncontested. Those were the days when many like Menotti looked up to and sought to learn from Pakistan.
In The Tempest, Shakespeare says “Whereof what’s past is prologue; what to come, in yours and my discharge.” Having failed miserably at our discharge, one can only pine for the good old days. If only our prologue could have shaped what was to come; our present and future.
The writer is a freelance contributor. He can be reached at: miradnanazizgmail.com