- Joined
- Oct 2, 2004
- Runs
- 217,523
‘I’m old school ... Bodyline should be allowed’: Dinner with Shoaib Akhtar
There are 11 steps that lead down to Shoaib Akhtar’s basement underneath his house in a wealthy Islamabad neighbourhood.
Akhtar doesn’t greet the Herald and The Age at the front door but it’s certainly not because he’s being impolite.
The 46-year-old former Pakistan pace bowler hates stairs because he often has to crawl up them nowadays.
The world’s fastest bowler of all-time has his people escort us, past the barbed wire and a security checkpoint, as curious onlookers lock eyes from street corners. Our driver waits on the street.
Several security guards, toting guns, and other figures usher us down the stairs that Akhtar loathes far more than any lifeless pitch he’s ever bowled on.
Walking in, the first thing you notice is Akhtar. Not the cricketer, but Akhtar on the wall.
There are pictures with ball in hand, wearing a suit, donning sunglasses straight from the nineties, as well as the eye-catching feature item of the room.
It’s a framed picture over two metres tall of Akhtar, the first cricketer to break the 100-mile an hour mark (160.9km/h), celebrating a wicket.
It reads: “We miss you.”
Akhtar, who took 444 international wickets, frightening batsmen the world over for the best part of two decades, is puffing a guava vape.
In a couple of hours, he’ll be zipping this interviewer through the streets of Islamabad, just 40 kilometres from the small town of Morgah in Rawalpindi where he grew up as a child who was told he could never be a cricketer.
“I hardly watch cricket,” Akhtar says. “I hardly go to the grounds. It’s only my duty because Australia has come. When I see the ground, my knee starts to hurt.”
Akhtar remains quiet as his manager provides some background information in a room with half a dozen smiling Pakistani men.
Pepsi, Pakistan cricket’s ubiquitous sponsor, has been replaced tonight with Coca-Cola.
“I am so happy to have you here,” Akhtar says with a smile few batsmen ever saw.
Akhtar’s relationship with Australia seems the right place to start. He lived in Sydney, Perth and Adelaide for short periods of his life.
“The warmth I got from Australians was amazing,” Akhtar says. “Jeff Thomson’s house in Brisbane was like a second home to me.
“Sadly my mother passed away two months ago but she went to Australia and loved it. It’s the most fascinating place.”
Akhtar has a theory why Australians embraced a foreign fast bowler who was out to hurt their own. His first Test series against was against Australia in 1998, the last time Australian toured Pakistan before their current trip.
“[They loved] my aggression because they think I am a Pakistani who has the attitude of an Australian,” Akhtar says. “I gave it to them. In the 2005 series, me and [Justin] Langer got into a fight. Me and [Matt] Hayden got into a fight. It’s verbal, not physical. I wanted to display my talent [and show] that I am better than you.
“They wanted gladiators out there. Nowadays, they are very soft. I don’t think the aggression is as much there now. I don’t know why. I’m old school, like Ian Chappell. I want unlimited bouncers. Bodyline bowling should be allowed. Why not? I want some character.
“I’ve been best of friends with Brett Lee and I respected Ricky Ponting.”
Ponting and Akhtar in the same sentence triggers flashbacks to Perth in 1999. On a bouncy pitch, Akhtar delivered one of the fastest spells of bowling of his career.
Pakistan had just gone down 2-0 in Hobart, with Justin Langer and Adam Gilchrist helping Australia chase 369 in the fourth innings.
Akhtar wanted a square-up.
“During the Test match, I thought [if nothing is happening] let’s hurt somebody,” Akhtar says. “That’s why I bowled the fastest spell. I wanted to see if Ricky can match my pace and I was purposely bowling bouncers [to] see if I could beat him but before that I had never beaten him with my sheer pace.
“Had it not been Ricky Ponting … I would have chopped his [the batsman’s] head off because it was furiously fast.”
The circumference of Akhtar’s upper arms are larger than when he bowled thunderbolts.
But below the hips, Akhtar has the body of a 70-year-old. The monotonous run-aim-bowl-release grind for nearly 20 years of top-flight cricket has taken an enormous toll and means Akhtar cannot live a normal life.
But, importantly, he wants to.
As cups of local tea are served in fine china, Akhtar says he lives a five-minute drive from a popular strip of restaurants. He is Pakistan’s version of India’s great Sachin Tendulkar and is unable to pop up in public without being mobbed.
A minute later, there’s a booking at a Japanese fusion restaurant in Islamabad under the name of Akhtar.
As scary as they come on the field, Akhtar is a complete gentleman off it, determined to change perceptions in Australia that Pakistan is a place worth visiting, for cricketers and tourists.
The bad news? The 11 stairs.
“I literally crawl to the bathroom every morning,” Akhtar says, as he hauls his battered body up the outdoor stairs.
“Even today, my legs are locked. This is how my career started. The only year pain free was 1999.”
Akhtar says he’s had 42 injections in his left knee and 62 jabs in the right, plus nine operations and an upcoming knee reconstruction in Melbourne, where the cricketing icon will spend four weeks recovering in the city where he used to party until all hours of the night as an adopted Australian in the early 2000s.
“I could not walk until the age of six. I used to crawl,” Akhtar says. “The doctor always said to my mother, ‘Listen, this guy will be half-disabled. He will not be able to run like normal guys’.
“[The injuries] became bone on bone in my knees. Imagine the pain I went through. Man, it was terrible.
“I used to [fall] asleep in an ice bath. There were many times that teammates would wake me up and say, ‘It’s four in the morning, get out and get in the bed’. I used to hide my injuries. There was fierce competition and the media wouldn’t understand why I didn’t play regularly.”
Akhtar reverses his black Mercedes-Benz out of the driveway, takes a right, and whizzes into the Islamabad night.
The Rawalpindi Express is away, wearing a black hoodie and trackpants in familiar territory.
Perfume is sprayed into the air-conditioner before Akhtar parks the car. A young boy eating outside hits his friend on the arm, jaw wide open, as cricketing royalty walks to the entrance.
Big breath. Twenty-one more stairs.
Akhtar’s knees don’t agree as he eventually makes a beeline to his seat while diners cock their heads.
Akhtar washes down his grilled salmon fillet, served with plum dipping sauce, with a non-alcoholic cocktail while he navigates multiple selfie requests.
After discussing real estate, the future of Pakistan cricket and his successful YouTube channel, the dinner conversation spins to Shane Warne.
Akhtar is oblivious this Thursday evening would be his dear friend’s last day alive.
Many years ago, Akhtar asked Warne whether his career would be defined by how many wickets he took (there were 178 at 25.7 in Test matches, to go with 247 wickets in one-dayers and 19 in T20s).
“He said, ‘No Shoaib, people remember how you play the cricket’,” Akhtar says.
“It’s not how many wickets you have taken, it’s the way you played the game.”
There is one Akhtar comment, with the tape recorder turned off, that speaks volumes about a generous man adored by so many.
Akhtar says he wants to bowl one more time. Not in a proper match, but just for fun.
After months of gym work, he wants to feel the wind in his hair again and bowl as fast as he can, even while risking injury.
Why? To make his young children proud.
For now, every kid in Pakistan is just trying to trump the Akhtar’s magic mark of 161.3km/h. He grabs the bill and offers a firm handshake.
“I genuinely want to believe that somebody should be out there who is ready to break my record,” Akhtar says. “I’ll be the first person to hug them.”
https://www.smh.com.au/sport/cricke...inner-with-shoaib-akhtar-20220310-p5a3oi.html
There are 11 steps that lead down to Shoaib Akhtar’s basement underneath his house in a wealthy Islamabad neighbourhood.
Akhtar doesn’t greet the Herald and The Age at the front door but it’s certainly not because he’s being impolite.
The 46-year-old former Pakistan pace bowler hates stairs because he often has to crawl up them nowadays.
The world’s fastest bowler of all-time has his people escort us, past the barbed wire and a security checkpoint, as curious onlookers lock eyes from street corners. Our driver waits on the street.
Several security guards, toting guns, and other figures usher us down the stairs that Akhtar loathes far more than any lifeless pitch he’s ever bowled on.
Walking in, the first thing you notice is Akhtar. Not the cricketer, but Akhtar on the wall.
There are pictures with ball in hand, wearing a suit, donning sunglasses straight from the nineties, as well as the eye-catching feature item of the room.
It’s a framed picture over two metres tall of Akhtar, the first cricketer to break the 100-mile an hour mark (160.9km/h), celebrating a wicket.
It reads: “We miss you.”
Akhtar, who took 444 international wickets, frightening batsmen the world over for the best part of two decades, is puffing a guava vape.
In a couple of hours, he’ll be zipping this interviewer through the streets of Islamabad, just 40 kilometres from the small town of Morgah in Rawalpindi where he grew up as a child who was told he could never be a cricketer.
“I hardly watch cricket,” Akhtar says. “I hardly go to the grounds. It’s only my duty because Australia has come. When I see the ground, my knee starts to hurt.”
Akhtar remains quiet as his manager provides some background information in a room with half a dozen smiling Pakistani men.
Pepsi, Pakistan cricket’s ubiquitous sponsor, has been replaced tonight with Coca-Cola.
“I am so happy to have you here,” Akhtar says with a smile few batsmen ever saw.
Akhtar’s relationship with Australia seems the right place to start. He lived in Sydney, Perth and Adelaide for short periods of his life.
“The warmth I got from Australians was amazing,” Akhtar says. “Jeff Thomson’s house in Brisbane was like a second home to me.
“Sadly my mother passed away two months ago but she went to Australia and loved it. It’s the most fascinating place.”
Akhtar has a theory why Australians embraced a foreign fast bowler who was out to hurt their own. His first Test series against was against Australia in 1998, the last time Australian toured Pakistan before their current trip.
“[They loved] my aggression because they think I am a Pakistani who has the attitude of an Australian,” Akhtar says. “I gave it to them. In the 2005 series, me and [Justin] Langer got into a fight. Me and [Matt] Hayden got into a fight. It’s verbal, not physical. I wanted to display my talent [and show] that I am better than you.
“They wanted gladiators out there. Nowadays, they are very soft. I don’t think the aggression is as much there now. I don’t know why. I’m old school, like Ian Chappell. I want unlimited bouncers. Bodyline bowling should be allowed. Why not? I want some character.
“I’ve been best of friends with Brett Lee and I respected Ricky Ponting.”
Ponting and Akhtar in the same sentence triggers flashbacks to Perth in 1999. On a bouncy pitch, Akhtar delivered one of the fastest spells of bowling of his career.
Pakistan had just gone down 2-0 in Hobart, with Justin Langer and Adam Gilchrist helping Australia chase 369 in the fourth innings.
Akhtar wanted a square-up.
“During the Test match, I thought [if nothing is happening] let’s hurt somebody,” Akhtar says. “That’s why I bowled the fastest spell. I wanted to see if Ricky can match my pace and I was purposely bowling bouncers [to] see if I could beat him but before that I had never beaten him with my sheer pace.
“Had it not been Ricky Ponting … I would have chopped his [the batsman’s] head off because it was furiously fast.”
The circumference of Akhtar’s upper arms are larger than when he bowled thunderbolts.
But below the hips, Akhtar has the body of a 70-year-old. The monotonous run-aim-bowl-release grind for nearly 20 years of top-flight cricket has taken an enormous toll and means Akhtar cannot live a normal life.
But, importantly, he wants to.
As cups of local tea are served in fine china, Akhtar says he lives a five-minute drive from a popular strip of restaurants. He is Pakistan’s version of India’s great Sachin Tendulkar and is unable to pop up in public without being mobbed.
A minute later, there’s a booking at a Japanese fusion restaurant in Islamabad under the name of Akhtar.
As scary as they come on the field, Akhtar is a complete gentleman off it, determined to change perceptions in Australia that Pakistan is a place worth visiting, for cricketers and tourists.
The bad news? The 11 stairs.
“I literally crawl to the bathroom every morning,” Akhtar says, as he hauls his battered body up the outdoor stairs.
“Even today, my legs are locked. This is how my career started. The only year pain free was 1999.”
Akhtar says he’s had 42 injections in his left knee and 62 jabs in the right, plus nine operations and an upcoming knee reconstruction in Melbourne, where the cricketing icon will spend four weeks recovering in the city where he used to party until all hours of the night as an adopted Australian in the early 2000s.
“I could not walk until the age of six. I used to crawl,” Akhtar says. “The doctor always said to my mother, ‘Listen, this guy will be half-disabled. He will not be able to run like normal guys’.
“[The injuries] became bone on bone in my knees. Imagine the pain I went through. Man, it was terrible.
“I used to [fall] asleep in an ice bath. There were many times that teammates would wake me up and say, ‘It’s four in the morning, get out and get in the bed’. I used to hide my injuries. There was fierce competition and the media wouldn’t understand why I didn’t play regularly.”
Akhtar reverses his black Mercedes-Benz out of the driveway, takes a right, and whizzes into the Islamabad night.
The Rawalpindi Express is away, wearing a black hoodie and trackpants in familiar territory.
Perfume is sprayed into the air-conditioner before Akhtar parks the car. A young boy eating outside hits his friend on the arm, jaw wide open, as cricketing royalty walks to the entrance.
Big breath. Twenty-one more stairs.
Akhtar’s knees don’t agree as he eventually makes a beeline to his seat while diners cock their heads.
Akhtar washes down his grilled salmon fillet, served with plum dipping sauce, with a non-alcoholic cocktail while he navigates multiple selfie requests.
After discussing real estate, the future of Pakistan cricket and his successful YouTube channel, the dinner conversation spins to Shane Warne.
Akhtar is oblivious this Thursday evening would be his dear friend’s last day alive.
Many years ago, Akhtar asked Warne whether his career would be defined by how many wickets he took (there were 178 at 25.7 in Test matches, to go with 247 wickets in one-dayers and 19 in T20s).
“He said, ‘No Shoaib, people remember how you play the cricket’,” Akhtar says.
“It’s not how many wickets you have taken, it’s the way you played the game.”
There is one Akhtar comment, with the tape recorder turned off, that speaks volumes about a generous man adored by so many.
Akhtar says he wants to bowl one more time. Not in a proper match, but just for fun.
After months of gym work, he wants to feel the wind in his hair again and bowl as fast as he can, even while risking injury.
Why? To make his young children proud.
For now, every kid in Pakistan is just trying to trump the Akhtar’s magic mark of 161.3km/h. He grabs the bill and offers a firm handshake.
“I genuinely want to believe that somebody should be out there who is ready to break my record,” Akhtar says. “I’ll be the first person to hug them.”
https://www.smh.com.au/sport/cricke...inner-with-shoaib-akhtar-20220310-p5a3oi.html
