A stroke of patience

Pakistanis are impatient. For us, success needs to be instant. Every time one of our teams takes centre stage, the result should go in our favour. No one cares about a transition period or gradually building a team towards eventual success.

Earlier this year knives were out for the hockey team that fared its worst in a World Cup — a dismal bottom place finish in New Delhi. Protests, retirements and new appointments followed but the results stayed the same. There were calls for the federation to undergo a revamp. Petitions were signed, press conferences organised and effigies burnt. Some players opted for a temporary break and some went into self-improvement mode, opting to rekindle the spark by turning their backs on Pakistan and participating in foreign leagues.

The Pakistan Hockey Federation insisted the Asian Games gold — and the 2012 London Olympics berth that accompanied — remained their primary target. Not many were prepared to listen, especially after fifth place at the Azlan Shah Cup and sixth at the Commonwealth Games. Worse than the results were the losses against India that complemented the humiliation. Even the hiring of a Dutch coach, with a whopping salary, failed to turn the fortunes around.

The voices still urged patience for the results that matter which, according to players and officials, were in the making. And as experience made a comeback to the squad, courtesy meek opposition, a rush of goals, and the oozing confidence that accompanied, allowed the nation to dream of the impossible. Pakistan edged past defending champions South Korea to play the final for the first time since 1990. The mighty neighbours suffered a shock defeat, presenting us with an easy ride to the podium.

With the achievement however, Pakistan hockey, similar to cricket, has set itself a dangerous precedent: to win every time they play.

© Faras Ghani 2010
Published in The Express Tribune Nov 27, 2010

Shattered windows that built hope

Drop-outs are seldom respected in any society. Spending one’s childhood, as a girl, on the streets, on the grounds, attracting the quizzed and questioning gaze and not worrying much about the complexion oppugns the very concept of our ‘conservative’ society. Confused individuals – defying the culture and its norms – running after unattainable goals, with limited backing, do not usually survive to tell the tale.

Unless, getting off a plane, you have a gold medal around your neck.

Never the one to give up on her dreams, Sana Mir, captain of Pakistan’s victorious women’s cricket team, planned to join the army, the airforce or the cricket team just to wear the uniform and a chance to represent her nation.

While the first two choices fell astray to poor timing, her intent on the streets, and the courage and confidence gained through shattered windows and scolding aplenty, ensured her crusade to make a name produced a bang.

“Everyone knew I was a bit different, never the type to sit at home and play with dolls,” said Mir.

“Even when my cousins were getting their mehndi done before Eid, I would be out playing cricket. And when I finally joined the Pakistan cricket squad, everyone thought that was the right place for me.”

Despite the elation that accompanied her inclusion in the squad, Mir’s road to glory included dropping out of university – despite being an above-average student – and opting, instead, for less greener, and less plausible, pastures: women’s cricket.

“It was a difficult choice to make, especially considering the image of women in sport at that time and the fact that I belonged to an army family.

“I didn’t even have anywhere to go at that time. I just needed practice, needed matches, time and outlet.”

The oozing determination was part courtesy Imran Khan’s efforts in 1992 with Mir praying for a chance to emulate the pathan’s feat and the podium stance. While the longing for a cup remains, the thirst for success, of a first-place finish, has been quenched for now. The route includes pooling in to buy cement as the street’s potholes became too dangerous for batting, taking up spin just to be able to play past sunset with a plastic ball, and surviving a stress fracture and the dreaded words of doctors.

With an incident-filled half decade behind her, the future, it seems, may offer much of the same.

“It’s really difficult to plan but I know that I want to pass on whatever I’ve learnt to the youngsters. Due to our culture, you play till you’re 28 and then you start your second life [get married]. We have an improved side, better facilities and a greater interest. I don’t know how long I’ll play for but when I leave, I want to leave a good team behind.”

World Cup qualification, second-round appearance in the mega event, Pakistan’s first away win, propelling the team to sixth in rankings and the Asian Games gold, Mir will leave a trail of unmatched achievements that will propel her into the ‘second life’ much satisfied.

© Faras Ghani 2010
Published in The Express Tribune, Nov 24 2010