Emotion Emotion Pakistan

Admit it. You got a laugh when Pakistan “revealed a style of play” in May. A new kit, a new player, a new mega-dollar trade deal, yes. But introduce a new style of play?

Perhaps you are older and were frankly skeptical. Pakistan, playing in a consistently relatable and consistently relatable way? Tell them you can’t ascribe a pattern to chaos or pack and sell rainbow bottles.

Some of you may have appreciated the fact that Pakistan, for once, was proactive and thought and talked about the type of cricket they wanted to play.

Shortly after, during a press barrage, more details were provided. This culture would stem from resilience, a national trait often attributed to Pakistanis, and the idea that Pakistan glows when pushed against a wall, that it burns brightest when it is darkest. The Cornered Tigers thesis, in other words, that Pakistan produces its most exciting and attacking cricket when it is most up against it.

Except now, in a crucial twist, this new training structure was trying to instill in players not to wait to be cornered but to be that tiger from the start.

Bowling has never needed much of a sale, of course. But even by Pakistani variety standards, this was an advert for a United Colors of Benetton attack from the 1980s. Almost every species of bowler was present: fast left-arm spin, fast left-arm right, left arm slow spin, right arm mysterious spin. All sorts of avenues and angles of attack available: high, low, new ball vim, old ball reverse, getting hit on the outside edge, getting hit on the inside edge, hitting stumps, hitting pads, getting caught on the slips, contain, attack and contain as an attack.

The fielding and receiving process will take time, though fair warning: there isn’t enough time in the world to accept the level at which Pakistan operates.

England are playing, and winning and dominating, the tests in a contagious way. It’s only natural that others would want to replicate, especially since in a schedule where more players are playing more white-ball cricket than ever before, it’s the pragmatic move.

Except this was planned, from the moment Arthur arrived in Islamabad in April and with Bradburn and the team’s management, they began to explain what they wanted. And that he did come from a genuine place of crisis.

They needed to do something, anything, and they did. All messages about pakistan road was reinforced in the pre-series camp for Sri Lanka (also attended by cue ball cricketers and the Emerging team).

Two sessions a day were organized, one for skill development and the other for game scenarios. Players were encouraged to develop shots they weren’t used to in the skill session. In the scenarios, they played 21, where the batsmen have to score 21 runs in a certain predetermined number of deliveries (always in at least one run-a-ball). But they are automatically discarded if they play three point balls in a row. Pakistan’s cap shot in this series hit Sri Lanka like a truck, but the cumulative cost of their running and attacking rotation was far more insidious. (And a useful by-product was that the bowlers played more patiently, not chasing the glory ball but building pressure.)

Whether they say it publicly or not, there’s a Bazball imprint to this, of course. Despite all the evangelising, England are playing, and winning and dominating the Tests, in a contagious way. It’s only natural that others would want to replicate, especially since in a schedule where more players are playing more white-ball cricket than ever before, it’s the pragmatic move.

Perhaps Pakistan were a little more refined about it, or played to their limitations, or with embedded conservatism, adjusting the pace particularly when they felt they were ahead of the game. But this is a detail.

The point of all this is to say that Pakistan was not wrong to win this series, and especially not in the way that they did. They decided that they were going to play like this. They wrote it and told us. They went out and practiced it. Then they went out and did it. It’s been forever since we’ve been able to say that about a Test Pakistan side (Misbah-ul-Haq’s Pakistan, in case you were wondering, though they never wrote press releases about that style of play).

In the end though, there’s a reason you might have laughed when you first heard about this. Or they were skeptical. Or they were so desperate for Pakistan to have a brand. Because you know this doesn’t happen; or that if it does, it can’t be sustained or institutionalized because that’s not how Pakistani cricket works.

Now, not even a day later, it is possible to foresee the ways in which the pakistan road fades or fails. Pakistan does not play another Test until December and then also in Australia where they have lost 14 consecutive Tests. Against that record, a rain-battered, bland, unambitious draw of whatever kind will count as a win. Then they don’t play another test until the following August. You can’t build brands if you don’t have any products in the first place.

To make changes to this setup, after this kind of victory, and just before the Asian Cup and the World Cup, would be an act of self-sabotage. That, some might point out, is also the Pakistani way.