Shapoor Zadran clipped a full toss to the fine leg boundary. He celebrated by running almost as far as he had hit the ball, discarding his bat and helmet, and slumping to his knees in joy. Afghanistan had won their first ever match in the World Cup.
Much has – rightly – been made of the challenge Afghanistan overcame even to make it to the World Cup. Almost every member of the squad grew up in refugee camps in Pakistan. One Afghan player was killed by American troops in 2008. The country’s cricketing infrastructure lags behind its talent.
So perhaps there would have been something inappropriate about Afghanistan cruising to a maiden World Cup victory. Their win over Scotland embodied the qualities that define Afghanistan’s cricketers: guts, guile and sheer bloody-mindedness.
It could have been so much easier. Javed Ahmadi had been playing serenely but fell to a wholly unnecessary heave of Richard Berrington. For several seconds he did not move, so aghast at the shot he had played. His anaemic trudge off the field, with Afghanistan 85-3 in pursuit of 211, betrayed more than personal disappointment. It also betrayed a fear about what might happen next, how Afghanistan could fritter away a position of dominance.
Ahmadi had reason to be fearful. After making a breezy 21 against Scotland in Abu Dhabi six weeks ago, he fell playing across the line, leaving Afghanistan at 38-1 off 6.1 overs. 12.2 overs later, that became 63 all out.
Faced with an onerous task
Most of those at the Dunedin Oval wanted something similar to happen again. With good reason – the architecture, the street names, the whisky and the surrounding hills not to mention the history of Scottish settlers – they call Dunedin the Edinburgh of the South. There was no shortage of tartan on display, imploring Scotland to make some history of their own and, 5,765 days after their World Cup debut, finally record their first World Cup win.
Afghanistan were doing their best to help Scotland, too. Berrington and Josh Davey are admirable cricketers, but their medium pace bowling is not the sort that should induce fear in international cricket teams. Losing five wickets for 12 runs was less a collapse than an implosion. For a team of such abundant talent, Afghanistan are too often betrayed by a self-destructive streak.
Samiullah Shenwari is an extreme antidote to the batting impudence of many of his teammates, fastidious in his adherence to self-denial. After 90 balls of his innings against Scotland, he had amassed just 30 runs, austere stuff even by the standards of 20th Century Test Match batting.
But Shenwari’s batting does not always invoke a tuk-tuk stuck in traffic. He is a bizarre staccato of a batsman, veering from stonewalling to nonchalant destruction. And so it was here: 66 came off his last 57 deliveries as, through sheer force of will, he dragged Afghanistan back into the match.
The ask, though, remained an onerous one. Afghanistan needed 38 runs from their last four overs, with only two wickets in hand, when Majid Haq was entrusted with bowling the 47th over. He is wily and skilful and is probably the slowest bowler at this World Cup. Haq bowls at speeds as low as 44mph, so slow that they can cloud the minds of players who preach the ‘See ball, preach ball’ mantra.
'Coach asked us to calm down'
Not on this occasion. Haq’s first ball is flat, heaved magnificently over midwicket for six, a shot marrying timing and brute power. Perhaps unnerved, he follows up with a legside wide. Two of the next three balls go the same way as the first, savaged with disdain to the legside.
Suddenly the occasion has been transformed. Afghanistan now need only 19 more from 20 balls – less than a run-a-ball, so a situation that seems to allow Shenwari to rein himself in. The problem is that now the genie is out of the bottle. The exhilaration of three emphatic sixes does not lend itself easily to nudging to victory – especially when Shenwari has raced to within four of Afghanistan’s first ever World Cup century, and his first ODI hundred to boot.
Haq’s next ball is a little straighter than those Shenwari has heaved away. Attempting a reprise of the three thrilling blows, he harrumphs this ball down the throat of long on, and sinks to his knees disconsolate. An innings marked by such astounding self-denial – Shenwari has played out 99 dot balls – is ended by a moment of impetuousness gone wrong.
In disbelief, Afghanistan implore Shenwari to stay on the field, hoping that Haq has bowled a no ball or, even more implausibly, Scotland have failed to comply with the fielding restrictions. If either is true, Shenwari will be reinstated, but he has to leave the field, a man who has set up his country’s first World Cup win in three hours and, it seems, undone it all in a split second.
Somehow it does not matter. Afghanistan’s final pair nudge and heave their way towards the target, sealed with Zadran’s final flourish.
“When we won, we shouted,” Shenwari said. “Like one shout, but a big shout. Then the coach came and said calm down and it’s just one match.”
At every turn of their cricketing rise, Afghanistan have been lauded just for making it this far. The players are aware of how remarkable their feat is, but basking in the adulation of past feats holds no appeal. Even in their moment of World Cup glory, Afghanistan are restless for more success.
Tim Wigmore is among the authors of The Second XI, a new book on associate cricket, which includes contributions from Gideon Haigh.
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Much has – rightly – been made of the challenge Afghanistan overcame even to make it to the World Cup. Almost every member of the squad grew up in refugee camps in Pakistan. One Afghan player was killed by American troops in 2008. The country’s cricketing infrastructure lags behind its talent.
So perhaps there would have been something inappropriate about Afghanistan cruising to a maiden World Cup victory. Their win over Scotland embodied the qualities that define Afghanistan’s cricketers: guts, guile and sheer bloody-mindedness.
It could have been so much easier. Javed Ahmadi had been playing serenely but fell to a wholly unnecessary heave of Richard Berrington. For several seconds he did not move, so aghast at the shot he had played. His anaemic trudge off the field, with Afghanistan 85-3 in pursuit of 211, betrayed more than personal disappointment. It also betrayed a fear about what might happen next, how Afghanistan could fritter away a position of dominance.
Ahmadi had reason to be fearful. After making a breezy 21 against Scotland in Abu Dhabi six weeks ago, he fell playing across the line, leaving Afghanistan at 38-1 off 6.1 overs. 12.2 overs later, that became 63 all out.
Faced with an onerous task
Most of those at the Dunedin Oval wanted something similar to happen again. With good reason – the architecture, the street names, the whisky and the surrounding hills not to mention the history of Scottish settlers – they call Dunedin the Edinburgh of the South. There was no shortage of tartan on display, imploring Scotland to make some history of their own and, 5,765 days after their World Cup debut, finally record their first World Cup win.
Afghanistan were doing their best to help Scotland, too. Berrington and Josh Davey are admirable cricketers, but their medium pace bowling is not the sort that should induce fear in international cricket teams. Losing five wickets for 12 runs was less a collapse than an implosion. For a team of such abundant talent, Afghanistan are too often betrayed by a self-destructive streak.
Samiullah Shenwari is an extreme antidote to the batting impudence of many of his teammates, fastidious in his adherence to self-denial. After 90 balls of his innings against Scotland, he had amassed just 30 runs, austere stuff even by the standards of 20th Century Test Match batting.
But Shenwari’s batting does not always invoke a tuk-tuk stuck in traffic. He is a bizarre staccato of a batsman, veering from stonewalling to nonchalant destruction. And so it was here: 66 came off his last 57 deliveries as, through sheer force of will, he dragged Afghanistan back into the match.
The ask, though, remained an onerous one. Afghanistan needed 38 runs from their last four overs, with only two wickets in hand, when Majid Haq was entrusted with bowling the 47th over. He is wily and skilful and is probably the slowest bowler at this World Cup. Haq bowls at speeds as low as 44mph, so slow that they can cloud the minds of players who preach the ‘See ball, preach ball’ mantra.
'Coach asked us to calm down'
Not on this occasion. Haq’s first ball is flat, heaved magnificently over midwicket for six, a shot marrying timing and brute power. Perhaps unnerved, he follows up with a legside wide. Two of the next three balls go the same way as the first, savaged with disdain to the legside.
Suddenly the occasion has been transformed. Afghanistan now need only 19 more from 20 balls – less than a run-a-ball, so a situation that seems to allow Shenwari to rein himself in. The problem is that now the genie is out of the bottle. The exhilaration of three emphatic sixes does not lend itself easily to nudging to victory – especially when Shenwari has raced to within four of Afghanistan’s first ever World Cup century, and his first ODI hundred to boot.
Haq’s next ball is a little straighter than those Shenwari has heaved away. Attempting a reprise of the three thrilling blows, he harrumphs this ball down the throat of long on, and sinks to his knees disconsolate. An innings marked by such astounding self-denial – Shenwari has played out 99 dot balls – is ended by a moment of impetuousness gone wrong.
In disbelief, Afghanistan implore Shenwari to stay on the field, hoping that Haq has bowled a no ball or, even more implausibly, Scotland have failed to comply with the fielding restrictions. If either is true, Shenwari will be reinstated, but he has to leave the field, a man who has set up his country’s first World Cup win in three hours and, it seems, undone it all in a split second.
Somehow it does not matter. Afghanistan’s final pair nudge and heave their way towards the target, sealed with Zadran’s final flourish.
“When we won, we shouted,” Shenwari said. “Like one shout, but a big shout. Then the coach came and said calm down and it’s just one match.”
At every turn of their cricketing rise, Afghanistan have been lauded just for making it this far. The players are aware of how remarkable their feat is, but basking in the adulation of past feats holds no appeal. Even in their moment of World Cup glory, Afghanistan are restless for more success.
Tim Wigmore is among the authors of The Second XI, a new book on associate cricket, which includes contributions from Gideon Haigh.