Karachi Chronicles Chapter 17

One of the most important, yet over looked aspects of cricket is umpiring. Being an umpire is a tough and often thankless job. Spending the whole duration of play on the field, unlike me waiting around for hours before going out and snicking off or leaving one on middle for a blob, takes immense concentration. All while making split second decisions between the lulls in action and also trying to keep the peace. With every decision you can’t please everyone. For example, each appeal shout ends up in either a happy bowler and an angry batsmen or vice versa.

On our trip, we were very lucky to be accompanied by an experienced umpire. Denis Smallwood, from Western Australia, who made the jaunt over and was a welcome edition to the touring party. Also know as “DK,” after the one and only Dennis Keith Lillee, a name he gained during an earlier incarnation as a pace bowler terrorising batsmen. During the trip, he managed to impress so much that he was awarded the honour of officiating in both the Semi and Grand Finals. No mean feat in itself, but it also meant he had the distinction of standing alongside Aleem Daar, the most capped test umpire in the history of the game.

Aleem was a character himself, with a great sense of humour from a life well travelled. I first encountered him during breakfast one morning at the PC Hotel. We had a brief chat and shared a quick laugh. Our next meeting was on the field for our semi final, against Pakistan at the National Stadium. Unfortunately, after bowling first, we were on the receiving end of a 400 run total, led by a brutal 195 from Abdul Razak. It wasn't the best fielding effort from us and I think the weeks of playing in tough conditions finally came to show. We dropped at least ten catches and were never really in the game at any stage.

Like every other bowler I received a fair bit of tap. Although my first over only went for 3, all of them wides, no one would have noticed this due to the rest of the carnage. Persevering at second change, I had two chances dropped, which were followed up by sixes from the surviving batsmen. One was off the dangerous Tariq Hoon, who I deceived with a slower ball but, alas, the chance was grassed at long off†. Not one to give up, I continued to push on and try to somehow make an inroad. With the game well and truly slipping away, our title chances looked very unlikely. Still wicketless on the National Bank Stadium, I was becoming disheartened by the missed chances but continued to dish up cannon fodder in the hope of achieving a breakthrough.

Finally, after toiling away, I chucked in another back of the hand slower ball. It skidded through low and live appeared, at least from front on, to be smashing the batsman on the shin, right in front of the pegs. Aleem raised his finger towards the sky and I celebrated like it was the last time I’d ever play on live television in the Karachi National Stadium. Later on watching the highlights, I was disappointed to hear the commentator didn’t share my enthusiasm. I guess he’ll never understand how much it meant to me just to be in Pakistan, let alone get to play on these grounds against such distinguished opposition.

What he also wouldn’t have known, is that as I collected the ball off Aleem after the wicket, he once again gave me a glimpse of his sense of humour. He sarcastically joked to me, “at least I can help you because it doesn’t look like your team mates will.” We both chuckled, before I strolled back to the end of my mark. I remember feeling relief at finally getting a wicket on such a famous ground and also disbelief at having it confirmed by such a legend of the game. I also knew there would be people talking it down, which was confirmed later from things I witnessed online and heard in comments*. What they missed in all the trash talk, was that a guy from nowhere, who was a nobody in the cricket scene, just got to live out a childhood dream.

Such is the reward for daring to travel to a place like Pakistan. In life, nothing of any worth generally comes without hard work, compromise or risk. For a legend of the cricket establishment to grant me that one small victory, a win on an otherwise fruitless day under the sun, was worth the trip alone. Imagine telling the young boy, who used to sit in the very same room where I received the call to head to Pakistan, one day you will get to play on a test ground. Not only that, all your family and a few of your friends will be watching while you celebrate you’re first wicket on an international standard ground. Bloated figures aside, this is the definition of living a dream, an absolute moment of a lifetime.

Turning at the top of my mark, I knew the game was still probably gone but at least I had something to show. Now filled with relief, I must admit, up until that moment I was pretty tightly strung at my dearth of wickets on this prestigious ground. Once that wicket finally came, I could have happily packed my kit and walked off into the cricketing sunset. After all the years of training and straining the body, it felt like I didn't need to try and prove anything to myself anymore. As a team player I was dirty that we were getting absolutely dominated, but as an insignificant dot on this planet this was a small personal a win.

To continue off on a slight tangent, it should also be noted that this is all part of being a pace bowler that most who don’t do it might never fully understand. To get the extra few percent out, takes a great deal of physical and mental excursion. Often the ensuing adrenaline spike is just like taking a drug. For a few seconds after a big moment your head is pounding and all rational thought escapes your body. For the next couple of moments there are no deep conceptions it is pure instinct, existing in a basal, primal mode. This spike then rapidly disappears and you are once again confronted by reality when it vanishes just as quickly as it surged up. Just like the moment of clarity after a big night out, you are then left to deal with the consequences of your actions.

Often to an observer, much like the designated driver watching everyone else on a bender, your actions can be judged in a negative light. Not to make excuses but this, combined with playing on a stage much bigger than I’ll ever experience again, led to a few over the top celebrations. Once again it’s easy to judge but maybe try seeing it from someone else's perspective before you completely slate anybody for putting their heart on the line for their team. In this case, with the dust settled I have no regrets about displaying my absolute pleasure for the privileged situation I managed to find myself in.

One other final part in this tiny tale that makes it even that more comical is my general dislike for LBWs. Even though I get a few wickets this way, I’m more often than not triggered at the tail of the order. Often the game is decided so the umpire probably just wants to pack up and get the hell out of their. In reality and in all seriousness, most of the time I should probably have just used my bat instead! However, some days I wish the LBW rule wasn’t part of the game or at least tightened up a bit more, as it would at least rule out a fair few controversies. Anyway, that’s more of a general thought than a suggestion and I guess it’s a bit weird for a bowler to have an aversion to LBWs anyway.

I guess this just goes to further underscore how difficult the job of umpiring is. Throughout our tour we were lucky to have many great, experienced umpires. So thanks to Dennis, Aleem and all the other umpires that officiated during the tournament. In future, I will continue to leave the tough decisions up to the officials and stick with trying to make everyone's life easier by just hitting the pegs instead.

† As I mentioned in the last chapter, no one means to drop them, it's just part of the game sometimes.

* To be clear, this wasn't any of the touring members.