The one-off splendours of Pakistan’s captain Inzamam-ul-Haq offer a spicy tang to England’s first post-Ashes Test match which begins today in his hometown of Multan. The contrast with that soft-showered, gold-leaved autumn evening of hurrahs at the Oval seven weeks ago will be immense. Ancient Multan pitches its wicket on the very edge of the Punjab desert where sands storm, a battering heat pervades every pore, and spiritual mysticism permeates every sense. The Haqs have long been landowners of style and importance there; the batsman’s rich deeds make him the venerable city’s undisputed monarch, the nawab; Inzy is, if you like, Sultan of Multan.
Ursine or pachyderm, take your pick — big bear of a man with dozy tread and sleepy eyes, Inzamam is the very antithesis of the pressured pro sportsman, those frenzied pepped-up iron-pumpers who inhabit even the furthest pavilions these days. He does not pop vitamins, guzzle water by the gallon, sprint laps of the field for fitness, or strain in gymnasium sweatshops. Inzy is, simply, the bespoke master batsman, the aristo artist of cultured patrician charms and tranquil ease. Often he seems too haughty even to amble his 22-yard runs; but of today’s Test match maestros, only Lara, Tendulkar and Dravid have scored more than this man with the Multani’s patience, soft humours and slow smile. Seldom is the grizzly roused — although once he was for threatening (Cantona-like) a dolt in the crowd who kept barracking him as ‘the fat aloo’ (potato).
The sparklingly fresh young Indian cricket writer Rahul Bhattacharya lyrically hymns: ‘For size, Inzy’s outward peace and, sometimes, inner rage, links him in my mind always to the Pacific Ocean.’ At the crease, the drowsy eyelids shield a kestrel’s eye.
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