Sarfraz Ahmed may not be technically sound, according to our columnist, but he has been the best in the world on current form. Ishara Kodikara / AFP
Sarfraz Ahmed may not be technically sound, according to our columnist, but he has been the best in the world on current form. Ishara Kodikara / AFP
Sarfraz Ahmed may not be technically sound, according to our columnist, but he has been the best in the world on current form. Ishara Kodikara / AFP
Sarfraz Ahmed may not be technically sound, according to our columnist, but he has been the best in the world on current form. Ishara Kodikara / AFP

What it means when Pakistan’s Sarfraz Ahmed is better than AB de Villiers


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Some people love it when life becomes as difficult as it can be. That is the moment they thrive, an inner constitution awakened by the prospect of a challenge that threatens to overwhelm them.

It is a curious psychology, but it is a rare and precious way to be, especially in sport where handling pressure often seems to be about putting things in simple perspective.

For example, as Sarfraz Ahmed walked out late on Friday in Galle, with Pakistan 96 for five and more than 200 runs behind Sri Lanka, he may not have felt the pressure others in that situation might.

Given the innings he then produced it is fair to say he felt no pressure. Or, if he had, he used it to define his response and apply pressure rather than succumb to it.

It looks high risk, especially to Pakistanis more accustomed to years of watching pressure draw the opposite response. In other words, batsmen retreating slowly and painfully into their shells before, inevitably, disappearing.

Redirecting pressure is not that high risk these days because it is the way of modern batting: counter-attacking is the new defiance. There is no predicting how an individual reacts to pressure or how much an individual can take.

Maybe 96 for five was not really pressure to a player who grew up under the strain of having to hide his obsession with the sport from a disapproving father. As a child, trying to find ways, as Sarfraz did, to keep that little lie was probably a big deal.

Almost every time Sarfraz has come to bat, a game has had to be shaped, or his career ­secured.

Even now, having averaged nearly 74 in Tests since January 2014 and 34, with a strike rate of 91, in ODIs, there is always the impression that three good balls over the course of a series and Sarfraz could be gone.

A few more innings like his 96 in Galle, on the other hand, and it cannot be long before talk resumes of him being Pakistan’s next Test captain.

Sarfraz’s knife-edge cricket can be traced back to one of his influences, Moin Khan (as can the careless glovework, sometimes).

More readily, and with particular respect to the circumstances in which he has played his best innings, it is reminiscent of Asif Iqbal. A crisis would focus Iqbal like nothing else.

Sarfraz has turned in some extraordinary performances, all but unmatched. Consider that his Test average since January 2014 is higher than that of AB de Villiers when the South African has kept wickets.

Three innings against Bangladesh apart, all have come against quality Test attacks.

Pakistan players do not tend to figure prominently when cricket hands out its annual awards, but Sarfraz’s contributions — the setting alight of the chase at Sharjah against Sri Lanka, the 80-ball hundred against Australia, the 49 against South Africa in the World Cup, the hundred thereafter — suggest no other player in the world has been as instrumental to his country’s performances.

Sarfraz’s efforts have also come consistently when there has been pressure on his position, enhanced by the pressure that comes from playing for a team as brittle as Pakistan.

In the game at present, it is difficult to think of any more influential cricketer — let alone keeper-batsmen — than Sarfraz.

osamiuddin@thenational.ae

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