Sadly, it appears that the Pakistan Cricket Board are set on dispensing with the certificate-lacking coaching and man-managerial talents of dear, avuncular
Mohsin Khan, a man who, with the phlegmatic support of Misbah-ul-Haq, has restored a
sheen of sanity, order and hope to one of the game’s great cricketing cultures
as it emerged from perhaps its darkest hour. Given that success, the only sensible
thing to do was bring in Dav Whatmore tout de suite. It is therefore a fitting moment to select an All-Time XI of Khans
(to play an imaginary game against The Smiths, maybe...no, not that Smiths) to celebrate Mohsin’s all-too-brief tenure.
Unfortunately, a few of the more obvious names failed to make the
cut. Firstly, Imran Khan, widely regarded as the greatest Pakistani cricketer
of them all and certainly its leader nonpareil, fails to get in. Ask Ijaz Butt,
our Chairman of Selectors, why that might be.
Zaheer Khan also doesn’t make it. As gladdened as the heart
is that the religious homogeneity of the sport’s team of a pious nation is rendered
impure (as indeed was Pakistan’s, with the pre-conversion Christian, Yousuf
Yohanna, and the Hindu, Danish Kaneria, who possibly venerated the goddess Vishnu,
judging by the number of pies in which he had fingers), there is no place for
Zed.
Talking of Danish, Jutland’s second greatest seamer (after
the mighty ‘Blood-Axe’, Ole Mortensen),
sometime England
In the end, we went for an eclectic mix of talents. You be
the judge.
(1) Jahangir Khan
When it comes to Pakistan
(2) Amir Khan
Cousin of the wild and whippy Fabio
Coentrão lookalike, Saj
Mahmood, the pugnacious Amir’s speed on his feet and ability to duck and dive make him the
ideal opening partner for JK.
(3) Simon Khan
I was once told that cricketers should never play golf on
account of the different swings of the tool (pipe down, Carry On fans) sending confusing
messages to the hands. Alas, I turned out a mediocre batsman. If my pitch ’n’
put is any indication, I could have been a genius golfer. Life’s Garden of Forking Paths:
decisions made, futures never lived…
(4) Shere Khan
When Imran Khan gave his famous, nation-inspiring “fight
like cornered tigers” speech midway through the 1992 World Cup, prompting a
streak of victories that took them from the brink of ignominious exit to an
evisceration of a decent England
(5) Chaka Khan
When Chaka Khan burst into the national conscious – sorry,
let me re-phrase that (I’ve just been trying to pitch ghastly, insincere, and
largely pointless cultural zeitgeist pieces and have thus been writing
overblown sentences about fluff for buzzvibezzz magazine): When Chaka Khan
(…Let me rock ya / Let me rock ya, Chaka Khan / Let me rock ya / that’s all I
wanna do) had a couple of pop-hits on that
radio in the 1980s, tunes that would have drilled their way into the cranial
lobes of anyone sat in a van or a factory aurally forcefed the depressing
soundtrack of Radio 1, she sounded to my imagination like an elfin, svelte
goddess. Not so. Despite, ahem, large lungs lending the stock quality of the
stock bowler, she’s probably more suited to giving it some Humpty in the middle
order – although she’s also pretty adaptable, too [make up gag based on ‘I’m
Every Woman’], just in case Shere Khan nicks off and the ship needs steadying.
(6) Genghis Khan [c]
Despite the regal bearing and unifying charisma of Imran
Khan, the obvious choice for captain is Temujin, aka Genghis Khan, himself unifier
of the Mongol tribes, pre-requisite of his imperial drive. Gengho is chosen not
only for the outstanding ability to array elements in an open space (the very
touchstone of cricket tactics, of course, and a trait common to all nomads of
the steppe), but also his pitiless stance on indiscipline. Since the speed and
range he showed in conquest lend themselves to bowling and middle-order hitting
respectively, he is clearly an all-rounder of rare gifts, so slots in at six. Or
wherever the fuck he fancies, to be honest.
(7) Oliver Kahn [wk]
With his Planet of the
Apes chic, and displaying all the restraint under pressure and humility
that one expects from German goalkeepers (cf. Lehmann, Jens), Kahn is a natural
‘keeper, an ideal gloveman. Could probably jibber-jabber and schieß-sprache at
the batsman all day, too.
(8) Kublai Khan
Gets in on account of (a) funding the ground and pavilion
out in Xanadu, and (b) being the grandson of the captain. Bowls decent leggies,
too – albeit perhaps not as good as ol’ Gengho reckons.
(9) Shahrukh Khan
Bollywood actor. Owner of Kolkata Knight Riders. From what I
can glean, is very, very good at having his picture taken and waving at the
camera. Just about manages to suppress the ‘I cannot believe my fucking luck’
smile from his visage, too, so gets in as master of spin: off breaks, to be
precise.
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(10) Khan Noonien
Singh
Genetically engineered superhuman tyrant familiar to Trekkies
the world over. The Christian symbolism of Star Trek is well known (Captain Kirk), so that would make Khan a devil
figure, cast out and seeking vengeance – essentially the mentality one is after
in a new ball bowler.
(11) James Caan [vc]
Not the supremely capable of plastering a charming smile
on his face to hide his moneylust entrepreneur from Dragon’s Den who helps the country of his birth (where he was given
a name, Nazim Khan, that he felt was perhaps just a bit too Urdu for business)
by offering to buy babies from folk stricken by the floods, but the star of
Stephen King adaptation Misery, Rollerball, and The Godfather, where he memorably portrayed the volatile and
violent Sonny Corleone. This hot-headedness and familiarity with the psychology
of highly dangerous hard-ball games make him primo new conker material.
And there you have it. Thoughts, etc?
4 comments:
Mick Karn: late of Japan, and sadly (and recently) late of this mortal coil (the state of being, not the group). Player of warpy fretless bass behind David Sylvian's underblown vocals. Such bass playing is one of many phenomena that appeared beautiful and revolutionary in the early 1980s, but by the end of the decade became repetitive and tedious, eventually becoming "iconic" of the era - to the extent that to dislike the phenomenon is now such a cliche that it is almost as annoying as the phenomenon was in the first place. Much like David Gower's wafts outside the off stump.
Thanks, Jon. Was at Trent Bridge today in the library and the Notts historian, Peter Wynne-Thomas, told me about a gentleman of the 20s and 30s who, as was common in the era, raised mercenary teams of internationals to play county sides in bona fide first-class fixtures. He had a ground on Loughbrough Rd, West Bridgford (still there, PWT recently lobbied for pavilion to be restored not razed). Name? Sir Julian Khan, recently described in some book or other as "the worst ever first-class cricketer".
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