Return to Pakistan a welcome addition to strong history - The West Australian

The first time I arrived at Lahore airport a barely-controlled air of hysteria developed in the arrivals lounge as the passengers disembarked the Pakistan International Airlines flight from Delhi. It had nothing to do with me, or most of the other couple of hundred passengers almost delirious at being on the ground after a rollercoaster flight, but was generated by the sight of Pakistan Test umpire Khizer Hayat shouldering his way through the crowded space. Hayat was recognisable because he wore a bottle green blazer with large gold letters spelling out the words Pakistan Umpire around an even larger star that might have doubled as a bulls-eye if you were that way inclined. Ricky Ponting might have been. Hayat was the umpire who had fired him at the WACA Ground a few months earlier. Ponting was four runs short of a debut Test century that was curtailed by a Chaminda Vaas lifter that struck him at the top of the thigh pad and probably would have missed the stumps by 50cm or more. No DRS of course. Hayat’s welcome at Lahore airport was evidence that cricket, or cricket umpires at any rate, had a very prominent role in the daily tapestry of this absorbing, hospitable, violent, poverty-stricken, corrupt, welcoming, fascinating and multi-layered country. It was 1996 and Australia were about to play the World Cup final against Sri Lanka at the massive Lahore concrete bowl known as Gaddafi Stadium. I had already been to Pakistan a couple of times during a long trip through the sub-continent that coincided with the World Cup, partly as a working holiday and partly to prepare for the next couple of decades bringing cricket news and stories to the readers of The West Australian. Sadly, few of them have been from Pakistan despite a cricket relationship between the countries as eventful as that of any Test nations. The only US president to watch Test cricket live was Dwight Eisenhower who was present at Karachi in 1959 when Pakistan eked 104 runs from a full day’s play against Australia on a matting pitch. No president has dared return to the game since then. Pakistan were a full member and regular host of the cricket family throughout the second half of the 20th century, a nation that mostly welcomed visitors with a level of warmth and generosity nearly unmatched in the cricket world. Visiting players might have had their moments with umpires (Faisalabad 1987: Mike Gatting v Shakoor Rana) or curators (Faisalabad 1980: Greg Chappell set out to bat for all five days on a highway, failed by just two days but gave all 11 players a bowl in Pakistan’s only innings, and never toured the country again) or even illegal bookies and their representatives (Karachi 1994: Salim Malik v Shane Warne) but the tours were nothing if not memorable. Australia couldn’t match Sri Lanka in that World Cup final, getting caught by the dew and an Aravinda de Silva masterclass, but they were back two years later when Mark Taylor equalled Don Bradman’s Australian record 334 and Justin Langer got a career-saving first-ball reprieve that turned into the century that was the foundation of his rise to prominence. The one-day team was in action a few months later with Adam Gilchrist preparing for an imminent Test debut and one of the great modern careers by scoring one of the four centuries in the game in Lahore that would prove to be Australia’s last appearance in that country. Until now. The news that Australia will tour Pakistan next year is most welcome and long overdue. The threat of terrorism has kept Pakistan off the schedule for most of this century, a threat that was manifested with the deadly attack on Sri Lanka’s bus in 2009, but vastly improved security networks and the success of T20 franchise cricket, as well as several low-key international tours, suggests the time is right for the borders to come down. My first trip to Pakistan in 1996 was by bus. It was a long trip from Chandigarh through the Sikh stronghold of Amritsar to the border town of Attari where you had to walk several kilometres across the heavily patrolled no-man’s land to Wagah where trains left, occasionally, for Lahore. It wasn’t easy getting across the border. A very diligent border guard on the Indian side confiscated all my pens and then painstakingly used a razor to slice the most detailed maps from my battered Lonely Planet travel guide. “It is for security reasons,” he explained. “We are at war with Pakistan.” But Pakistan is not at war with Australia and the prospect that we might once again be able to tour there is most pleasing, even if it is likely that the road to Lahore might still be pitted with obstacles in 2022 as it was in 1996.