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Shoaib Akhtar (left) had a healthy rivalry with Indian Sachin Tendulkar, India’s master blaster.
Image credit: AP
It was April 27, 2002 when a fast bowler hit the 100 mph mark with his lightning strike. Pakistani sprinter Shoaib Akhtar rolled at 100.04 mph (161 kmph) against Craig McMillan of New Zealand during a One Day International in Lahore.
I remember that Khalid Butt, then media manager for the Pakistan Cricket Board, proudly made a statement about this feat, although the International Cricket Council (ICC) did not approve of it, claiming that it did not have a standard measurement tool.
Akhtar never bothered if his pace was recognized or not and said, “I don’t care if someone recognizes the speed gun or not. To me, it’s satisfying that he released the fastest delivery.”
I was lucky to see Akhtar at his best on many occasions. He could terrify hitters and get some kind of special excitement by watching the fear on the hitter’s face as he reached out to throw a bowl at them.
Pacemakers have a peculiar mindset. They love to paint themselves as cruel people and even make statements that can create fear. Once, when I asked Akhtar about how rewarding it had been to be known as the fastest bowler, and his reply was, “You must be a little crazy to become a fast bowler.”
After Akhtar became a commentator, he always came and sat with journalists and jokes. With so much humor up his sleeve, I often wondered how he could present a different image of himself on the field during his game days. Akhtar is now using his sense of humor in his tweets, though just like his submissions, he barely bothers if his tweets hurt people or a nation at times.
Australian Jeff Thomson, who once played 99.8 mph in 1975, until Akhtar passed him, was another player who won many fans through his fearsome pace. He also created fear among hitters through his remarks. He once commented that he liked hitters on the field with spilled blood (although he later denied saying so). However, once Thomson hit Duleep Mendis of Sri Lanka in the head, and although Mendis was lying on the ground, Thomson turned his back to walk towards the second mark. He had also hit Sunil Wettimuny in Sri Lanka with a yorker, and when the batter crawled out of the fold writhing in pain, he ran, broke the gate and requested a break.
Known to everyone as “Thommo”, his own name created fear. Years later, when I met him as a commentator, one wondered if he was the same man the world had once feared. To obtain wickets, pacemakers use different ways.
It reminds me of the observation by Sri Lankan pacemaker Lasith Malinga: “In cricket, if we just survive, I don’t think anyone can go far.” You have to find ways to be a match winner. “
