THE relationship between Kardar and Fazal Mahmood was not dissimilar to the one between Imran Khan and Javed Miandad. There may not have been too much chemistry but when it came to playing for the team, all personal differences were forgotten and each gave his hundred per cent. I was close to Kardar but it did not affect my admiration for Fazal nor my friendship with him. Off the field, Fazal had his own circle of friends and I was not one of them. But I was his well-wisher and Fazal knew this.
I had first cast my eyes on him when he had come to Bombay to play in the Zonal tournament that had replaced the Bombay Pentangular and even then he was being talked about as the new Amar Singh, one of the best fast-medium bowlers of his time.
In the winter of 1946, I happened to be in New Delhi and there was a benefit match for Wazir Ali. I played in that match and my captain was the Nawab of Pataudi Sr. Fazal Mahmood was playing for the opposing side and I did survive an over from him. There were many big names playing that match but apart from Fazal, there was another budding star and whose name was Maqsood Ahmed. In the fullness of time we would know him better as Merry Max.
Fazal Mahmood is best remembered as the ‘Oval Hero’ and ‘Fazalled’ entered into the English language when the Daily Express used it in a headline to describe the demolition job he had done on England’s batsmen. But he also ‘Fazalled’ India at Lucknow and Pakistan won its first ever Test on a first ever international tour since being awarded Test status.
I got close to him when he led Pakistan on its tour of India in 1960-61. It was a very hard tour, both on and off the field and Fazal seemed to be under strain and cut a somewhat lonely figure. Sometimes he sought my advice, sometimes I volunteered it. At a reception in Kanpur, he asked me to make the speech on his behalf. There were subjects I could touch such as umpiring that he could not as the captain. There were no hotels to speak of in Kanpur and we had been put up in a private estate, however, the security was so tight that we could have no visitors without a great deal of hassle.
In my speech I referred to the accommodation as a “five-star concentration camp” which did not go down well with our hosts. In the Calcutta Test, Pakistan had the upper hand when rain disrupted the match. The umpires refused to re-start play and when I went to the Pakistan dressing-room, I found a furious Fazal, rule-book in hand. I was the guest-commentator for All India Radio and when I was next on the air, I conveyed the frustration of the Pakistan captain and added my own. Fazal, I thought had made a mistake in coming out of retirement and joining the Pakistan team midway through its tour of England in 1962. Fazal needed to go out with a bang and not with a whimper. The irony is that he got hammered all over the park by Ted Dexter and Colin Cowdray on the very ground that had been the venue of his greatest triumph — the Oval.
Even the brightest stars lose their lustre but Fazal Mahmood is one of the names that is still remembered as if it was yesterday. He has aged as one who hasn’t, but he is not bent. Still upright and I would suspect, if tossed a ball, he would be more than willing to turn his arm over and bowling a leg-cutter.
Fazal and I did some TV commentary together. He was the expert and on one occasion Keith Miller was also a member of the commentary team. It was obvious that there was much mutual respect but Keith and Fazal would exchange a lot of banter when we were off the air. By modern standards Fazal was not a fast bowler. On one occasion Keith Miller decided to have Fazal on and asked him how quick he was. Fazal is his own best fan and he told him that in his prime, ‘there was no technology available to measure the speed of the ball but when he bowled; mid-off and mid-on could hear the ball whistle!’
This was a bit too much for Keith and deadpan, he started to calculate. There was 22 yards between the wickets. Mid-off and Mid-on would be a few yards further back, say 32 yards from the batsman and then he dropped his punch-line, all very serious: “How many whistles per hour?” he asked.
We burst out laughing and Fazal realized that Keith was having him on. But Fazal took it in good spirit. There no malice in Keith Miller and it was all in good fun.
Maqsood Ahmed had a dry sense of humour but he was a sharp critic. He could be a lot of fun but could be somewhat uncharitable about the people he did not like and he included himself in that list. The American poet Robert Frost could easily have had him in mind when he wrote his memorable lines: “He had a lover’s quarrel with the world.”
There was a quality of self-destruction in him. Having all but reached the peak of the highest mountain, he seemed disinclined to take the final stride and he would stumble, as if reaching the peak would fulfil his ambition and no other worlds would be left for him to conquer. He was the best batsman Pakistan has ever produced who never scored a Test hundred. But he came desperately close to making one and the failure to do so took something out of him, took the ‘merry’ out of Max. This was, of course the 99 he scored against India in Lahore in 1955. I later described that innings in these words: “He (Maqsood) had started watchfully, nothing merry about this Max. He played himself in, like a firework that crackles but does not burst into a star-spangled explosion. But as we say in cricket, he was middling the ball and his feet were moving. The self-doubts were falling off. His body language became more assertive. Runs started to flow, he got into the nineties. The atmosphere at the ground turned electric and there was a buzz of anticipation. I was on the air and I milked the suspense, raising and lowering my voice to create an extra drama. When he got to 99, there was a pause and the field was rearranged to prevent a scrambled single. Finally, Subhash Gupte came into bowl and Maqsood step forward, was beaten in the air and was stumped by Tamhane. The crowd was stunned, shock before grief. There was pin-drop silence before the buzz picked up again. A crestfallen Maqsood made his way back with heavy steps, stricken by some divine despair and a pall of gloom hung over the ground. The newspaper reported the next day that a listener had died of a heart attack in Bahawalpur.”
But there is another memory of him. In the winter of 1954, Kardar took a Bahawalpur Services team to Bombay to play a festival match to mark the silver or golden jubilee of the Bombay Cricket Association. Maqsood was a member of the team. We were staying at the CCI and one evening Imtiaz Ahmed, Maqsood and I were with Kardar in his room. Group Captain Cheema was the Secretary of the BCCP and de facto manager of the room. He had been looking for Maqsood and it was obvious that Maqsood was avoiding him. There was a knock on the door.
It was Cheema ,and Maqsood hid under the bed. Cheema stayed on and after a few minutes we noticed smoke coming out from under the bed. Maqsood had decided to light up a cigarette! Even Group Captain Cheema found it very funny. That was the fun-loving side of him and in top form he could be a barrel of laughs. That was the Merry Max in him, not just confined to his batting.
THE relationship between Kardar and Fazal Mahmood was not dissimilar to the one between Imran Khan and Javed Miandad. There may not have been too much chemistry but when it came to playing for the team, all personal differences were forgotten and each gave his hundred per cent. I was close to Kardar but it did not affect my admiration for Fazal nor my friendship with him. Off the field, Fazal had his own circle of friends and I was not one of them. But I was his well-wisher and Fazal knew this.
