In the November 17 issue of Dawn, M. Shabbar Ali quoted an interesting observation in his article on Babar Azam’s ‘resignation’ as captain of Pakistan’s cricket team. Ali quoted an official close to the team as saying that, during Ramiz Raja’s tenure as chief of the Pakistan Cricket Board (PCB), “Babar was made a demigod, an untouchable entity.”

According to Ali, Babar was appointed captain on the insistence of the then prime minister of the country, Imran Khan. Khan had brought in his former cricket teammate Ramiz to head the PCB, replacing Ehsan Mani who had replaced Najam Sethi. Sethi is a well-known journalist and political analyst who was appointed as head of the PCB by the third Nawaz Sharif regime.

Before coming to power in 2018, Khan was quite vocal about his dislike for Sethi, who he saw as Sharif’s man and an opponent of Khan’s party.

Ramiz made no secret of his admiration for Khan. After becoming chairman PCB, he didn’t waste any time in appointing Babar as captain. Babar had already risen to become a world class batter, and Khan wanted him to captain the side.  According to Khan — a former cricketer himself — a high performing captain commands respect from his players.

While some athletes, such as Imran Khan, Virat Kohli and Muhammad Ali, covet the spotlight that their sporting abilities provide them with, others, like Babar Azam, simply aren’t built for the attention that level of superstardom brings

Babar was/is that kind of a performer. Interestingly, the playbook that Ramiz used to elevate Babar’s overall appeal was the same one that Khan’s political party and his supporters in the media and the military establishment (ME) had used to mould the image of Khan as a political messiah who could do no wrong. 

Such tactics only work when the sacralised person has an inherent charisma and can convincingly carry the elevated image that is shaped for him. Khan was thus tailor-made for this image. 

Populist leaders have that charisma and, therefore, they are able to play the role of saviours and/or messiahs rather well. It’s another thing that, at least in politics, they often stumble and become self-destructive, because the image that they have adopted eschews the pragmatism, patience and compromise that conventional politics requires.

This is why the mentioned image is more successful in non-political fields, such as sports. In these, the sacralised persons can unabashedly compliment their sporting duties with lifestyle mannerisms that do not require following the cumbersome restrictions of politics.

As a cricketer, Khan had risen to become a ‘demigod’. He was a top performer, but there were also others in his team who were equally good. Yet, they could not become what he became, simply because he had in him the stuff that shapes a larger-than-life sportsperson: charisma, charm, attitude, arrogance and a big fat ego. 

These traits also came into play when he entered politics. Through constant TV appearances, continual rotation of video clips of his cricketing exploits, his lasting appeal in Britain’s elite circles and in Bollywood, his success in building a cancer hospital, and his stated desire to run the country in the manner in which he had had run his cricket team — all this became the ingredients with which the military establishment (ME) and various mainstream TV journalists shaped him into a ‘handsome’, messianic political character that, apparently, every Pakistani was waiting for. 

But once in power, he was an abject failure. He self-destructed, like most populists often do.

Not all high-performing sportspersons are cut out to carry the demigod image. For instance, there have been numerous brilliant football players produced by South American countries, but only a handful of them were revered as ‘demigods’ — men such as Argentina’s Diego Maradona and Lionel Messi, or Brazil’s Pelé. High performers, but who also had that something in them which aided them in carrying that larger-than-life image that they were bestowed with. 

The boxing legend Muhammad Ali is an excellent example too. He relished his sacralised image and carried it convincingly, because he also had the personality for it. 

However, a lot of ‘demigods’ can struggle as well to come to terms with this image because performance alone is not what maintains it. A few years ago, the former Pakistani fast bowler Shoaib Akhtar complained that, compared to cricket ‘superstars’ outside Pakistan, Babar lacked the kind of personality that helps star sportspersons carry this image. 

Akhtar was lambasted by Babar’s fans. But Akhtar was not questioning Babar’s batting abilities. Akhtar himself was a larger-than-life character. And since he enjoyed this image, he consciously adopted the kind of lifestyle and mannerisms that enhanced it. This is what Akhtar was alluding to while commenting on Babar’s ‘star’ status. 

Ramiz’s PCB wanted to turn Babar into a demigod, someone like India’s Virat Kohli, an extremely gifted batter, but also someone who oozes glamour on and off the field. Armies of Pakistani cricket ‘fans’ were encouraged to produce clip after clip after clip of Babar’s delicious cover drives. Then, corporate brands were lined up to seek him as a model in their campaigns. He was constantly touted as the ‘nation’s pride’ and a certified ‘GOAT’ (a Gen-Z term for someone extraordinary, ‘Greatest Of All Times’). 

In reality, Babar was a simple, down-to-earth lad, whose most attractive feature was his batting. He had that guy-next-door personality. He clearly struggled to look ‘stylish’ in TV commercials, and has absolutely nothing glamorous or edgy about him.

Of course, he welcomed the money that multinationals invested in him. Yet, one could also notice that, consciously or otherwise, he was quietly trying to escape the ‘GOAT’ image that he was forced to adopt. He was clearly uncomfortable with it. 

Babar getting close to the Tableeghi Jamaat circles within the team was at least one way for him to escape from an image that his amicable but staid personality was struggling to carry. Captaincy put him in the spotlight and things became even more complex in this respect.

During the recently concluded World Cup event in India, he looked lost — nothing like the extraordinary star that so many tried to turn him into. Because he never was. He is still a brilliant batsman, but he just doesn’t have the personality to carry the image of a sacralised character. 

Losing the captaincy will do a world of good to him. He can become himself again — an extremely talented cricketer who can now concentrate entirely on his cricketing abilities, without having to also act out the image of a demigod.

Published in Dawn, EOS, November 26th, 2023