The quiet colossus

Pakistan's giant © Getty Images

The way he is, he shouldn't be a batsman. He shouldn't even be a sportsman. Where other batsmen stride to the crease, Inzamam-ul-Haq lopes and mopes to it, shoulders hunched. He drags his bat along with him like a scolded schoolboy would his satchel. Not for him the bravado entrance of a Mathew Hayden or a Virender Sehwag, chest out, brandishing the bat as weapon. Increasingly when he is dismissed, he loiters despondent for an eternity, not as protest but because of an acute awareness of its implications. Hayden and Sehwag can afford bluster; if they go, they have Ponting, Gilchrist, Sachin or Dravid. But if Inzamam falls, as John Wright's fist-pumping celebration at Kolkata in the second innings suggested, half the battle with Pakistan is often won.

As with all his best innings, Inzamam's 100th Test has crept up on us almost unnoticed. Only three Pakistanis - Javed Miandad, Wasim Akram and Salim Malik - have played in over 100 tests and it somehow seems right, bearing in mind the larger-than-life personality each possessed, that they achieved the landmark. With Inzamam, it sounds mildly implausible; 100 tests? Really? He will probably end up eclipsing Miandad as the greatest batsman Pakistan ever produced. How, given his inert demeanor, has he managed it?

He stretches the traditional confrontation between ball and bat. Not till the very last moment, at which point the ball invariably looks like winning the battle, does he react. By that time, motionless almost apart from an incongruous shuffle here or there, the length is clear in his mind and it remains only for him to bring down his bat, with strength or otherwise, but always, always, with quick hands. Energy conservation is maximised and only as much as necessary is ever spent. You see it in his running and his fielding, especially in the short cover position he lately loves.

Recognise that slim boy-wonder? © Getty Images

It's not so much a technique as an attitude and with it he has become the most important Pakistan batsman of his time, possibly ever. Two innings in the 1992 World Cup made him, and won it for Pakistan. His undefeated 58 decided the Karachi thriller against Australia in 1994-5, but it has been only since 2000, by which time both Miandad and Malik were gone, that his value has become clear. For much of the time since, Pakistan's batting has disintegrated, while his, in inverse proportion, has flourished. The most wretched and vivid example of this dependence came at Multan in 2003, where but for his 138 not out, Pakistan's batsmen would've contrived to lose to Bangladesh. In 41 tests since 2000 he has averaged nearly 57, with 12 centuries. How important is he to Pakistan? More than statistics will ever tell you, for they don't tell you of the thin support and heavy load he has had to bear. Still, they are revealing. Of his 20 test centuries, 15 have contributed to Pakistan wins and he averages over 75 in all their wins since 2000.

So what, you say? In a golden age for batting, does he really bear comparison with the greats? Lara, Sachin, Hayden, Ponting, Dravid after all have better figures, players who, when that ludicrous question of having someone bat for your life is asked, would rightly get picked before him. And he won't be remembered in the same way a Lara or a Sachin will be. Where they have saved their very best for the best - Australia and South Africa of the nineties - Inzamam has average, even poor records against them. No, even though he may not lack their batsmanship, he lacks the drive, the ruthlessness, the sustained pursuit of excellence, the sheer force of will and personality which has marked their greatness.

But of course he does; it is a result of the very attitude which pulls us to him in the first place. Despite his apparent insouciance and the pressures on him, his lumbering starts, his unsportsmanlike appearance, he has managed to achieve all that he has; 100 tests, over 7000 runs and an average threatening 50 and that is worth appreciating. Occasions such as his 123 at Karachi last year against the Indians, or his 86 at Mohali last week, when he outshone even the most stellar batting line-up of our time are worth cherishing. These are occasions when everything clicks, when his very casualness suddenly becomes his redeeming feature and not a glaring hindrance. These are occasions where his genius emerges, where he fleetingly and slyly hints, rather than emphatically asserts, to being the best batsman in the game today.

Osman Samiuddin is a cricket writer based in Karachi. He is following the Pakistan team on their tour of India.