Smash hit

Even though many of the team still play their cricket in the Pakistani league, they have become national heroes. And in this war-torn country, with this new adulation comes danger: they are potential targets in the conflicts that rage across Afghanistan.

Ahmed Shah, a spin bowler and steady batsman, has a wife and three children. He supports himself through a shop he runs in his home province of Paktika, southeast of Kabul. Last time he went home, several months ago, he grew a beard and covered his face. He was worried that bandits might recognise him from the television, and kidnap him for a ransom. “These provinces are not safe for the players,” he says. Now his brother is running the shop.

That Shah is now so famous is largely down to Taj Malik Alam, the former coach and brother of Hasti Gul, who was one of the first to moot the idea of a national side. Hyperactive and talkative, Taj Malik is a force of nature: it was he who pleaded for sponsorship when the very idea of an Afghan cricket team was laughable. He who took the team abroad to tournaments and lobbied the Afghan government.

When the captain Nowroz Mangal’s father tried to stop his son playing, Taj Malik went to the province of Khost on the Pakistani border to speak to him. “He will be great,” he told his father. He stayed the night pleading with him, and by the morning, had convinced him that his son could be a hero. As it turned out, Taj Malik was right. In November 2007, when Afghanistan jointly won the Asian Cricket Council Twenty20 Cup (the final against Oman ended in a tie), a local businessman gave Nowroz Mangal land worth $60,000.

The first team is now coached by Kabir Khan, a former Pakistani test player who took over in September last year. Taj Malik was a motivator, fixer and passionate advocate of the sport; now the team requires someone with real cricketing experience to take them to the next level. Khan, who has Afghan heritage and speaks Pashto, the language of the team, fits the role perfectly. He is a cool, calm operator. “Ability-wise I was very impressed,” he says. “It was more than I heard about them. It was only mental toughness they needed, and a bit of big heart going into tough games.”

Today Taj Malik works in the cricket academy in Kabul, training a new crop of Afghan players. He is happiest in the dusty cricket nets, humiliating the young bowlers with his big hits, and his passion is unabated. During games, he paces the outfield, his shoulders hunched, his face in a scowl, his belly sticking out, a cigarette pressed to his lips. Victory sees him jumping for joy, punching the air and kissing his players.

His commitment is reflected in this unlikely team of exiles now promoting the Afghan cause. Nowroz Mangal missed the birth of his son to be with them for a pre-Jersey training camp. “We want to promote sport and we want Afghanistan to be recognised by the whole world,” says Mangal. “We want them all to see the Afghan flag.”

Before the Jersey tournament, Taj Malik said that winning was “do or die”. “If we win, I think people will understand that the Afghan people are not only famous in war, they can win in sport as well.”

And win, eventually, they did. On their return to Kabul, the team was greeted by hundreds of well-wishers, showered in flowers and paraded in front of government ministers. They appeared on television, and parties were thrown in their honour. During the final, every internet café in the city was full of new cricket fans following the game.

Now work is under way to build a grass stadium in Kabul. The president of the Afghan cricket federation, Sherzada Massoud, is particularly fond of a bowling machine given to the team before Jersey. He stretches his finger outwards and upwards when feeding in the balls as if he is carrying out the most delicate of operations. When a player misses and the wickets fall you’d think Massoud, a hulk of a man, has bowled them out himself. Massoud, who has a permanent bodyguard with him, is adviser on tribal affairs to President Karzai, and his main job is to try to raise the profile of the cricket team in the government. “Sport can make the relationship between nations better,” he says. “That is why we are supporting sport.”

It is not the easiest of tasks. There is still some suspicion in government about cricket, though its rapidly growing grassroots support cannot be ignored.

Although the Taleban hated sports, rather bizarrely – amid the public executions, brutal treatment of women and suppression of girls’ schools – they did form their own Afghanistan cricket team. It toured once, to Pakistan, and lost every game. Defeat was humiliating and comprehensive. The team was short-lived.