Hazratullah Zazai: The interminable rise of Afghanistan's fearless swashbuckler

When you have seen what Zazai has seen, when you have lived the life that he has lived, what – really – is pressure?

Lasith Malinga bounds to the crease. He bowls. It's short of a length, aimed in at the batsman's body. It's not slow. In a word, it looks awkward. But seconds later, the ball is being retrieved from the stands. Nobody knows quite how it arrived there, only that there was a terrific noise of leather on willow.

An outlier in a team of outliers. The rawest of talents in a set of rough diamonds. In a huge field, he sits furthest to the left.

What’s that coming over the hill? It’s Hazratullah.

One of the numerous consequences of a 10-team World Cup, pitting those already known to the cricketing universe against one another in an endless two-month cycle, is the dwindling likelihood of an emerging breakout star – an unlikely maverick bursting into the mainstream, a cult figure – green in experience – dancing to his own mercurial tune.

In Afghanistan, however, there lies a different beast. Some – Rashid Khan, Mohammad Nabi and Mujeeb Ur Rahman, for example – have become familiar names as the picks of T20 franchise teams worldwide. All 15 squad members, of course, are icons back home in a nation redefined by the unparalleled rise of its cricket team.

And then there is Hazratullah Zazai; a hulking, brutal figure destined for stardom. A global superstar in the making: a heavy-metal batsman, whose greatest hits might feature an accompanying soundtrack of pots and pans thundering violently like a cacophonous avalanche of mayhem. Loud noises, impossible to escape. Every run is an event, every bat-swing a hazard, every boundary more hard evidence of a rare ability.

Few men have made such an impression at their first World Cup with such fleeting returns. A duck against Australia was followed by an enterprising 30 against Sri Lanka and a similar effort against New Zealand.

But it wasn’t about the runs. It was about a unique style. It was about rank fearlessness. Not even the great Malinga was spared; he was thwacked away with a rare disdain by an intimidating frame for whom the world is changing – it is becoming his oyster.

^{Zazai struck 162 against Ireland in a T20 international - the second highest individual score of all time.}

“He’s got an eye like a dead fish,” laughs Peter Anderson, the man who found him. That, by the way, is a compliment – unshakeable, stone-cold: an eye that locates the ball and deposits it into the stands, no questions asked.

He is thrillingly one-dimensional; a batter who bats, a whacker who whacks, a man in a hurry but desperate to take you with him. Each single is treated with reluctance - a necessary inconvenience.

Six sixes in a single over during last year’s Afghanistan Premier League give fairly firm credence to the hype, then further solidified by a 62-ball unbeaten 162 against Ireland in February. That particular knock included 16 maximums – the most in a T20 international.

His mantra is sport in its least complicated form: see ball, hit ball. But when the very terms of your existence have mirrored such similar parameters, that simplicity is of little surprise.

When living is about surviving, the importance of all else shrinks in comparison. It is a batting style moulded by a perspective that few could begin to comprehend; it is a shining example of how life experience can affect one’s art.

He is fearless because, well, of course he is.

When you have seen what Zazai has seen, when you have lived the life that he has lived, what – really – is pressure?

Imagine poking tentatively outside your off-stump when your upbringing has been fraught with chaos, with an endless conflict, with an interminable fragility.

Imagine even contemplating leaving the ball when it could be swung away over mid-wicket. What could cricket possibly offer that could be even slightly worthy of fear?

A straightforward game of bat and ball is treated as such because, when you’ve lived the Afghan life, that is all it merits. You don’t overthink it. You certainly don’t shy away from it. You don’t allow yourself to shirk at the dangers of your decisions. To these brave, bold Afghans, cricket is a relief and a victory, not a burden.

Different worlds and different societal traumas bring with them different notions of trepidation. Zazai plays as he does because that is his wont, but also because he could never truly fear failure. How could he?

From some of the planet’s most perilous depths to the preposterous glitz of a World Cup, how could sport carry fear when sport has given you your life and saved you from the alternative - a life of Afghan poverty?

The speed of Zazai's rise from amateur cricket to international prominence has been remarkable.

Anderson, a former Queensland wicketkeeper who became the first westerner to work in Afghan cricket when he was appointed as the country’s academy coach, recalls the day that he first stumbled across Zazai’s lumbering figure.

It was a chance encounter, but one that would change a child’s life – a gamble that has paid off handsomely.

Even by the standards set in this extraordinary tale of Afghan cricket, Zazai’s journey is one of unique, unusual beginnings.

“His story is like a movie, like a drama,” recalls Raees Ahmadzai, the former national team captain. “He came from his own natural talent.

“To be honest, I had no idea who this guy was. When I saw him for the first time, he was just smashing it everywhere. He was a guy who wasn’t believing in his own technique, but just in his ability to hit the ball.

“He was a worker somewhere, working for a very small amount. He’s from a very poor family. He would work all night and he would play cricket all day. He would go straight from his night duty to the ground. He would often only sleep for three to four hours in 24 hours. He loved to play cricket.”

He was not part of the national age-group setup – not on the radar, not a name to be reckoned with. An unknown quantity, he was little more than a bludgeoning bottom-handed slugger. He was playing for his own enjoyment, for that is what cricket has given to Afghanistan.

“Boy oh boy,” Anderson chuckles as he remembers the day five years ago at a local park ground 20 minutes beyond Kabul’s city centre.

The occasion was a trial match; locals, wannabes, has-beens, dreamers, all playing for a place in the Shpageeza Cricket League, Afghanistan’s domestic T20 competition. Anderson himself was coaching the Band-e-Amir Dragons, a side based in the capital.

“He would have been picked in the T20 national side based on what I saw that day,” he says. “He hit 20 off the first over. He looked very ungainly, his grip was a little bit unorthodox, his stance was a bit weird, but he just smashed it.

“We were allowed a couple of rookies in the team and I picked him. Some of the other guys were against it; they were saying he had a terrible stance and a terrible grip.

“I just turned to them and said: ‘This guy has only got to bat for five overs. He will absolutely smash it. He’ll destroy anyone.’

“I knew he could bat. He got pushed out initially because he got pigeonholed straight away. But he’s a smart guy.

“It’s like any sport – if you’ve got a good eye, you can get away with anything. He has changed a couple of things slightly – he pushes the single more than he used to. He’s learning when to go and when not to go, and I’m sure that will improve as he gets more mature and plays more cricket.”

Zazai would go on to be named the competition’s best newcomer. With this unusual, mysterious force in the side, the Dragons would win seven games in a row before losing the final.

“He lost about nine balls in the tournament,” Anderson reminisces. “He kept on hitting it out into the car park and the wedding hall. He smashed them.”

He could find himself highly sought after following the World Cup.

Quiet comparisons to Chris Gayle are not far off the mark. Both left-handers, they are an immensely powerful duo with similar striking areas, clearing the front leg and throwing their hands back through the ball.

Sri Lanka eventually dismissed him after cramping him for room, denying Zazai the space to free those excitable arms. Even that tactic, Anderson says, comes armed with danger.

“We all know what T20 is like,” he explains. “You can win a game in the first five overs. Anyone who cramps him up and comes around the wicket to him, you’ve got to be careful still.

“He can hit straight well too – not just across the line. He can smack them over cover if you get too full.

“A lot of these guys are overcoached. But look at Gayle. I wouldn’t be changing Hazra. I’d just be backing him to belt it.”

It is a strategy that has worked so far. His six successive maximums have opened up new doors; it gave him access to one of cricket’s most exclusive clubs. Sobers, Shastri, Gibbs, Yuvraj – he is in good company.

“I can’t believe the Big Bash haven’t looked at him,” adds Anderson. His clean hitting, especially of the quicker bowlers, makes him a potentially priceless option. He went unsold in the most recent IPL auction, though attended a trial session with Kings XI Punjab beforehand. He is under the microscope. A 36-ball 75 in the T10 League for the Maratha Arabians has only added to the intrigue.

Anderson, who now works with the Cayman Islands national side, is a pioneer. He coached in Papua New Guinea before moving to Afghanistan. He is the type of coach to nurture the unusual, to appreciate the curiosities that come with the sport’s growth in developing cricketing nations. When faced with the unorthodox, he opts to embrace rather than reject.

He spent some time with Major League Baseball’s Arizona Diamondbacks, looking for any clues on striking the ball harder and further. Zazai and Najibullah Zadran, who made fifty against Australia, came up in his conversations.

“Najib could play baseball,” he says. “He’s short and stocky – he’s got a better build and a better swing. And he can hit them. He really hits the ball hard and he’s a little bloke. He’s got the perfect baseball swing. He’s got a good arm, good hands. Hazra too – he can hit the ball a long way. He’s just so strong.”

Not that any further proof was required, it remains quite an endorsement. In a tournament where there is little new to learn of the vast majority, the fascination in Zazai has heightened – a relative secret in a format shorn of mystery.

It is hard to quantify what such exposure means for someone of Zazai’s background: nine games in which to swashbuckle for this stout-hearted, doughty daredevil as the world watches on.

“These guys are so passionate about the game, more so than so many other countries,” Anderson says.

“It’s a way out of the ghettos. You can’t get any more motivation and inspiration than getting your life out of the gutter – especially for your family. They are rockstars in Afghanistan.”

The slick strut of an action figure, a death-or-glory approach to batsmanship, a rare combination of madcap enthusiasm and inexorable drive; Zazai’s is a rags-to-riches tale, the likes of which cricket has rarely seen. He is Rocky Balboa – a logic-defying ride from nowhere to everywhere.

“I think he’ll do something special,” warns Anderson, the glint in his eye audible in his voice.

“A side is going to get done by him at some stage. He is going to curtail someone.

“It won’t happen every time. But I’ll tell you what, woe betide anyone if he gets going.”

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