Usman Khawaja: The reluctant hero

TAHA HASHIM: On the part of Khawaja, there has often been a reluctance to be seen as anything but an ordinary bloke playing cricket for his country

It’s early 2018. Australia have triumphed in the Ashes, sweeping England aside 4-0. In the final Test of the series, Usman Khawaja ends a lean run of scores with a typically elegant 171. As Steve Smith lifts the urn in Sydney on January 8^th, all is well in Australian cricket.

A reporter from 60 Minutes pays a visit to Khawaja’s family home prior to the tour of South Africa, where he talks openly about playing for Australia, his Muslim faith, and the criticism he has received for the perception of him being a “lazy” cricketer. The television camera pans to a framed front page of The Sydney Morning Herald which hangs on the wall.

Alongside a picture of a youthful-looking Khawaja is the headline: MEET OUR FIRST MUSLIM TEST CRICKETER.

Stood under it is the reporter, Khawaja, and Khawaja’s father.

‘I don’t like that headline to be honest,’ says Khawaja, with a wry smile.

‘Why not?’, asks the reporter.

Khawaja pauses for a few seconds, only to unleash a blunt response. ‘I’ve never liked that headline. I just wanted to play cricket.’ 

^{Khawaja celebrates hitting a century against West Indies at Melbourne}

Born in Pakistan, but an upbringing spent elsewhere. I write not of Khawaja but myself, a cricket-mad child who spent much of boyhood in England. In cricket, I found a connection to the country of my birth and heritage, swooned by the maddening talents of the men in green. And yet, as a product of the 2005 Ashes baby boom, a moment in English cricket that spurred a new generation of cricket lovers, there emerged split loyalties, as I showed support for both Pakistan and my adopted home.   

As much as I dreamt of being either the next Freddie Flintoff or Shahid Afridi, what I truly yearned for was to see someone akin to my background wearing the Three Lions. From this adolescent identity crisis emerged an obsessional rooting for the success of British Asians representing England. Any glimpse of an England scorecard would lead me searching for wickets from Sajid Mahmood and Monty Panesar, runs from Owais Shah and Ravi Bopara. In recent years, the success of spin twins Moeen Ali and Adil Rashid has filled me with unbridled joy.

While it became a regular occurrence to see someone of Asian descent walk out to the tune of Jerusalem, what would occur at the Sydney Cricket Ground on January 3^rd, 2011 was something far more surreal. At 55 for 1, out strode Australia’s new number three to face England. It wasn’t Ricky Ponting or Michael Clarke, it was Usman Tariq Khawaja, born in Islamabad but a proud wearer of the Baggy Green.

A deafening ovation on his walk to the crease would be followed by an innings of 37 that left you salivating for more. A pull-shot to get off the mark against Chris Tremlett, England’s wrecking ball in that famous series win, had me hooked. A boy from Pakistan, Muslim just like me, and playing Test cricket for Australia? My thirteen-year old brain struggled for comprehension. 

From there on I couldn’t help but keep a wandering eye on the ups and downs of Khawaja’s career. I watched as he struggled to find his way at international level, failing to turn those pretty twenties and thirties into something more meaningful. I watched as he ditched the blue of New South Wales for the maroon of Queensland, in the hope of reinvigorating his game.

I watched as he endured low-profile county stints at Derbyshire and Lancashire, solid but unspectacular in his return of runs. I watched as he found his way back to Test cricket with a maiden hundred against New Zealand, four years on from that emotional day at the SCG. I watched as his struggles against spin had him written off overseas.

I watched as he spent almost nine hours at the crease against a spin-heavy Pakistan side, to take Australia to one of the great Test-match draws in Abu Dhabi.

^{Khawaja made his Test debut against England at the SCG in 2011}

Khawaja’s cricketing story is an extraordinary tale itself. Factor in his importance as a multicultural icon and there emerges an even more complex story to tell. On the part of Khawaja, there has often been a reluctance to be seen as anything but an ordinary bloke playing cricket for his country, an innate desire to just be one of the boys.

Amidst the unnecessary furore that emerged in 2013 regarding Fawad Ahmed’s desire to not wear the sponsored logo of a beer company on religious grounds, interest was raised as to why Khawaja had not previously objected to this. Mike Whitney, president of Khawaja’s former cricket club in Sydney, Randwick Petersham, explained, “Whenever he was asked about religion, he would just say he was an Australian player, not a Muslim player.”

In recent years, Khawaja has moved away from a shroud of secrecy and openly discussed at length, topics such as his faith and race. And yet, the constant mention of his religion in conjunction with his cricketing achievements is something that has irked him, a point he puts across clearly in the interview with 60 Minutes.

On the surface it would seem puzzling, as Khawaja is a practicing Muslim who considers his faith to be of greater importance than any game of cricket. Closer inspection can reveal more. 

In a Players Voice article written in 2017, Khawaja described the racism he suffered as a cricket-mad child growing up in western Sydney.

“At school I was called things by other kids I had never heard before.

“’F–ing curry muncher’ was one of the more popular ones that particularly hurt.

“Getting sledged by opposition players and their parents was the norm. Some of them said it just quietly enough for only me to hear. It still hurt, but I would never show it.” 

Why would you want to be constantly reminded, that you’re different to everyone else on a cricket field, when those differences have been used to belittle you?

^{The opener hit a tireless century in Dubai}

Australian cricket has endured unprecedented turmoil this year. A bit of sandpaper can do that to you. Steve Smith and David Warner remain consigned to club cricket for the time being. What remains unanswered is the question of who is to carry the weight of Australia’s batting through the home summer.

In the sapping heat of Dubai, Khawaja spoke clearly with his bat. He is now Australia’s most important batsman in Test cricket, their most reliable source of runs. However, a twisted knee in Abu Dhabi has put a halt on his rise. Australian fans will have to eagerly wait and hope that their star left-hander can recover in time for India’s tour Down Under.  

It is worth noting that just days after Khawaja’s momentous 141, on the floor of the Australian Senate, a motion was put to the vote by Pauline Hanson, the leader of the anti-immigrant One Nation Party, a woman who once remarked, "Islam is a disease; we need to vaccinate ourselves against that." 

The motion called for the acknowledgement of a rise in “anti-white racism”, and for recognition that “it is OK to be white.” Twenty-eight senators voted in favour of the motion, as it was narrowly defeated by just three votes.

One mustn’t also forget the recent claims from Moeen Ali, who said that he was called “Osama” by an Australian cricketer during the 2015 Ashes, and that he was subject to racist abuse from crowds during the most recent Ashes series in Australia.

In the shadow of such bigotry and prejudice, more and more players of Asian descent have emerged on the scene of Australian cricket, with the likes of Gurinder Sandhu, Arjun Nair, and more recently Jason Sangha. In his Players Voice piece, Khawaja shies away from attributing himself with credit for this development.

“Maybe it was inevitable with the growing multicultural community in Australia. Maybe it was a few friendly faces at the highest level. We will never know.” 

When Khawaja walks to the crease, in his green Australia helmet, he’s only thinking about playing the game he loves. That’s all he’s ever wanted to do. When he’s focussing on the next delivery, it’s unlikely that he’s thinking about the hope he offers to those who are subject to intolerable prejudice, or the pride he once gave to a young boy searching for an identity. After all, he’s just a batsman, doing his job, too busy making centuries for his country.

Usman Khawaja is a reluctant hero, but a hero nonetheless.