Few sights in England in 2006 were as striking as Mohammad Yousuf. Eyes fell naturally to the beard first, so W.G.-like and dense you wondered how the helmet’s chinstrap managed. And once past the beard, another visual feast awaited.
With anything other than a bat in his hand, Yousuf cuts an unremarkable presence; as a fielder he is plain clumsy. With a bat, he comes alive. Bob Woolmer, his coach, likens him to a Ferrari when he is batting and a truck when he isn’t. Throughout the English tour, he provided the surreal spectacle of a Ferrari doing the heavy pulling.
At Lord’s, he arrived as Pakistan skidded to 28 for two, then 68 for four; at Headingley the wreckage read 36 for two. Each time, England had already scored 500-plus. Both messes demanded the sleeves-rolled-up, gritty salvation ethic of Steve Waugh and, in soul, they got it. But in body and mind, it was done with an élan more reminiscent of Mark Waugh. That 631 runs at an average of 90 eventually counted for so little was not his doing.
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