Friday, March 29, 2002 This week Pakistan is celebrating the tenth anniversary of its World Cup victory. It also happens to be the golden jubilee of Pakistan's entry into international cricket. On March 30, Imran's Tigers will be honoured at an awards ceremony that will also signal the beginning of the Pakistan Cricket Board's golden-jubilee jamboree. This will be a backslapping, sycophantic affair, and the PCB hopes that it will inspire Waqar's team to win back the World Cup.

March 25, 1992, was the greatest night of triumph in Pakistan's cricket history, perhaps in all of Pakistan's history. It was the climax of a decade of achievement under Imran Khan's leadership. Before Imran banged heads and hearts together, the Pakistan cricket team was a stage for soloists of sublime talent who rarely played in harmony. Underachievers, they were known for losing the mildest battle of nerves, not a cornered tiger among them. And it was batsmanship that Pakistan excelled at. So we had Zaheer Abbas, Hanif Mohammad and Majid Khan, who stood out as world-class batsmen of their time, and a supporting cast of skill and flair, while Fazal Mahmood was the sole champion among Pakistani bowlers.

Imran forced Pakistan's players together; a unity no better demonstrated than in the way that he and Javed Miandad steered that 1992 campaign. He made fast bowling fashionable. Without Imran, we may never have had Waqar or Wasim, Shoaib or Sami. There can few more powerful examples of the value of a role model. Imran also helped revive legspin with his championing of Abdul Qadir. The outcome of these interventions was a successful team and the World Cup trophy.

It is easy to be blinded by the brilliance of that balmy Melbourne night. Imran's Pakistan won Test series in England and India. They also drew with West Indies, at home and in the Caribbean, when the rest of the world was being pulverised. To my mind, they were bigger achievements, especially for the Pakistani psyche. But the World Cup was the most symbolic victory. It helped too that it was the first to be broadcast world wide, captivating an audience of hundreds of millions. And Pakistan played some memorable cricket with youthful zest and joie de vivre.

It has been a difficult act to follow - that is the tragedy for Pakistan cricket. Melbourne should have been a launch-pad for wider success, but the desire for recognition was replaced by narcissism. The win sparked a mad dash for riches and personal glory that sowed the seeds of an unholy decade.

Pakistan has had a better team in the last ten years than any that Imran commanded, but there has been a persistent slide down the international rankings. The reasons have been well aired: match-fixing, in-fighting, bad administration, political interference, and players too big for their boots, to name but a few. The result has been a team of soloists of sublime talent who rarely play in harmony. Back to where we started.

So the real history of Pakistan cricket is that it took 40 years for its celestial talents to come together and produce a Big Bang, since when those heavenly bodies have been rushing apart at breathtaking speed. That Big Bang destroyed the innocence and magic of Pakistan cricket. It also killed off its honesty. It is those qualities that I miss the most. This is the tenth anniversary of a glorious victory - and it is also a memorial. Waqar and his PCB masters have much to put right. That process should begin with a frank appraisal of the horrors of the decade since that World Cup win. A celebration has its place too, but not if it is merely a rose-tinted reverie.

Kamran Abbasi, born in Lahore, brought up in Rotherham, is assistant editor of the British Medical Journal. More Kamran Abbasi
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