Misbah produces his own type of magic

The whole world was waiting to see those feet hit the crease. Those famous feet, the ones that changed world cricket, ruined a young man's career, and sent him to jail. Editorials, hot takes, blog posts, sarcastic tweets, hurried whatsapping, but those feet were on the balcony. And they weren't the feet that stuck out.

Orange shoes. Misbah-ul-Haq is wearing orange shoes. Misbah cricket, the tuk tuk, a man blamed for losing an entire World T20, derided for his lack of flair, lack of energy, and inspiration, is wearing glow in the dark shoes in his first ever Test at Lord's. Like a dad who has bought himself a green tuxedo for his daughter's wedding, this was a big day for Misbah, he's been waiting a life time for it, and he and his shoes were going to look their best.

It feels like a middle-aged crisis, or like he put on Shahid Afridi's shoes by mistake. They look so orange that he is courting the kind of controversy that his whole captaincy has been about eradicating; outlandish statements, weird happenings and ICC sanctions.

There have always been two Pakistans, it's the orange shoe wearers you notice, it's the Misbah guys you don't. It's as if Pakistan wishes it could be Shahid Afridi, while trying like hell not to be like Misbah.

They produce effortlessly cool cricketers like Afridi, Imran Khan, Javed Miandad, Shoaib Akhtar, Abdul Qadir and Fazal Mahmood as often as England finds a line and length medium fast bowler. They produce these marvels of cricket, crazy, wild, beautiful, flawed genius poets of cricket, tossing back their flowing locks, twirling their evil moustaches, bowling pixie dust, playing cricket as if the world is a magical place just for them. One look at a Wasim inswinger or a Zaheer drive and you are hooked, and convinced, that Pakistan are a romantic action-comedy blockbuster of a side, but this isn't Pakistan, this is the Pakistan cricket dream sequence.

Behind the cool is a ton of plodding medium pacers, professional stonewallers, and sturdy spinners. Guys who work hard, put huge prices on their wickets, toil, sweat, practice and bleed for their nation. Without beautiful hair and a cavalcade of female admirers, they push on through terrible admin, a chaotic home schedule and play in anonymity as the flashy guys take the spoils. For every Shoaib Ahktar there are 100 Sarfraz Nawazes shuffling to the crease, for every Inzi there is an Ijaz Ahmed, alongside Javed was Mudassar Nazar, and after Saqlain there was Abdur Rehman.

If Imran is king of the sexpot centerfold Pakistani cricketers, Misbah is the office manager of their country's accountancy firm.

The running joke in cricket is that Pakistani players may not always be truthful with their age, and when asked why Misbah was only getting a go in the team so late in life, Younis Khan said he wasn't that old, it was just that his stated age was actually accurate. Such is Misbah's dedication to being dour and honest, you could imagine he added a couple of extra years to make up for others shaving some of theirs.

Before the Test he said: "If a cricketer has just started playing, it's his wish that he can play at Lord's." That means for 35 years Misbah has dreamed, if a man like Misbah allows himself to dream, of batting at Lord's leading his country. And here he was, the mere 15 years into his career, the mere 42 years into his life, striding to the wicket with his team needing him.

There was a lazy push that should have been caught, an awkward miscommunication that should have been a run out, but the rest was Misbah. After 19 balls he was on a near comatose 2, and most of his early boundaries were just him trying to connect with Steven Finn down the leg side. He did what he had to do.

Like he did when his team needed a moral compass to base itself around.

Recalling the series in the UAE, Alastair Cook said before the match, "Misbah scored about 95% of his runs against spin, I don't think he'll be facing as much spin as he did there." Mooen Ali came on for the 40th over with England well on top, Misbah dab swept and then bash sweept him; 28 overs later Moeen would bowl his third over. His fourth over went reverse sweep, sweep, reverse sweep, and sweep: 16 runs, done in such stunning efficiency and symmetry it was like he had had them scheduled in his calendar. Another batsman would have made it dangerous or exotic, Misbah scored 16 runs in an over like a dad mowing his lawn. He did what he had to do.

Like he did when the PCB asked him to play on in this tour and against Australia, despite him edging towards retirement.

Then there was only Finn left, with Misbah now 99. Bereft of line and or length, he decided to bounce Misbah from around the wicket. Misbah had been camped on the front foot all day, and now Finn made him think afresh. The crowd had started a slow clap for Misbah, even his team-mates had joined in. Finn had a cluster of catchers on the leg side, and he got one just to behave as he wanted it. The ball hit glove, hip, something, and popped up, but it was short and wide of one of the catchers. Misbah took a walk and composed himself, there were 15 guys on the balcony and about 28,000 in the crowd who looked more nervous than he did. He just took his time.

Like he had to when he waited 1499 days between his third and fourth Tests.

But Finn gets it wrong, instead of being in and at the body of Misbah, the taut athletic ageing body, he is wide outside off stump, and Misbah just guides the ball into a gap and slowly makes his way up the other end for his 100th Test run ever scored in England. It is not flashy, not extravagant, or memorable, just a guide and slow single. There is no hurry, there never has been, it's like Misbah knew one day this would happen, just like this. He gets beyond the crease, gently takes off his gloves and helmet, salutes his balcony like a general after a great battle, and then down onto the ground in the position to kiss the turf.

Instead he does push ups, his orange shoes are in the dirt. Ten push ups.

Like all the times before, the world was waiting for some Pakistan magic, and instead they got Misbah.

Misbah survived the second new ball that Asad Shafiq could not. And as he walked off the field, unbeaten, he looked over at Rahat Ali, the nightwatchman whose sole job was to make it to stumps, who instead decided it was time for a back-foot cover drive against England's most successful bowler of the day, and he laughed. The crowd were clapping, and standing for Misbah, but all he could do was look at Rahat and laugh, like a father who actually couldn't believe what his kid had just done.

Misbah is the father of modern Pakistan cricket, the general of this team, and yet still, to some, the tuk tuk. Just a tuk tuk that performs like a Bentley, saves Pakistan, defies his own age and now has a hundred at Lord's and can still laugh at the absurdity of it all.

They don't often come to see Misbah play, but he plays anyway.