There's a certain sadness about Babar Azam's mortality

As first tasks go, telling Babar Azam that he was about to be dropped must have been some introduction to selection for Azhar Ali. Welcome to the committee. Before you settle in, here's the mess you've inherited. Mind cleaning it up, pronto?

Thankfully Azhar is used to this kind of stuff given his introduction to international cricket was the soap operatic mess of the 2010 tour of England, and that at one down, it was pretty much his entire JD. He's a good, empathetic man, who probably would have wanted the responsibility of telling Babar he was going to be dropped. It can't have been an easy call, and made no lighter by the almost ironic twist that it was under Babar's captaincy that Azhar's Test career ended, sooner, perhaps, than Azhar would've liked.

These days, of course, teams tiptoe around the idea that anyone is being dropped. "Rested" as the PCB said diplomatically in their press release. A later communication said that Babar had been "spared from the team", which, given recent results and mood, well, you can picture Freud slipping can't you?

Whatever the semantics, it is a big call. A bigly call, even. So big it's difficult to recall a bigger one in recent Pakistan history (maybe Inzi after the 2003 World Cup). Big players have been banned, punished, forced to retire, yes, but dropped for as mundane a reason as form? And make no mistake, they don't come bigger than Babar, Pakistan's best batter, in the conversation to be their greatest ever, their unquestioned all-format captain until not long ago, and - because these things matter - the biggest draw in Pakistan cricket. That he was helped on to that last pedestal by the very board that is now nudging him off it is by the by, of course. The simultaneous absence of Shaheen Shah Afridi and Naseem Shah from the second Test amplifies the sense of a culling of stars, but fast bowlers, Pakistan have always thought, are expendable. The epicentre is Babar.

So yes, a big call. Was it one Pakistan had to make? Is this really the call that turns their fortunes around?

At one level, this is a proper Statement Axing. There's a(nother) new selection committee in town. Pakistan have suffered another record-breaking, earth-shattering loss. Drastic change feels necessary. Scapegoats must be found, and the captain can't be sacked one Test into the series. So sack the former captain. Even by the PCB's standards, this selection committee is an eclectic mix of the outré and strait-laced sensibility - Aaqib Javed and Aleem Dar with Asad Shafiq and Azhar Ali - but it's telling they were unanimous in their view on Babar. The captain and coach weren't involved in the decision, and given their pleas for continuity, it's logical to assume they are not entirely pleased with the call.

It is possible, though, to see a level where it does make sense. That isn't concerned so much with the batting and the returns, because those can be argued either way. Yes, the numbers aren't great. Yes, he's getting dismissed early and he's getting dismissed when he's set. Yes, he's getting beaten on the outside edge and the inside. Yes, he's falling to pace and spin.

No, his form doesn't feel terminally bad. Two years without a half-century sounds like a long stretch, time-wise, but no, nine Tests without one doesn't sound so long Tests-wise. That is part of the problem. Pakistan just don't play that many Tests and those they do come with great irregularity. These nearly two years, for example, include a stretch of no Tests for six months, then nearly five months without one, then almost eight months without one again. How do you get out of a rut and into a run in this stop-start schedule? Ollie Pope not scoring runs in a few Tests, for instance, is less complicated, given there's almost always another Test right around the corner for him to right things. And if Pope has issues, he knows he has Marcus Trescothick, England's batting coach since 2021, to turn to. Babar? Speed dates spend more time getting to know each other than Babar has had with some coaches lately. So given his track record and the general acknowledgment that he remains Pakistan's best batter, retaining him for the remaining two Tests against England would have been far from a terrible call.

Instead, more than the runs or the form is this tangible sense that a break really might do him good, that what he needs most is to decompress. The last couple of years have been especially taxing and toxic. Stripped of the captaincy, given parts of it back, then having to let go again; poor results cascading in tune with administrative clownery; becoming the eye of every storm, whether it is the culture wars over his intent in T20s and ODIs, the obsessive, magnified dissection of his lack of Test runs, the dismissals of his insipid captaincy, or the growing talk of team factions and disunity. Against this, a break should be considered a period of convalescence.

At the very least, it is a moment to pause and breathe and take in the giddying journey of his last few years. Hardly had he established himself as a Test batter in early 2019 than he was rising to all-format captain in 2020 and to global superstardom shortly thereafter. The relentless playing schedule, the burgeoning celebrity and its distorting effects since, have likely sheened onto this period a sense of unreality. It's worth trying to unwrap that. Maybe even for him to tend to his primary occupation, by working on his batting with someone and rediscovering what made him so good.

Risk is inherent, of course, in that genuine resets in the Pakistani context are rare, and in an environment as corrosive as the prevailing one… well, there's as much chance he comes back broken as he does having not taken a meaningful break, and as captain. There's a reason why so many Pakistani cricketers never willingly take a break, because they know well the vagaries of Pakistan selection.

Which is why there is an overriding sense of sadness about all this. Babar wasn't supposed to be just another talented Pakistani cricketer. It really did feel like he was the real deal, the batter who, one day, we would look back on as the undisputed greatest in Pakistan's history, who rode out pace and bounce in Australia and South Africa, who coped expertly with seam and swing in England and New Zealand, who plundered at home and on the subcontinent, and who maybe even won a world title along the way.

He may still get there eventually, but that road is a crooked one now. He's been tarred with a little mortality, suddenly pervious to the tremors and jitters of ordinary cricketers. In the long term, and for a life away from the game, it is probably no bad thing. Call it a life lesson. In the short term, that's hardly consolation.