Amla's ideal

Mark Nicholas in Cricinfo



"I thought I could add value and I'd like to believe I have added value. I'm really surprised some people have suggested it was not my choice. You don't look like me in this world without being firm on what you want to do." - Hashim Amla, one week ago



There was something almost chilling about it: "In this world." An unfair world. A world where Muslims are mistrusted because a radical few threaten the perception of a beautiful faith. Amla's journey has long been challenged. The beard. The objection to wearing a beer sponsor's endorsement. Apartheid. That backlift! And more. Yes, a singular man.

To relinquish the cricket captaincy of your country is a painful thing. Many have shed tears. Many more have felt the sweat from their neck and the quiver of their lip. A lifetime's ambition tossed away out of choice.

But neither the many, nor the many more, have had as much at stake as Amla. He stands for an ideal. He speaks for the marginalised. He is hope. He is strength. He is faith. His elevation made all things possible. But he chose to give it away. He confirmed this invasive and weighty position was not for him.
Of course he added value. Each moment spent with Amla is valuable. His calm is an ever- present, a blessing. He speaks wisely and on an even keel. Amla will tell you that it is never as good as you think it is and it is never as bad as you think it is. In the age of confident youth, his counsel is worth its weight in runs.

The trouble was, no runs. A period of famine at a time of defeats withers the mind. For South Africa, the runs mattered most. Thus, on top of the sheer overload of responsibility came the fear of failure. It is a captain's bad dream. Silly, really. Years of dreams to get you there and then night after night with dreams that examine your ability to cope.

Probably - and this notion comes without evidence - Amla was the choice for a nation that needed his background to make a statement. Transformation comes in many forms but if the leader represents its credentials, the on-sell is more straightforward. AB de Villiers was one choice, Amla the other. If the choice is too difficult to call, go with the better messenger. Better still go with Amla, who is the message. In his heart he must have known this. What a burden.

He did just fine, representing his people with honour and commitment. He had some bowlers, though not the depth of attack given to his predecessors. He won some series and then came badly undone in India, a spill that cost his country the treasured record of not having lost away from home since 2006.

The clue to his mind was in the way it applied itself to batting. In India, all he could dare was frozen defence. Set free, few men have used a bat to express themselves so accurately. Amla has an untroubled rhythm and flow. He plays thoughtful innings that reach crescendos and then return to their foundations so that each part is rebuilt in the anticipation of overwhelming performance. These innings adapt to their environment and to the format for which they are intended. In them he unites South African discipline with Asian flair, and vice versa - the perfect hybrid. But in India there was none of this. Indeed, he appeared broken. Against the spinning ball on pitches of wretched bounce, block after rigid block tortured his soul.

He might have survived his own assessment had the first Test against England, in Durban, been less stressful, or simply had a better result. But no. He was back in India, fighting to survive something he knew was lost. And that something was his conviction that he could do the job better than the next man. Without it, the game was up. At the press conference announcing closure, he said as much.

It might seem odd that he stood down having made 200 in Cape Town and saved the game. But he made 200 because he had already released his mind. In a single decision he had come from unbearable weight to the lightness of being. No mask, no message, just an innings with clear purpose and a rewarding conclusion.

Much is asked of international captains. Some treat these questions lightly; Brendon McCullum for example. Others wear them better than imagined; Misbah-ul-Haq for sure. One or two close shop: MS Dhoni is a man of smoke and mirrors. A few bunker down and later emerge rebooted: Alastair Cook. Occasionally a heart is worn magnificently on its sleeve: think Graeme Smith.

Smith's part in the new age of South African cricket is a remarkable sporting story. By his own estimation, it took five years to be any good at the job. In that time he learned more about himself than he thought was there. He was utterly without prejudice and therefore above suspicion. He was able to separate political issues from performance; to forgive if not forget; to rally and to cry. He spoke comfortably of shortcomings and shrewdly of ambition. Perhaps most notably, he converted a suspect and awkward batting technique into a mechanism for sustainable and substantial run-making.

Amla must have wondered how on earth he did it all. But there was a difference. Smith represented something already there. Amla was the chosen face of something long fought for but still not achieved. About that there remains great bitterness. So much so that cricketers of the past - those who represented South Africa before and during isolation - are not recognised by the regime of the present. I'll wager Amla hates that every bit as much as Smith mourns it. In the world occupied by the two most recent out-going South African cricket captains, all men are equal.

While Haroon Lorgat, the CEO of Cricket South Africa, resolutely denies quotas at international level, the agenda is clear. But it is not organic. In a Machiavellian way, Amla was a ticket. De Villiers is not. South African cricket is at the crossroads. The next route taken may define its place at the top table of the game. Amla simply could not reconcile such a responsibility alongside the need to win tosses and take a gamble; give speeches; make life-changing decisions for and about players; hold catches; stop boundaries; score runs and sleep tight.

His decision was made for the greater good and for personal harmony. It is a brave thing to abandon a dream. And a smart thing. His stock has risen and his impression will hold firm. De Villiers is a wonderful alternative and his voice must be heard. South African cricket is lucky to have such men in their ranks. It would be wise to give them equal standing and a decisive say in the future.

Meanwhile, the former captain's resilience and clarity have made South Africa stronger than a week ago. England will be more than aware of this.