There he was – Mohsin Naqvi, chairman of the Pakistan Cricket Board – seated in the VIP enclosure in Colombo, wearing the serene smile of a man who has already won something. Not a match, certainly. But a cup.
The same Asia Cup he had once spirited away in the UAE with the efficiency of an Olympic sprinter. A trophy India had earned on the field, only to find it travelling to Islamabad. On that surreal evening in Dubai, Naqvi beamed for photographs as if he had personally scored the winning runs.
The great Colombo vanishing act
Yet in Sri Lanka, as Pakistan’s innings unravelled with bureaucratic predictability, the chairman executed his finest move of the evening – the early exit.
Between overs, the VIP seat was suddenly empty. No dramatic farewell. No stoic endurance. Just a quiet withdrawal while the scoreboard completed its civic duty.
This from the man who had spoken grandly of respect, parity, and principles before consenting to play. When the arithmetic turned unfriendly, principle developed urgent travel plans.
Leaving early is a democratic right. But when one has perched proudly with a borrowed trophy in the past, a little stamina in adversity might have helped.
Expecting honour from a ‘Cup Chor.’
Like many Indians, I entertained a naive fantasy. That Naqvi would treat this match as theatre for redemption. That he would rise from his seat, walk across with solemn grace, and return the cup to the Indian team.
A gesture of reconciliation. A restoration of sporting propriety. A nod to honour. But a thief remains a thief, and expecting such nobility from the PCB chief is like expecting a tax defaulter to file voluntarily. It is not how the profession works.
Pride without performance
What stood out in those earlier visuals was not embarrassment but pride. The unmistakable pride of possession. Acquisition mistaken for achievement.
Cricket boards are meant to administer cricket, not curate souvenirs. Cups are won with bat and ball, not with grab-and-go flexibility. Real honour in sport does not lie in clutching trophies. It lies in accepting defeat without fleeing the premises.
Optics and exits
In modern cricket, everything is optics. A handshake matters. A comment matters. A seat left vacant matters. When the chairman departs before the final wicket, it speaks louder than any press release.
And so the image lingers: the Cup Chor who once smiled broadly with unearned silver now slithering out quietly as earned runs accumulated against his side. Returning the cup would have required courage. Leaving the stadium required only an aisle seat.
Enjoyed reading the piece. Better to erase any hype henceforth with a country that is incomparable.