Qadir and the Hero’s Turn

The very name ‘Faisalabad’ must be whispered in certain shores,
Lest hearing it brings memories back, of monstrous Pakistan scores,

Lest hearing it brings memories back and haunts poor Peter Sleep,
Who will count Zaheer Abbas runs, instead of counting sheep.

For Australia were pounded, fairly ground into the dust,
As the Pakistani’s kept their form, and the Aussies kept their rust.

Which meant that Abdul Qadir had the master of them all,
He may as well have bowled a wand and not a cricket ball.

Greg Ritchie earned some credit, with his second innings ton,
He didn’t lose his wicket, though the game’d already gone.

An innings and three runs, it was, the margin of the win,
Impossible to not conclude it came about through spin.

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This entry was posted in 1980s, 1982, Australia, Cricket, Pakistan, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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