No. 6: Aftab Habib (Part Two)
Aftab and I discuss his ups and downs on the county circuit and his transition out of playing to coaching Hong Kong and Afghanistan.
Did you ever want to do something else?
I always wanted to do some sort of teaching. When I finished at Middlesex in ‘92 (I’d joined them in ‘89), I said to my Dad, “I'm going to go to university. I need to do something else.” I’d lost my love of the game. I was only 21, but I’d been at Middlesex for four seasons and played one first-class game and two Sunday League matches. They had a very strong first team, and it was a closed shop - I wasn’t going anywhere. I remember scoring a double hundred against Worcestershire [2nd XI] - there was a lot of noise from the supporters but I didn’t get a look in. I needed a break from the professional circuit - I’d played a lot of cricket and had become stale. My Dad said, “Why don’t you just play for Reading, have some fun again and see what happens?”
My uncle sold TVs and refrigerators, so I did deliveries off the back of a lorry. I did that for a couple of years, went for a sales job at John Lewis [UK department store] and only lasted a week. Cricket was in my blood, but it was difficult because all of my family members still played, and in the back of my mind, I felt I had failed them at Middlesex. It took some time, but eventually I felt I had something to prove, that I could do it again. I was a little older and wanted it more … I also became more selfish.
I started scoring heavily for Reading, so Berkshire came knocking. I played some Minor Counties again and scored a couple of hundreds. Then one day, Dad answered a call. It was Jack Birkenshaw. Birkey had been down at Somerset and he knew of me down there. He said, “Why don’t you come up to Leicester and have a game with us?” I said I’d give it another shot. So we played against the West Indies … I’d been playing on sticky dogs in Shropshire against guys bowling 60mph powder puffs, and now I’m up against Winston and Kenny Benjamin at Grace Road. I made 4 and 0, struggled through it and thought, ‘I don't really want to be here. I need to go and do something different.’
Jack came up to me and he said, “Afie, I’d like you to play another game.”
I said, “Jack, do you really want me to? Because I'm not sure about this.”
“Kid, look, we like you. We think you can play.”
So I played a one day game against Warwickshire and I had Allan Donald running in at me and Keith Pyper, the wicketkeeper, was standing on the 30 metre circle. I might have made a dozen, not very many. Birkey came up to me again, “We know how good you are. We've heard a lot about you ... Look, you're coming with us to play Oxford University down at The Parks.” Okay, fine. I batted at four and made 174 not out. They gave me a three-year contract on the spot. I never really looked back after that. I finished at Leicestershire in 2006.
I hadn’t thought about it much until now, but I can see that that break after Middlesex helped me. I recharged my batteries and I grew up. I could have easily taken another two or three year contract, sat on my backside in the second team. I would have been done by 25.
What are your fondest memories of the game?
We won the county championship with Leicestershire in 1996. That was incredible. We used only 13 players all season. I had finished with Middlesex in ‘92 and moved to Leicestershire in ‘95, so the icing on the cake was to win the championship against Middlesex. Shaking Mike Gatting’s hand after we won was beautiful. In 1998, we won the championship again. It went down to the final day - Lancashire needed to win and Surrey needed to beat us. Surrey had seven or eight Test players, but I scored a hundred at The Oval and we won. It was great to contribute at the crucial time. That was a pinnacle.
In my early days, getting my first hundred was a significant moment. That is a special moment as a child - a mountain to climb and then you can say, “I’ve done it!” I was 12 years old when I got my first hundred against Sussex under 13s. My dad had bought me a Gray Nicolls Scoop.
One of the funniest memories I have is, oddly, playing against Wasim Akram on a green pitch at Old Trafford on a typically overcast Manchester day. We were 50-5 when Paul Nixon joined me. Nicko was a jack-in-the-box wicketkeeper, always full of beans. It was ridiculous … Akram was bowling 90 miles an hour and the ball was going sideways, both ways. I told Nicko, “He’s probably got a couple of overs left. Let’s see him off.” Anyway, the first ball was short and Nicko pulled him for four. He looks up at Akram and says, “Don’t bowl there, mate.” He bowled him another one, and he pulled him again - “Was, I told you. You can’t keep bowling half-trackers to me.” I stood at the other end, thinking, ‘This is going to be very unpleasant. I’m not going to run.’ Akram had steam coming out of his ears.
The next ball was an in-swinging yorker. Nicko didn’t even pick his bat up and the furniture was demolished, all three stumps just disappeared. But it was a no-ball. Nicko turned around and started rearranging the stumps, and while he was banging them in with his bat handle, he called out to Wasim, “Try again, pal.”
I think we’ve lost some of those characters. Those days of sitting in the clubrooms and sharing a drink and a joke have gone. That was where you listened and learned a lot about the game, too. I’m a traditionalist.
How was your transition out of the game?
It was tough. I went to Essex for three years and then the Big G, Graham Gooch, came and spoke to me at the end of the 2004 season, “Look, Afie, we’ve got Ravi Bopara and Alistair Cook who are going to come and take your slot.” I thought that was going to be the end and then James Whitaker, the managing director of Leicestershire, called me up. “Come back for two years and see how you go. Come back home and finish at Leicestershire.” Those two years were difficult because I was older and had lost the hunger and drive. I just turned up. I hardly played any first class matches - I was playing in the twos and wasn't enjoying it. In the last year, they had a quiet word to me, “Look, we'll just pay you off.” It was a sad ending but it was time for me to finish.
After that, I played a little bit of cricket back at Reading to help out the club, but didn't really enjoy it. I played for Berkshire. Hated it. I just could not relate to it. I’d been a professional cricketer, and here I was dropping down a level to where I first started. It was so slow. My highest score was 85 against Slough who had Chris Lewis and Nantie Hayward. That's the only score I got because they weren’t bowling powder puffs. And I thought, ‘That's it. Time’s up.’
I started coaching one-on-ones in Berkshire. Reading had an overseas player from Hong Kong who was staying in my uncle’s annex, and he said that Robin Singh - the national coach at the time - was coming to the end of his stint, and it just went from there. I had a couple of calls from Hong Kong, went out for an interview, and they gave me a three year contract. They were naturally gifted cricketers but they had no idea about the game. I had to educate them.
We had five people in the office. I organised all of our practices - I would get up at six in the morning and the guys would actually practice with me for two or three hours before they went to work. In the afternoon, I'd have all the kids who came after school every day. On a Saturday, I'd go and watch them play club cricket. At the end of my three years, we started getting some results. Hong Kong won the ACC Trophy [Asian Cricket Council - for associate countries] and played against Pakistan and India in the Asia Cup. The under 19s made their World Cup.
I left because my marriage broke down. My first wife didn't want to live in Hong Kong so I had to come back and try and make it work. We divorced and I had to start all over again in Berkshire. Then out of the blue I got a call from Afghanistan, “Come to Dubai and work with us for a month.” Hong Kong had played them so they knew my work. They were passionate and tough - some weren’t allowed to play cricket because the Taliban wanted them to fight - but also very talented - the best players I’ve coached. They listened and wanted to learn. My Pashto wasn’t very good but my Urdu was, so we got there. They wanted me to move to Kabul …
I started working in Berkshire again, back doing one-to-ones. All of a sudden, I thought, ‘Hey, it's Aftab Habib here. I've got so much to give. Everybody knows me in this area. I'll set up my own academy.’ That was four years ago with 10 kids. Now, I coach 50-60 kids and it’s really enjoyable. I can give something back with the academy. When we were growing up, there weren't the opportunities, there wasn't the coaching or the facilities. We had our mentors that we would speak to, but we learned off each other more than anything else.
I've coached internationally, so I don't think I'll move away again. I've travelled around the world, and now it's about staying put with the family and spending time with the kids.
Lessons?
Cricket grounded me. Even if you’re doing well, you’re still the same person whether you score 100 or 0. It’s just a game of cricket, or today’s game of cricket. But also when it’s your day, enjoy it. If it’s not, it’s someone else’s day and you have to learn to be happy for other people’s success. Remember those good days, think about them on the bad days because you will have plenty of them. I lost my mother at 52 - life is too short to worry about a bad day at cricket.