Cricket, that humdrum little gentleman's game, has had few prima donnas like Shoaib Akhtar. He is the run-away-bride always courting controversy, lusting fame and betraying the spirit of sportsmanship. In an incessant list comes another antic, one which left Asif with a bruised thigh and Akhtar in a contrite state of being.
Some people can not just follow the rules - conformity, it seems, is just blashphemous in the brotherhood of prima donna's. Drugs, hyperextension, diabolics, brawls and indiscipline will, sadly enough, cloud Akhtar's name in the history books. A story of a cricketer with copious talent, who promised much; a story of what could have been. Shoaib Akhtar has written his career's epitaph on Asif's thighs.
Well, Mr Akhtar, you are such a prodigal waste of a talent. He can probably, now, join the ICL - a move that he has been mulling for a while--or act in movies, or write an autobiography detailing his mistreatment and indignation.
However, has someone up there been unkind to Akhtar? For another notable cricket brat, Shane "Laid Many English Nurses" Warne, is in the history books, while Akhtar is, almost, all but history. A travesty of fate, it seems.
