Qamar Ahmed: Custodian of cricket's soul who covered 400 Test matches

 JournalismPakistan.com |  Published last month |  Dr. Nauman Niaz (TI)

ISLAMABAD—For the very first time, I stepped into the press box, that sanctum where cricket becomes scripture, it was during New Zealand's tour of Pakistan in 1990. A hush, a rustle, a stir of reverence seemed to ripple through the gathered sports journalists, elite correspondents, and a few from New Zealand as well. And then I saw him, an unassuming figure, bespectacled, urbane, clad in a well-cut blue jacket with a tie that delineated the faint insignia of some half-remembered cricketing odyssey. He moved not with fanfare, but with the quiet assurance of one who had long since earned the homage of the game.

First Encounter with a Cricket Legend

When he smiled, the room itself seemed to brighten. He extended his hand in that old-fashioned courtesy which speaks of breeding rather than habit. I knew him at once: Qamar Ahmed. The name alone carried the weight of sobriety and credence. A seasoned correspondent of the BBC, his words had adorned the pages of The Cricketer, Pakistan, his columns a regular adornment of the Dawn, and his keen hand the editor of Willis Cricket Annuals.

But it was not only his résumé that struck the imagination. Qamar possessed that rare gift, the gift of narrative. His talk flowed like a well-bowled over, unhurried yet inexorable, tales spilling forth that became at once addictive and instructive. His quips, droll and nimble, provoked laughter that lingered like the echo of applause across a sunlit ground. Thus, quite without design, was forged between us the bond of pupil and mentor. He corrected with precision, he guided with patience, and when we young apprentices strayed from the straight line of fact, he rebuked with kindness that left no sting but only gratitude.

Still Going Strong at 88

Even now, at 88, the old thoroughbred shows no slackening of pace. He pursues life with the same appetite as in youth, attending book launches, debating cricket with an undimmed fervour on television, his presence as much a part of the game's texture as the white flannels or the green turf itself.

More Than Just a Cricket Journalist

There are some men in cricket whose presence is less an occupation than a testament, as though they have been entrusted with the guardianship of the game's soul. Qamar Ahmed belongs to that rare breed. He has carried cricket not merely as a profession but as a faith, his writings and his voice steeped in the same reverence as the hush that falls over a ground at the bowler's run-up. In him, one senses the old values, dignity, patience, a fidelity to truth, kept alive amid the clamour of modernity. He does not merely watch cricket; he listens to it, interprets it, and translates its cadences into language that is itself a continuation of the game. To encounter Qamar is to be reminded that cricket is not simply played, it is lived.

The Press Box as Sacred Sanctuary

For such a man, the press box has always been more than timber and steel; it has been a cloister, a sanctuary where the murmurs of the crowd and the click of typewriter keys merged into the same hymn. In the quiet concentration of his craft, Qamar has given voice to the game's deeper music, that subtle symphony of cricket, of the long shadows of late afternoon game stretching across the turf. His sentences carry not the mechanics of reporting but the resonance of something consecrated. In his words, the game sheds its statistics and scorecards, revealing instead its poetry, its philosophy, its rhythm of hope and despair, patience and triumph.

Witness to Cricket's Evolution

He has lived long enough to see cricket shift through its many disguises, its timeless matches and languid rest days, its sudden eruptions of one-day carnival, its floodlit revolutions. Yet through it all, he has remained, like an old oak in the village green, steadfast amid the seasons of change. The values he embodies, reverence for truth, loyalty to craft, devotion to the higher spirit of cricket, have made him more than a chronicler. They have made him a custodian, the quiet conscience of a game often threatened by its own excesses.

A Guide Who Understands Character

To those who know him, Qamar is more than a journalist. He is a companion in the long journey of cricket, a guide who reminds us that this game, more than most, is about character. He is not seduced by the neon glare of fame or the quick applause of novelty; his gaze rests instead on the eternal things. The dignity of a batsman defying the odds, the grace of a bowler working tirelessly against unhelpful skies, the camaraderie of teammates bound not by victory but by struggle, these are the truths that Qamar has sought and preserved.

And so, when he writes, one does not simply read; one listens. His voice carries the echo of an older world where cricket was still described as a way of life, as a moral landscape as much as a field of play. In that sense, Qamar Ahmed stands as a reminder that cricket, at its noblest, is not about records broken or money earned. It is about memory, meaning, and the profound humanity of a game that has, for centuries, mirrored the soul of those who love it.

From First-Class Cricketer to Cricket Chronicler

Qamar Ahmed, born 23 October 1937, stands not just as a journalist of cricket but as one of its faithful custodians. Before the typewriter, there was cricket. A first-class cricketer for Sind and Hyderabad, he had his name entered into the history with more than 453 Test matches reported, yet also with feats on the field itself. He made his debut in the Quaid-e-Azam Trophy of 1956–57, a match in which he picked 3 for 60 against Karachi Whites. In a curious symmetry, he and young Mushtaq Mohammad, likewise debuting, dismissed one another, a moment of cricketing serendipity, as though the game itself conspired to entwine their fates.

Sind's team faded, but Qamar's career endured. Hyderabad became his new theatre, and in 1959–60 against Khairpur, he bowled them into defeat with 6 for 36, his left-arm spin a weave of guile and patience. He captained Hyderabad with dignity, if not with triumph, in 1961–62, and though his side faltered, his spirit never did. His bat, usually reticent, found its voice with an unbeaten 68 against Karachi A in 1962–63, the sort of innings that speaks less of averages than of resilience.

The Man Who Dismissed Five Mohammad Brothers

And in the curious annals of cricket, he holds an eccentric yet immortal distinction: Peter Oborne, in Wounded Tiger, reminds us that Qamar achieved the rare feat of dismissing five of the Mohammad brothers, Hanif, Mushtaq, and Sadiq, among them, giants of Pakistan's cricketing lineage. Such achievements, half anecdote, half history, fit seamlessly into his tale, a tale spun as much from lore as from ledger.

Qamar Ahmed remains, above all, the embodiment of cricket as a civilising art, a man whose very presence assures us that the game is not just played, nor just written about, it is lived.

From Literature Student to Global Cricket Journalist

It was at the University of Sindh, amid the cadences of English Literature, that Qamar Ahmed first drank deeply from the well of letters. From there, he strode into the bustling newsroom of the Indus Times in Hyderabad, before destiny carried his pen onto a global stage. Since 1963, he has wandered the highways and byways of freelance journalism, a pilgrim of the press box, until that morning in Sharjah, January of 2014, when he joined the rare company of John Woodcock and Richie Benaud as the third man in history to have covered 400 Test matches. Now the number soars to 453. By then, he had already witnessed 732 One-Day Internationals, and in contemporary times, he has attended 743 One-Day Internationals. Nine World Cups, an odyssey of cricketing dramaturgy observed through the eyes of one who never just reported but interpreted, with the sensibility of poet and historian alike. Added to the list are one T 20 Women World Cup final, four Women World Cup finals, and has been a correspondent since 1983.

A Literary Legacy in Cricket Writing

The books, those bound repositories of his craft, stand as milestones along this pilgrimage:

• Pakistan Book of Cricket (annual, 1976–1999)
• Testing Time (1983)
• Showdown: The Story of Pakistan's Tour of the West Indies 1993 (1993)
• Playing for Pakistan: An Autobiography by Hanif Mohammad with Qamar Ahmed (1999)
• An Artist's Impression of the Golden Greats of Pakistan Cricket (2002)
• For Cricket and Country by Waqar Hasan with Qamar Ahmed (2002)

Pakistan Cricket's Voice and Memory

Every Test-playing nation, it seems, has a raconteur of its soul, one who mentors the young and interprets the old, one who becomes both memory and conscience. For Pakistan, that voice is Qamar Ahmed. Since the 1970s, his reports have become the pulse of cricket's narrative; his presence in the press box, paternal, almost sacerdotal, guiding fledgling journalists with a firm hand and gentle counsel. He is at once participant and spectator in Pakistan's living cricketing history.

Far More Than a Game: A Life Story

His autobiography, Far More Than a Game, is not just a memoir of sport but a map of a life lived at cricket's beating heart. In it, he does not decorate anecdotes for vanity, but recalls them in the clean, uncluttered light of truth. From the tumult of Partition in 1947, when his family's fate was bound up with Hindu landlords who sheltered them, to his later reconciliation with those protectors during Pakistan's 1970s tour of India, his story encompasses not only cricket but the sweep of subcontinental destiny. He confesses to football as his first love, before cricket in Hyderabad claimed him utterly, drawing him from local clubs into first-class recognition. He nearly, almost, wore the green cap of Pakistan, but fate kept him just outside the national eleven, a left-arm spinner called upon, instead, to sharpen the bats of those who did.

Encounters with Cricket's Greatest Figures

The array of his recollections is rich with personalities: Sir Donald Bradman, media baron Kerry Packer, and the noble presence of Nelson Mandela. With Sunil Gavaskar, he shared counsel; with the Mohammad brothers, he shared wickets, dismissing Sadiq, even against Hanif's captainly orders. These pages throb with encounters that are both the privilege of proximity and the artistry of observation.

There is no self-pity, no plaintive chord, only the sound of a man playing his innings with grace. He failed his intermediate examinations because his heart rebelled against science and leaned instead toward letters. His father frowned; his family sighed. Yet he followed his own compass, and it has led him to this: not a physician of bodies, but a physician of cricket's memory. Today, we hold his book in our hands, not ours.

Add to this a gallery of photographs, each a captured breath of time from childhood with film actor Mohammad Ali, to a road journey from London to Pakistan with Ejaz Durrani, to the solemn mention in Dr. Ali Bacher's testimony before the King's Commission. His checklist, like a scorecard, is improbably complete, every column filled, every box ticked.

The Historic 400th Test Match Milestone

When Pakistan and Sri Lanka contested their Test in Sharjah, and Qamar reached the ineffable summit of his 400th Test, it was not just a statistic. It was a benediction, a recognition that here stands a man whose pen has been not only witness but interpreter of the game's very spirit. For in Qamar Ahmed's prose, as in his life, cricket ceases to be only a match and result; it becomes literature.

A Dual Legacy: Player and Writer

Born in Mughal Serai, he is remembered both for his contributions as a cricketer and as one of the most respected cricket writers and broadcasters. A right-hand batsman and a slow left-arm orthodox bowler, Qamar represented Hyderabad (Pakistan) and Sind in domestic cricket. As a left-arm spinner, Qamar Ahmed possessed all the qualities of a fine bowler. Despite this early promise, his legacy in cricket would eventually be defined not on the field but in the press box.

An Outstanding Broadcasting and Writing Career

Qamar Ahmed carved out an outstanding career as a freelance cricket writer and broadcaster. By the end of the 2006 Test series between Pakistan and the West Indies, he had already covered 348 Test matches, over 600 One-Day Internationals, and every single Cricket World Cup. His byline had graced leading English newspapers, and he has contributed articles to dailies and magazines worldwide. He also worked with international agencies such as Reuters and AFP. Beyond print, he has been an engaging voice on television and radio, working for various channels across the globe, including TVNZ during the 1992 World Cup in Australia and New Zealand.

The Path Not Taken: Nearly Playing for Pakistan

Once upon a youthful season, long before the ink of journalism stained his fingers, Qamar Ahmed turned the ball in his left hand, a spinner of guile, contending alongside Nasim-ul-Ghani for a berth in the Pakistan squad bound for the West Indies in 1957–58. The chance passed, as cricketing chances so often do, like a fine edge unheard in the clatter of applause. Yet Qamar, now in his twilight, aged and wise, is no ghost of forgotten cricket. Even at seventy-six he remained a fixture in the press box, a steady silhouette wherever Pakistan strode onto the Test arena, or in England, the land that became his permanent haven for more than four decades.

Inspired by Keith Miller and Early Journalism Days

In a conversation, the globe-trotting scribe cast his gaze backwards over a career that traversed nearly every Test-playing nation, save Bangladesh. With a voice half recollection, half benediction, he spoke of milestones observed, histories written in sweat and sunshine, chronicles that bore his witness. The genesis of his calling was humble. As a student, poring over the elegant columns of Keith Miller in Dawn, he felt the stirrings of cricket writing's enchantment. Soon enough, Hyderabad's Indus Times unfurled, and its sports editor, H.M.S. Baig, beckoned the young scholar of English Literature at Sindh University to submit words on cricket. Thus began a journey that would carry him from the cloisters of academia to the pavilions of the cricketing world. 'It was thrilling,' he confessed, 'to see my words in print.'

The Freelance Journey Begins

A brief sojourn as in charge of the fledgling PPI news agency in Hyderabad marked his only salaried post. From 1961 to 1963, he balanced the precarious scales of first-class cricket and journalism before setting forth upon the unanchored seas of freelance writing, a self-captained voyage that would define his life.

The Challenges of Early Sports Journalism

He recalled with wry amusement the austere rigours of reporting in those days: the tyranny of telex machines, the scarcity of direct dial, the unreliability of electricity and telephone lines. Meeting deadlines required stamina of body and patience of soul. 'There were few guides, few mentors,' he said, 'and scarcely a fraternity of fellow journalists. Today, the world's communications rest at one's fingertips. Truly, a revolution.'

Building a Career in England and Beyond

England, in 1964, drew him into its embrace. Cricket was his passport, journalism his vocation. Though the mainstream doors of Fleet Street were slow to open, he found a window through the BBC Urdu Service in the 1970s, and once through, he never turned back. Assignments cascaded in from every cricketing land, and his voice grew familiar not only in print but over the airwaves, radio, and television alike. 'I preferred to be my own captain,' he admitted, 'even if the seas were rough and the wage uncertain.'

Perseverance Through Hardship

The hardships were real. He spoke of scraping through with odd jobs at the London School of Economics, the British Law Society, and even oil companies. Yet perseverance lent its reward: his byline began to grace The Guardian, The Times, the Daily Telegraph, Dawn, Reuters, AFP, and countless others. His commentary became the companion of listeners across continents.

Memorable Encounters and Global Experiences

The jewels in his memory's diadem glowed brightly: meeting Sir Don Bradman on his first Australian voyage; interviewing Nelson Mandela in Soweto after the great man's release; wandering amongst the heritages of the world, the Taj Mahal at dawn, Niagara's thunder, Victoria Falls' grandeur, the wildlife of Africa that stirred his heart. For Qamar, cricket was never divorced from civilisation itself; it was the music of a wider symphony. He worked alongside titans of the press box: John Woodcock, John Arlott, Tony Cozier, Christopher Martin-Jenkins, and Omar Kureishi. Their virtues, articulate, tireless, unbiased, devoted, he absorbed with reverence, and now recites them as a litany of professional faith.

Humble About Historic Achievement

When asked about his crowning achievement, his 400th Test match, reported in Sharjah, 2014, he shrugged it away with characteristic modesty: 'Just another match,' he murmured. 'I never dreamed of such a tally when I began. God has been kind.'

Witnessing Cricket's Transformation

Yet he is not blind to change. The Test of his youth, with its rest days and packed houses, has yielded ground to the commerce of one-day cricket, to the razzle of coloured clothing, white balls, black sightscreens, and floodlit evenings conjured in the wake of Kerry Packer's revolution. He has witnessed cricket evolve from a pastime to a business, from a stage to a spectacle.

Qamar Ahmed endures, as player, as witness, as writer, as cricket's quiet custodian, his prose a pavilion wherein the game will forever be preserved.

The Living Chronicle of Cricket History

And so, when the long chronicle of Qamar Ahmed is set beside the history of cricket, one finds not only the story of a man but the echo of the game itself, as it has lived and breathed across generations. His career has not been a straight highway, measured in milestones and trophies, but a winding pilgrimage that has gathered with it the scents, the voices, and the cadences of cricket's most human moments. To read him, or to hear him speak, is to sense a life aligned to a rhythm larger than the self, a rhythm that belongs to the very heartbeat of cricket.

Cricket as Parable and Philosophy

In his presence, the game is never reduced to a tally of runs or a register of wickets; it becomes again what it always was at its noblest: an expression of time, character, and destiny. He reminds us that the scoreboard, that harsh accountant of victory and defeat, is but the surface of a deeper reality. Behind every number lies the patience of a batsman weathering the storm, the guile of a bowler luring his prey, the roar of a crowd lifting or lamenting with each turn of fortune. Qamar has never allowed those truths to be forgotten. His writing and his voice have been bridges, carrying us from the ephemeral fact to the enduring meaning.

Cricket, in the world he describes, is not just a match; it is a parable. It tells of discipline and fortitude, of the strange alchemy by which solitude at the crease transforms into companionship with history. It tells of how defeat can be borne with dignity and triumph worn with humility. It tells of continuity, that the game a child watches in wonder is the same one his grandfather once cherished. And Qamar, in his faithfulness, has been the interpreter of these parables. He has been both scribe and celebrant at the altar of cricket.

Preserving Cricket's True Spirit in Modern Times

Now, as the seasons of his life turn to autumn, there is a grandeur in his steadfastness. He has seen cricket lose some of its innocence and gain in spectacle; he has watched it transform into commerce and industry, and yet he has preserved within his own spirit the flame of what it truly is. To him, cricket remains still a gentleman's pact, a theatre of patience, still a field upon which human beings reveal the essence of themselves. This fidelity, kept across decades, is itself an innings worthy of honour.

A Testament to Service and Reverence

What then is the meaning of Qamar Ahmed's life's work? It is not only that he has covered hundreds of matches, nor that he has brushed shoulders with giants. It is that he has shown us what it means to hold something dearer than oneself, to serve a game as though serving a truth. His story is not about the heights he has reached, but about the values he has kept alive —values that may otherwise have been lost in the clamor of modernity.

And so, Qamar Ahmed endures, not as a statistic, nor as a name upon a byline alone, but as a living testament that cricket, when embraced with reverence, becomes more than a game. It becomes a way of being, a philosophy of life, a quiet, unwavering act of faith.

Qamar Ahmed's numbers may not startle the eye, but in their modesty lies a charm familiar to cricket's oldest souls. His was a career of whispered contributions, of resilience and quiet craft, the kind Cardus himself might have described as cricket played not for immortality in the scorebook, but for the eternal grace of the game itself.

Dr. Nauman Niaz is a civil award winner (Tamagha-i-Imtiaz) in Sports Broadcasting & Journalism, and is the sports editor at JournalismPakistan.com. He is a regular cricket correspondent, having covered 54 tours and three ICC World Cups, and having written over 3500 articles. He has authored 15 books and is the official historian of Pakistan Cricket (Fluctuating Fortunes IV Volumes - 2005). His signature show, Game On Hai, has been the highest in ratings and acclaim.