This Shoaib Akhtar, such an actor

NEW DELHI, November 2: Shoaib Akhtar is famous for being famous. If you have heard of death, taxes and cricket, then you would not be excused for not having heard of him. Friday's spectators at the Ferozesah Kotla didn't need excusing. Not with the full-on reality show of a man who is so 21st century in his ability to sell himself.
Even the practice game that was the Delhi-Pakistan encounter was stage enough for Akhtar to go full tilt — but not while bowling, since a mind as intelligent as his realises the importance of conserving energy for the more-rewarding exercise of ego-surfing.
And not while chasing the ball, because the act of saving runs might elicit a few claps, but certainly not gasps. What draws gasps is a lollipop of a catch being taken with the theatrics of the fielder contriving to be on his back while pouching the ball. He did it.
On view was an education in how to draw attention to one's self: eyeballs are guaranteed when one is batting, bowling or fielding; it is what he does in between that makes Akhtar Akhtar.
With the ball clearly sliding down the leg side, it took Akhtar to realise that an exaggerated, prolonged lbw appeal was a Kodak moment. And it took Akhtar to be all concentration while 'unemployed' on the ground — checking whether the crowd is watching you or not demands concentration.
Akhtar's mastery of his art ensured that there was no on-field verbal sparring. That, after all, would entail two people — the sledger and the sledged — being in the spotlight. Sharing, and of all things the spotlight, is not his style.
Come afternoon, and with no chance of being back in the middle with a bat, he rose to the challenge of keeping himself in the public eye. Done up in sleveless vest, all the better to show off his biceps, and shorts overriding black tights, our man emerged, ostensibly for a mid-afternoon workout at the in-stadia gym. On his sweaty return, if he slipped on a constable's beret, it was because a theatrical performance demands that the performer doff his cap to his appreciative audience.
In Akhtar's world there is no such thing as enough. Hence, the late-afternoon appearance on the dressing-room balcony. Admittedly, he couldn't help it if the crowd cheered for him, but he couldn't help being the way he is either.
There were many Akhtars on display on Friday: narcissist, actor, narcissist, narcissist, actor... and so on. Nobody can accuse him of being repetitive or a caricature of anyone but his own unique self.