Squash’s most famous dies
Hashim Khan, the biggest name in squash history, died last week, aged 100. His story – how he progressed from a poor boy in a remote Indian village to become a revered figure in international sport – defies belief.
It’s said he was born in 1914, though he may have been older.
Anyway, he grew up near Peshawar in North-West Frontier Province in India.
At 12 he became a ball boy at the local British military club and learned about squash, playing barefoot in open- air, plastercovered brick courts.
Eventually he became a soughtafter opponent for the British officers, and a coach.
In 1944, Khan, then 30, made a two-day train ride to Bombay to compete in a regional tournament. He won the event and returned to win it twice more.
Then came the partition of India.
The new country of Pakistan, eager to announce itself, flew Khan to Britain for the 1951 British Open, the unofficial world championship.
He was a sensation. He was only 1.6m (5ft 3in), balding and bow-legged. He gripped his racket virtually on the shaft. But he had unheard of court speed and his ball control was remarkable.
He beat the defending champion, Egyptian Mahmoud Karim, 9-5, 9-0, 9-0 in the final. In a sport dominated by young players, he was the world’s best at 37.
Khan captured six more British Opens, the last in 1958, when he was 44. By then his reputation was secure and he had sons, cousins and nephews to carry on the Khan dynasty.
Coming from Peshawar, now a hotbed of problems near the Pakistan- Afghanistan border, they were tough, durable players and far too good for everyone else.
I interviewed Khan during the 1981 British Open, when, aged 67, he won the vintage section against players 12 years younger.
He threw me when his response to my interview request was to ask how much I was offering. I told him that in New Zealand we didn’t pay for interviews.
He seemed fine with that and winked, pointing at a man nearby. ‘‘He’s my agent and likes me to ask,’’ he said.
Khan told me he did little specific training in his heyday. His daily practice matches with the other Khans kept him squashfit.
He had fond memories of New Zealand, touring here twice in the 1950s. He would play the top six or eight players from the area and beat them one after another, while maintaining a running commentary in his pidgin English.
New Zealand players I’ve spoken to from that era swear he was the best ever, but they were new to squash, and perhaps easily impressed.
I once asked Dardir, a famous coach and the Khans’ major rival during the 1950s, if Khan was the best.
Dardir said that though
it might sound strange, Hashim was probably the greatest player ever.
He flew around the world running clinics, signing autographs (always in English and Arabic), winning tournaments and playing exhibitions.
He was Pakistan’s first national hero. A million people greeted him when he returned in 1951.
In 1960 he moved to Detroit and then, in 1973, Denver. At many clubs in the Ivy Leagued world of American squash, Khan was the first person of colour and the first Muslim to play on their courts.
He won over everyone with his sparkling personality.
Though squash was a minor sport, he featured in Life, Sports Illustrated, Newsweek, New York Times and so on.
His story was just too compelling to ignore.