Qalandars not just a team, a movement

The story of Lahore Qalandars is a fascinating one. The owners are two brothers, each with a completely contrasting personality. One, Atif Rana, is cheerful and humorous—he can convey serious messages in a lighthearted tone. No matter who he’s talking to, he doesn’t hold back, and sometimes people only realize a day later what he actually meant. Those who meet him once often go on to say, “Atif Rana is my best friend.” He handles the off-field affairs of the Qalandars.

The other brother, Sameen Rana, is a serious and reserved personality. A chartered accountant by profession, he’s a master of his field—no one in the PSL understands finance better. The brothers might never have played cricket even on their rooftop, yet today, they own Pakistan’s most successful franchise: Lahore Qalandars. Sameen also manages the team and deals with both the board and the players. He, along with Atif and team captain Shaheen Shah Afridi, form the core think-tank of the Qalandars.

Shaheen joined the team when he was just a kid, not even sporting a mustache—today, he calls the shots. Other franchises rely on large, highly qualified staff, but the way the Rana brothers took this team to the top with limited resources is truly commendable. While others hired high-profile coaches, the Qalandars’ coach was so low-profile that few even knew his name—and when the league paused, he left and never returned. Yet, the team still emerged as champions. How? People are left scratching their heads.

Sikandar Raza, the cricketing prince of Zimbabwe, doesn’t lack money. Yet when I met him in Dubai this January, he told me he would come to Pakistan well before the PSL began to train with Abdullah Shafique. When the league resumed after a break, he came for just one day, helped the team reach the playoffs, and left again. No one imagined he would return for the final—but there he was, arriving just ten minutes before the match, present at the time of the national anthem. Critics like Imad Wasim and Shoaib Akhtar attributed this to money, but I can say with absolute certainty—money had nothing to do with it. It was all about commitment and love for the team.

Most teams go into hibernation after the PSL ends and only awaken before the next edition. Not the Qalandars—they stay active all year. Their Player Development Program (PDP) was once mocked by critics. Today, the same people praise it after seeing players like Haris Rauf emerge from it. This year, a young boy from Parachinar, Muhammad Naeem, took the league by storm.

Watch the Qalandars’ social media videos: top stars act like kids just to win an iPhone after matches—despite being able to afford dozens of them. It’s all about the team environment. Fakhar Zaman’s son is often seen in the dressing room, or Shaheen Afridi’s father on stage during the prize ceremony. That’s what the “Qalandars Family” means.

They don’t need to advertise their PDP—every year, a new poster boy emerges. This year, it was Naeem. Any other team might have dropped him after a few bad games, but Qalandars backed him. Some claimed he was Shaheen’s relative or had a strong reference, but in truth, Naeem had no connection to Shaheen whatsoever. He came from a modest background in Parachinar—what kind of influence could he possibly have? Once he started performing, all the doubts vanished. Salman Mirza also had an outstanding season.

Fakhar Zaman, Haris Rauf, Abdullah Shafique—all consider this team their own. It’s understandable for Pakistanis, but when a foreign star like Shakib Al Hasan says, “There should be a franchise like this in Bangladesh,” you know there’s something special.

Poor Shaheen—ever since he became national captain, Babar Azam’s keyboard warriors turned against him, portraying him as a villain on social media. But now that he’s the PSL’s top wicket-taker and has led his team to a third title in four years, all are silent. He earned so much respect he was even named captain of the PSL’s team of the tournament.

Just a week before the final, Shaheen confidently told me, “If God wills, there’s a 99.9% chance we will win the trophy,”—and he was right. I’ve never seen such confidence in a player. People once claimed Lahore only won because of Rashid Khan. Well, Rashid wasn’t even here this time—and they still won. What now?

This year’s PSL faced many challenges. The schedule had to be adjusted due to the Champions Trophy. A clash with the IPL meant many star players didn’t participate. Indian hostility even caused disruptions in matches. Ironically, India only blocked the Qalandars’ social media page. Later, American diplomat were spotted in the stadium, wearing Qalandars jerseys—sending a strong positive message about Pakistan.

The early matches were one-sided, and the absence of DRS in later stages affected engagement. Fan interest waned during the tournament, but the final brought back the energy and atmosphere. The match was thrilling—no team in franchise cricket had ever chased 202 runs in a final before. Qalandars did it, giving the league a perfect ending.

PCB paid a powerful tribute to Pakistan’s armed forces who had defeated Indian aggression. Mohsin Naqvi deserves major credit for this. Atif Rana ensured he received a medal from President Asif Zardari, despite his initial refusal. It was Salman Naseer’s first tournament as CEO. He performed well, though mistakes were made, and issues arose. He must realize he can’t do everything alone—a team is essential.

This league belongs to Pakistan. And in the end, the victory was Pakistan’s. When the Qalandars owner took a massive national flag to the ground, that’s the message he delivered.