Faith & Cricket

In his seminal book 'Qur’an and Cricket', Malaysian political scientist and historian Farish A. Noor argues that Islam is not confined to doctrine or ritual but is lived through everyday practices — including leisure, sport, and popular culture. Cricket, a colonial inheritance, becomes in his work a powerful metaphor for how Muslims inhabit modernity without abandoning faith. Contemporary cricket offers striking confirmation of this argument.

Cricket has always had its rituals — some institutional, others intensely personal. Yet in an age when Islamophobia shapes public debate from London to Sydney, the cricket field tells a markedly different story. Here, Muslim cricketers assert their faith with quiet confidence, largely untroubled by the anxieties dominating political discourse. Many — from Moeen Ali and Adil Rashid (England) to Usman Khawaja (Australia), Ajaz Patel (New Zealand), Hashim Amla (South Africa), and Akeal Hosein (West Indies) — are of South Asian heritage, communities often viewed with suspicion in the societies they represent. On the field, however, they are welcomed first as professionals; their faith becomes simply another dimension of who they are.

This reflects Noor’s central claim: the supposed divide between the sacred and the secular is largely artificial. Muslims do not step out of their faith when they enter modern public spaces. They carry it with them — naturally, selectively, and without spectacle.

Like international footballers, many cricketers fast during Ramadan — a quiet reminder that faith often operates in the background of professional sport. The fragility of this easy acceptance, however, can appear in subtler ways. During Ramadan, Muslim cricketers such as Moeen Ali, Hashim Amla, Rashid Khan, and other Afghanistan team members continue to compete at the highest level while fasting. During IPL seasons that coincide with Ramadan, it is common to see Afghan players briefly rush to the dressing room at sunset to break their fast with a date and a glass of water, before returning to the field without ceremony or spectacle. Amla even scored a century while fasting. Such moments demonstrate that neither cricket nor religious faith need stand in each other’s way — instead, they coexist as part of a disciplined, integrated way of life.

If fasting shows how faith is practised on the field, Moeen Ali’s career reveals how it is negotiated in public life. Moeen has said, “First of all, I’m a Muslim, then English, then Pakistani,” a statement that resists the demand for singular loyalty. Earlier in his career, he feared that growing a beard would mark him as “extremist.” Today, he wears his identity without apology, explaining that his role is not to argue but to show — through conduct — that Muslim life is compatible with professionalism and excellence. This is lived Islam in Noor’s sense: ethical, embodied, and unannounced. The same applies to Adil Rashid, who has spoken of how faith gives him calm in high-pressure moments. When Moeen Ali and Rashid quietly stepped away from champagne celebrations following England’s 2019 World Cup victory, it was not an act of defiance but one of belief. Their teammates respected the gesture. In a moment acknowledging this difference with warmth rather than discomfort, England captain Eoin Morgan responded to a reporter’s question about the “luck of an Irishman” by saying: “We had Allah with us as well… we had the rub of the green.” His comment reflected the diverse backgrounds, cultures, and faiths within the England team.

This moment captures precisely what 'Qur’an and Cricket' insists upon: plural practices can coexist within shared public spaces without threatening cohesion.

Few figures embody this balance more fully than Hashim Amla. Amla credited Islam with discipline and grounding, refused to wear alcohol sponsorship, and prayed privately in dressing rooms. Despite enduring racist abuse — including being labelled a “terrorist” on air — he never diluted his beliefs. Instead, he commanded respect through restraint, dignity, and performance. For Noor, this is how religious authority is often exercised today: not through proclamation, but through conduct.

Across the cricketing world, similar moments continue to unfold. Usman Khawaja openly celebrates his roots, once acknowledging his mother in a pink hijab in the stands — a quiet affirmation of belonging. Ajaz Patel’s sajda after taking all ten wickets against India in Mumbai in 2021 was accepted without controversy, a spontaneous act of gratitude rather than a political statement. Such moments suggest that in certain cricketing cultures, authenticity no longer provokes suspicion.

Taken together, these examples demonstrate a quiet transformation. Faith on the field is no longer treated as disruption. It has become part of cricket’s evolving grammar. The sport that once demanded uniformity is being reshaped by players who insist on bringing their whole selves to the crease.

In Noor’s terms, cricket has become one of the spaces where Muslim modernity is most visibly negotiated. When Noor embarked on his five-year journey through religious seminaries in Pakistan, India, Indonesia, and Southern Thailand — spaces often dismissed as “jihad factories” — 'Qur’an and Cricket' signalled a clear departure from this reductive narrative. By pairing a sacred text with a colonial sport, Noor highlights a lived reality where religious devotion and love for the “gentleman’s game” coexist in a complex, post-colonial balance.