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A generous, affable cricketer lost to a terror attack

Nezam Hafiz was rising in the ranks of US cricket when he died in the 9/11 terrorist attacks. A decade later, he is fondly remembered by team-mates and family

Peter Della Penna

September 22, 2012

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 US and Guyana cricketer Nezam Hafiz
Nezam Hafiz: always happy to help younger cricketers ÂĐ Cecil Hafiz
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Liberty Avenue in the Richmond Hill neighbourhood of Queens is the heart of the Guyanese immigrant community in New York. Seemingly every 100 feet is another roti shop or restaurant serving goat curry and oxtail.

Just a few blocks away in South Ozone Park, in a residential area sandwiched between Aqueduct Racetrack and JFK International Airport, sits a white brick house with a salmon-coloured porch. Over the entrance hangs a sign in gold lettering: "Nezam Hafiz Villa".

Open the front door and to the right there's a photo of Hafiz, looking sharp, wearing a sport coat and slacks alongside his USA team-mates on the hallowed turf at Lord's in London. It was a long road to get there from Georgetown, Guyana, for a boy who started playing the bat and ball game two decades earlier.

"He loved cricket," says Cecil Hafiz, Nezam's father. "You would see him every day at the cricket ground."

Nezam worked his way through the ranks as a junior player, eventually becoming the Guyana Under-19 captain in 1988, at the Northern Telecom Youth Tournament, which included other teams from around the West Indies. In Guyana's first match, the captain for the opposition, Trinidad & Tobago, was Brian Lara.

Hafiz showed signs of promise at U-19, scoring 116 runs in a three-day match against a Leeward Islands side that included future West Indies Test batsman Stuart Williams. The following season he made his debut for Guyana's senior team and wound up making six first-class appearances over the next three years, struggling to secure a regular spot in a side team that was particularly strong through the late 1980s and early '90s. However, he did leave quite an impression on Carl Hooper, another former West Indies captain who played for Guyana - if not for the reasons one would typically expect.

"To me he always seemed like - we call them saga boys in the Caribbean," Hooper says. "He was my room-mate and we spent a week in Jamaica. He would get up really early in the morning. The first thing, the minute we got to the room, he had all these lotions and stuff in the bathroom. He used to take forever in there. He'd go into the bath and, man, he'd be there for half an hour. He'd come out and he had these black shorts, boxers, on, and he would stand in front of the mirror and there was this little curl he had at the front of his hair, just a little curl going, a little wave going, and he would spend minutes just trying to fix it right, and we've gotta get breakfast and gotta go down to the ground."

"If there was a West Indian GQ, his picture would be on the cover and it would never be taken off," says Irshad Adam, the oldest of Nezam's sister Sharon's three sons. "Cricket is a regular sport. You sweat, you get dirty, you run around the field, but his clothes would never get dirty." Cecil claims that when walking through the house, "the smell of his cologne could kill you". No one was allowed to touch Nezam's hair.

After being a fringe player in Guyana for a couple of years, Hafiz decided to go to New York in 1992 to join his parents and two older sisters. While he loved cricket tremendously, it was very difficult at that point for cricketers in Guyana to maintain a decent living unless they were established in the dominant West Indian sides of that era.

Before leaving, Hafiz left his mark with his generosity to some of the younger cricketers in the Georgetown area, particularly at the Malteenoes club. At 23, he was the vice-captain of the first division team but found time to encourage younger players, and when it was time to make his way to America, he donated some of his equipment to players at Malteenoes who needed it, something that would turn into a habit through the years.

"He was a national player," said Lennox Cush, six years younger than Hafiz, who went on to play for the Guyana and US national teams. "I wasn't representing Guyana as yet, but he saw the potential in me and also a few other youngsters around, and he would always reach out to us and try to give us cricket clothing, gear, etc."

After settling in Queens with his parents, Hafiz joined his sister Debbie in working on weekdays for AIG. On the weekends, though, cricket was still a major part of his life. He soon connected with the American Cricket Society club team, which played in the Commonwealth Cricket League, one of the largest cricket leagues in the US, with more than 60 clubs. The standard of amateur league cricket in New York was quite competitive, and Hafiz fit in immediately.

"As a cricketer, you could see the potential he had in him when he came out to play, and through the years when he represented the club, the league, the region and the USA," says Zamin Amin, a former US national team captain who played at ACS with Hafiz after migrating from Guyana. "He's a thinker when he's batting, and what really stands out is, he can work the ball around. When him and I were batting, we were very good running between the wickets. We would really break teams apart once we would get into that mode."

 Nezam Hafiz's name in the 9/11 memorial
Hafiz's name on the 9/11 memorial ÂĐ Peter Della Penna
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Hafiz experienced a particularly successful run at ACS, as the team won the Commonwealth league title seven times over the next nine seasons. Along the way he was named club captain, and beginning in 1997 he also captained the CCL squad in New York's inter-league tournament.

"He was a very talented cricketer, just the sort of a captain that any team would need, especially the captain of any league team," remembers CCL president Lesly Lowe. "We had a very, very strong league team comprised of excellent cricketers, and he did a great job managing these guys."

In the late '90s, things started to pick up for Hafiz, both at work and in cricket. After leaving AIG, he cycled through a few other jobs before settling into a position as a claims analyst for Marsh & McLennan in Lower Manhattan. In 1998, he broke into the US squad and made his first tour with the team - to Jamaica to take part in the Red Stripe Bowl. However, Hafiz was injured during the first match, needing five stitches in his left hand, and was out of the tournament before getting a chance to bat.

Another chance came in 2000, when a squad was formed to tour the UK for eight matches as part of preparation for the following year's ICC Trophy, a World Cup qualifying tournament. After a selection camp in Philadelphia, Hafiz was picked for the eight-match tour, which took the team around England and Wales in July, and he wound up rooming with his ACS team-mate Amin throughout the trip.

The first stop was a match at Windsor Castle, where the US played the Royal Household XI, a team made up of employees of the British royal family. Rain stopped play before Hafiz got a chance to bat, but during all but one of the final seven matches on tour, Hafiz opened the batting with Mark Johnson, and the pair made a formidable combination. A big opening partnership between the two set the platform for an impressive win over a Yorkshire 2nd XI, and in the next match, against MCC, Hafiz scored 33 as the US secured a memorable win by two runs.

"He had so much confidence. He was like, 'Come on, Mark! We gotta go get these boys!'" Johnson says about his experiences on tour batting alongside Hafiz. "It was a pleasure. First of all, he was stylish. He had immaculate timing of the ball. He was a real good batsman. He was capable of playing the pace bowlers well and he was there to guide you, support you and influence you as an opening partner."

Hafiz was the team's leading scorer in three of the eight matches on tour, with his best knock being 62 in a win over a Wales Minor Counties side. He finished with 267 runs and three half-centuries, at an average of 44.50, to be one of the top players on tour along with Johnson and then rising star and current US national team captain Steve Massiah. A month later, Hafiz was named vice-captain of the national team on a tour to Canada, a sign that he was rapidly gaining respect at the top level.

By the end of the summer, Hafiz was 31 and in peak form. As a captain of both his club and league teams, and the vice-captain for USA, it seemed Hafiz was destined to one day take the next step and captain the US national team.

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In 1995, Cush went to New York and reunited with Hafiz, and the two become good friends over the next six years. So it was no sweat for Cush to ask Hafiz to give him a ride to the airport. Cush split his time between New York, Guyana and England as a professional cricketer. After suffering a devastating knee injury in 1999, Cush was working his way back up through the ranks to the Guyana national squad. On the second Monday of September 2001, it was time to fly back to Georgetown for national team trials ahead of a tournament coming up in October.

"My flight was on the night of the 10th at 11.45pm or 12.15am, JFK to Trinidad to Timehri [near Georgetown]," Cush says. "My plane landed in Guyana, I went straight to Georgetown and I walk into my home. My sister is on the phone talking to my wife and she just tells me, 'Look! Look! Look! Another plane is going into the building.'"

Much of Hafiz's reputation was staked on looking sharp, nothing less than his best. Part of that extended to work, where if a person wanted to do well and succeed, being late was never an option.

"You should always be early. That's how we were brought up," says Debbie Khublall, Hafiz's sister. "I had to work at 9, I used to be at work for 7.30. He used to be at work at 8 o'clock when he had to be at

 

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September 22, 2012

Posted by Peter Della Penna 2 days, 7 hours ago in Miscellaneous

Meeting a 9/11 victim's parents

On a hot, sunny August day, I drove from my apartment in New Jersey into New York City to begin one of the more extraordinary days of my life. I had two interviews set up for that day. The first was with Sunil Gavaskar at a restaurant in midtown Manhattan. I couldn’t sleep the night before and my palms were a little sweaty that afternoon, but not because of Gavaskar. It was the interview I had scheduled after Gavaskar that made me more nervous than perhaps I’d ever been before for a face-to-face chat. I was going to meet the parents of a person who died on 9/11, a cricketer named Nezam Hafiz.

After leaving Manhattan late in the afternoon, I got stuck in traffic past the Midtown Tunnel on the Long Island Expressway and began to sweat even more. It was Ramadan and that evening the Hafiz family was going to break the fast at their local mosque in Queens. The longer I took to get to their house, the less time I’d have to speak with them.

I finally made it to the house just before 5 pm. Cecil, Nezam’s father, came to the door to greet me and let me in. “How long do you need? 10-15 minutes? We need to leave soon,” he said. After lunch with Gavaskar, I had walked a few blocks away to the current headquarters of Marsh & McLennan, the company Nezam worked for at the World Trade Center. I wanted to take pictures of their 9/11 Memorial and find Nezam’s name on the memorial wall. While there I met a woman whose niece had died on 9/11 and listened to her own story for a good 20 minutes. I didn’t want to be rude so I chose not to interrupt her, but now I was kicking myself for not leaving Manhattan earlier.

“I was hoping to talk with you for a little bit more than that,” I told Cecil in reply. “Let’s see how far we get.”

 

Two hours later I had learned about Nezam’s life, about his death, about what it’s like to force yourself out of bed every morning in spite of unfathomable grief, about the best and worst of humanity. Sometimes I wanted to laugh when they talked about happy things, sometimes I wanted to cry when they talked about sad things, other times I was just speechless.

That’s especially how I felt when Bebe, Nezam’s mother, was talking about the day, August 7, 2002, that she got a call telling her that some of Nezam’s remains were found, almost a year after he went missing. She said the officer then asked for Bebe and Cecil to re-submit a DNA sample to confirm a match. The cleanup crew at Ground Zero never found Nezam’s body, just a bracelet he wore with his name on it, some of his credit cards and his ID card to access the World Trade Center for work in addition to some of his remains. 

“It was terrible â€Ķ It was terrible. I hold it you know. I hold it... I hold it,” Cecil said as a grimace came across his face, cradling his arms to demonstrate how he held ‘it’. “It was in plastic but I can see it. I hold it. And when you’re holding your son there â€Ķ how would you feel? It was terrible.”

Did finding some of Nezam’s remains give them any closure? “You could never bring closure,” Cecil said. “We’re trying. It’s hard to bring closure to know that he’s still out there. If we have a body, it would have been good closure, but it neverâ€Ķ his part is still out there.”

When programs and documentaries about 9/11 get shown on television, do they ever watch? “I never sit to watch the World Trade Center when it’s on fire,” Bebe says. “Sometime accidentally I would sit there and if they flash it, you know they’re flashing it, and if they do it, it affect me. So all the people running and jumping, I don’t watch. I hide my face.”

“So many people don’t like it,” Cecil says. “They would air it. They’re gonna do it, but some of the families don’t like it. We try not to watch, just shut it off â€Ķ you just remember. They show you directly how the plane go in there. I don’t want to see it.”

Amid the tears shed at the dining table inside the Hafiz house, a few smiles were cracked as well, particularly when it came to talking about Nezam’s many girlfriends. Carl Hooper called him a “saga boy” and Lennox Cush says Nezam “was someone that would always attract the women” but his parents say he was stubborn when it came to finding a girl to marry, especially because it might interfere with his cricket schedule.

“He always say, ‘Mommy, you couldn’t stop me from cricket and no woman can stop me!’ He say when he’s 34, then he’s going to decide to settle down in life. But he died at 32,” Bebe said wistfully. “He loved that game so much, so much that I couldn’t get him from 12 years old, I couldn’t control Nezam from cricket.”

Eventually, Nezam’s sister Debbie arrived at the house. It was time for the family to go to the mosque and time for me to leave. Bebe kindly gave me a bottle of water to take for the drive back home to New Jersey on a warm summer night. An extraordinary day started with me talking to one of cricket’s living legends and ended with me listening to the legend of a cricketer whose life was taken too soon.

Nehru

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