Khawaja: I’m a proud Muslim colored boy from Pakistan who was told that he would never play for Australia. Look at me now.

PL: Usman Khawaja bows out

Khawaja hugs his daughters in front of the cameras

Usman Khawaja did not go quietly. He had a bit to say; a few people to thank, a few things he wanted to get off his chest, a few scores to settle with his critics, and a few home truths he wanted to underline.

This was never going to be like anybody else's farewell, for nobody has had a journey like his. Indeed, no one who has ever worn the baggy green cap for Australia has travelled from as far outside the inner circles cricket as this country knew it as Khawaja.

The misty-lensed fairytale narrative wasn’t lost, but it had to compete for space with things more difficult to swallow. The coloured migrant kid made good was there. The one who got to turn to his father in a packed media conference and ask with a satisfied smile: “88 Test matches, Dad, is that enough?”

We all, to some degree or other, feel the weight of parental expectation, but first-generation migrant children, like Usman, carry the burden of parents who gave up their lives to seek a better one for them.

There were many triumphs in the extraordinary career of Usman Khawaja, but the fact that he was there, in Sydney, a few blocks from the apartment where the family first lived, announcing his retirement ahead of the SCG Test, after Australia had won an Ashes, is a testament to his unique talent and contrarian tenacity.

His place at the head of the batting order had been challenged by critics for some time.

His fitness and age were questioned when he broke down in the first Test. His position as opener was taken by a more modern, shinier model for the second. He was dropped for the third, but Khawaja is, as he has proved so many times before, a hard man to deny. You might close a door in his face, but the next time it opens, he is there, pads on and bat in hand.

Nobody saw that 82 and 40 while substituting for Steve Smith in Adelaide coming, but he did it. Back in from the cold one last, brief time.

Cricket, however, isn’t the only field where Usman’s place has been questioned. A Muslim immigrant, it’s his community and the place of people like him in this country, that’s again being questioned.

Last summer, Khawaja’s mother, Fozia, who wears a veil, was racially abused by Islamophobes while her son was playing for his country at the MCG.

Usman Khawaja's 88th Test, the last of the 2025-26 Ashes, will be his last for the country that took his family in as a child. After 14 years and 6000 runs, he is packing it up and heading home to be with his family. His wife Rachel is expecting their third child.

It’s a conscious uncoupling. He’s had enough, but says there was still some thought he could play on until India next year. He still fancies himself on those turning decks.

Usman and his extended family filed into a press conference room at 8.15 am Friday, and before he took any questions, he had written something he wanted us all to hear, but I’ve trimmed it back a little:

Funnily enough, I lived just up the road from the SCG, on Cook Road, to be exact. And I’ll never forget when I was younger, I saw Michael Slater drive in his red Ferrari. I couldn’t believe my luck. I just saw a Test cricketer. And, as a boy whose parents were barely scraping through and trying to provide for their kids in a little two-bedroom apartment, I thought, ‘one day I’m going to be a Test cricketer, and one day I can drive whatever I want.

Never did I think that God would grant me such a wish. I’m here to announce today that I’ll be retiring from all international cricket after the SCG Test match. God, through cricket has given me far more than I ever imagined. He’s given me memories I’ll carry forever, friendships that go well beyond the game, and lessons that shap who I am off the field, but no career belongs to one person. Obviously had a lot of help to my parents, who are over there. Thank you for your sacrifices that never made the highlights reel. That’s you, Mom and Dad, Tariq and Fozia, the early mornings, the long drives, the beliefs and the when the results weren’t there, Mom, you knew plenty of those when I used to come home disappointed, sad. You always consoled me, and I’ll never forget that, Dad, you always said that I would play for Australia one day, even though sometimes I didn’t believe in myself. You taught me values before ambition. You taught me to be humble, always respectful and treat everyone as equals, no matter what. And that grounded me through everything that followed.

I hope I repaid your sacrifice in leaving everything behind in Pakistan to come to Australia to give us kids a better life, 88 Test matches, Dad, is that enough.