Afghan batsmen are forthright, and artless when they should be manoeuvring fielders around, but they hacked out a par 146 then bowled with the zest that has become their trademark.
Yet only four years ago Afghanistan were in Division Five of a ladder which the ICC have constructed – to their great credit – and which enables any country good enough to reach the world stage quickly.
Yes, in 2008 Afghanistan, coached by Malik, set out on their journey by competing with Japan and Jersey.
But after winning Division Five – Afghanistan’s first title in any team sport – Malik was replaced as national coach.
In the film he despondently tunes to the BBC Pushto service to follow the unprecedented rise of his former team.
It seemed like another drop in the ocean of sadness that is Afghanistan, but it had to be done. This was the house that Malik had built, but someone who had taught himself the rudiments could only fashion the first storey.
A coach who had played first-class cricket was essential to take the team higher.
The former Pakistan Test player Kabir Khan was brought in, and under him the team has kept on rising, to the World T20 finals and one-day international status.
In Sharjah last month, when they played Pakistan, and Saeed Ajmal – who had just been tormenting England – came on for his first over, the Afghan keeper/batsman Mohammed Shahzad reverse-swept him for six more powerfully than Kevin Pietersen.
Malik, meanwhile, has given up cricket and found another religion. He has become a mullah, according to Nasimullah Danish, chief executive of the Afghanistan Cricket Board, and disappeared.
The story of Gulbardin Naib, one of the players, has a happier ending. Gulbardin was shown weight-training in Kabul and proudly showing off his pectorals – he is still only 20 – while a Pashtun admirer stands behind him and says he likes his body ‘very much.’
Like Malik, Gulbardin was dropped after winning the ICC Division Five title – and Gulbardin’s father had no job, his mother had hepatitis, and his sister is disabled.
You can see why Afghanistan have won all eight of their matches in Dubai: their players are so hungry for success.
Gulbardin is now back in the national team, as an all-rounder (if especially artless when facing spin), and has a full-time central contract, thanks to the ICC’s funding of £443,000 a year.
Instead of a few scruffy nets in Kabul, they can play in a purpose-built 15,000-capacity stadium once the snows have melted, and another in Jalalabad.
The eagle, though no longer Malik’s, keeps on soaring. Afghanistan could become a Test nation, given their trajectory, attitude and Pashtun toughness.
Every youngster wants to bowl flat-out and hit the ball hard; and the West Indian narrative tells us that standards can rise high this way, before any coaching kicks in.
Iqbal Sikander, a former Pakistan player who coached in Kabul in 2003, recalls that Afghan players then were ‘uncut diamonds.’
Last week Geraint Jones, England’s 2005 Ashes wicketkeeper, played against Afghanistan for his native Papua New Guinea.
"They bat very similarly to Pakistan," Jones said, naturally enough, as the leading Afghans play in league cricket in Peshawar or Pakistan’s domestic competitions.
"They attack the new ball, play spin well and hit powerfully at the end, but aren’t very good at running between wickets."
"Their bowling is disciplined with good plans," Jones added. "Their spinners are tough to get away with good variations."
"I would say they wouldn’t look out of place on the main international limited-overs stage but would struggle at Test level."
But then Hamid Hassan is still injured, the fastest bowler outside the Test nations, who reverse-swings at more than 140kph.
On Saturday Afghanistan will contest the qualifiers’ final: if they win they will join Australia and West Indies in the same group in September, or England and India if they lose.
Even the Taliban approve of cricket so long as the players wear beards and pray.
One day Afghanistan might host a tour by England’s cricketers, after the tours by the soldiers have ended.