In English squash, the baton rarely changes hands quietly. Those who have carried it - Jonah Barrington, Peter Nicol, Nick Matthew - did so with a mixture of grit and something harder to define: a willingness to be the one everyone else looks toward when the room grows silent.
In recent years England’s talismanic figure has been Mohamed ElShorbagy, the adopted son of Egyptian brilliance and British steel. His presence, even now, still dominates the ecosystem of English squash.
And yet, as every dynasty quietly reminds us, there comes a point when a leader recognises that the weight of the jersey must be offered to another set of shoulders.
At the U.S. Open earlier this season, after Curtis Malik defeated his childhood idol, ElShorbagy told him softly, almost casually:
“It’s your turn to try and lead now.”
For Malik — the eldest of five squash-playing siblings from Sussex — those words did something profound. They gave form to something he had begun to feel but had not yet dared name.
A shift. A handing over. A future.
The win wasn’t lucky or chaotic or scrappy. It was deserved. And in defeat, ElShorbagy — gracious in a way that only the truly great can be — leaned in and gave him a line that would follow Curtis for the rest of the tournament:
“It’s your turn to try and lead now.”
"Obviously beating Mo was never something I thought would be possible a few years back as I grew up watching him and more recently being in the same team as him for England," said Malik.
"He was very gracious and respectful in defeat. He told me it's my turn to try and lead now, so with that coming from Mo it meant a lot to me as he's taught me a lot over the past few years, both at team events and when I've gone to Bristol to stay and train with him.
"He talks a lot about the mindset and what's needed to make it to the top, so i'm just trying to implement as much of that as I can."
Malik’s rise has not been spectacular. It has been incremental, patient and shaped by responsibility long before England ever looked in his direction.
He is 26 years old and ranked World No.22 — but perhaps more importantly, he has spent much of his adolescence and adulthood being the eldest in a household of squash players. Perry, Torrie, Bailey, Heston — all professionals; all relentless; all looking toward Curtis for the small, everyday signals that only siblings notice.
Leadership was not taught. It was absorbed.
In the Malik household, the day begins with bodies moving in different directions, rackets clattering, protein shakers clicking shut. They train together, push each other, challenge each other, irritate each other. They have the unspoken understanding of five people who have grown up breathing the same air and dreaming the same dream.
“It probably looks mad from outside,” Curtis admits. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
It is easy to imagine the chaos — five pros chasing the same fragile inches of improvement, sharing the same living room, the same fridge, the same ambition.
But it is equally easy to imagine how Curtis became the calm centre of that storm. A leader at home before he ever considered being one for England.
In Philadelphia, Malik’s run to the quarter-finals of the U.S. Open did more than nudge him up the rankings. It placed him in a space he had never fully occupied — a space where he was no longer the chaser but the threat.
Beating Youssef Soliman — World No.9 — recently hinted at a ceiling that may be no ceiling at all.
England has not had a clear male leader since the era of Nick Matthew — the last World No.1 to emerge from its own system — and in team events, the psychological presence of ElShorbagy has filled the vacuum.
But ElShorbagy is nearing the dusk of a glittering career. His body reminds him of its limits; the sport reminds him of its changing weather. He remains dangerous, but not inevitable.
England is ready for someone new. Someone younger. Someone who understands what being a leader requires when the lights are off.
Malik may not have the natural swagger of some. He is not loud, not theatrical, not a showman. But leadership can be carved in different ways.
Barrington led with ferocity.
Nicol with clarity.
Matthew with discipline.
Willstrop with elegance.
ElShorbagy with intensity.
Malik does not speak in absolutes or dramatic predictions. His ambition is clean, unforced, almost matter-of-fact.
“Top 20 has been a goal for a long time,” he says. “But from this point onward, it only gets harder.”
"I definitely thought top 10 wins were possible this season. I remember doing my training through the summer and feeling like I'd really improved on certain aspects of my game which I couldn't wait to put into use on the tour. So to actually go and do it was very satisfying.
"I haven't ticked off the top 20 goal yet and I don't want to place too much emphasis on a number as I know if I take care of my squash, the ranking can take care of itself."
There are glimpses — in the Soliman win, in the ElShorbagy upset, in the maturity of his shot selection — that suggest Malik is entering a new space. Not just believing he belongs, but playing like it.
Curtis Malik may not yet be the finished product. But England has never needed a finished product. It has needed someone who knows what the responsibility is worth.
And when Mohamed ElShorbagy — the man who once looked unbeatable — told him “It’s your turn to try and lead now,” the words didn’t just name a possibility.
They named a future.
A future where Curtis Malik, eldest son of a squash-built family, could become the next custodian of England’s most demanding shirt.
