Nothing could be further from the truth.

But the main title of Rod Gilmour and Alan Thatcher’s tome - Jahangir Khan 555 - is a curious one given that the neat and oft-quoted number of consecutive victories achieved by the great man between 1981 and 1986 is something the authors have called into question.

As the book observes, Khan’s "triple five", as he himself refers to it, has taken its place amid sport's sacred numbers, "alongside Michael Jordan's number 23 vest at the Chicago Bulls, the number ten Brazilian soccer shirt worn by Pelé and the number seven shirt sported by a succession of top Manchester United players such as George Best, Bryan Robson, Eric Cantona and David Beckham".

To challenge such a badge of honour 23 years after Jahangir signed off his stellar career - and shortly before the 30th anniversary of the November 11 defeat by Ross Norman in the 1986 World Open final - takes some nerve.

"There were no squash statisticians at that time documenting his every move," the book avers. "Not that anything should be detracted from this incredible feat, but the triple five is a false figure. One that, after extensive research, we are unable to locate an original source from.

"The figure has been set in stone ever since, we believe, the late eighties. There are rumours that it was started at various speeches on the after-dinner circuit. This is the most likely case, given that there is not one mention of Jahangir’s final haul before November 1986 and no previous mentions anywhere that he was, say, 358 matches unbeaten in 1984."

Jahangir’s friend Adrian Davies, a former Welsh player who collected statistics throughout the eighties, is quoted saying the Pakistani legend had gone "well over 500 matches unbeaten, but not World Tour events".

But then the authors maintain: "In our research at the British Library and traipsing through magazines and annuals of the time, there are no records or stats to back this up. Journalists in the eighties were only writing of the length in time of his unbeaten record, rather than matches won."

They cite varying estimates of Jahangir’s win total. The Sydney Morning Herald, in June 1986, goes for 442 matches "give or take one or two".

The New York Times referred in 1987 to Jahangir’s 50-tournament unbeaten run - "this suggests a figure between 250 and 300 matches without defeat". But two years later the same paper refers to the 555 figure...

"His five-and-a-half year unbeaten run is certainly not disputed and that will surely never be conquered," said Thatcher.

"It’s the final tally which we wanted to solve for accuracy’s sake.

"The real figure? It’s hard to say.

"But it could be lower than 500, which would mean that Dutch wheelchair tennis great Esther Vergeer could lay claim to the record."

Vergeer retired after victory in the London 2012 Paralympic final took her winning run to 470 matches.

The problem in all this is that, frankly, the book calls into question the 555 figure without being able to supply a more reliable one.

This is the reason, one suspects, for the predominant tone of comments on Dawn.com. One reader writes: "A deliberate campaign to malign or create doubt in the minds against the icon legendary hero of squash world."

Another adds: "So they wrote a book. And still cannot say what the actual number was. All they achieved was doubt aspersion. Great. Well done!"

The point is repeated eloquently by another voice: "It makes one wonder that even after 23 years of his retirement from the game, the world is still looking for the means to beat him in any manner what so ever. Perhaps that’s how one should define a true legend of any professional sport…"

Khan himself believes his winning run may have been underestimated - as quoted in the selfsame book.

"If you calculate it, it could be more," he said. "I played invitational, exhibition and challenge matches. The 555 figure should only be my tournament matches. But it could be between six to seven hundred matches if you include the others.

"Because I wasn’t losing those either!

"I used to play a lot of matches in those days. I took two months off per year. I remember during those years that to take one single day off was lucky for me. Either I was playing a tournament or I was playing exhibition matches and travelling as well.

"In one month, I played 29 exhibition matches in Germany. I was travelling by night train. Eating in the venue in the morning.

"After dinner, I took the night sleeper train. It was my hotel from city to city."

The irony of all this is that the book in question is in essence an honest, painstaking and heartfelt homage to the brilliance of a sportsman whose achievements in his chosen field rivalled those of any other.

He only really knew failure within squash in later years when, as President of the World Squash Federation, he was unable, despite his best efforts, to guide his sport into either the London 2012 or Rio 2016 Olympics.

The story of Jahangir’s emergence is respectfully told - the story of a weak child warned off physical activity by the doctors after undergoing two hernia operations, the story of a 15-year-old devastated by the sudden death of his 27-year-old brother Torsam following a collapse on court.

"It made me stronger and more dedicated to the mission of doing this all for someone," Jahangir later recalled. "It wasn’t purely for myself. I was doing it for someone who I loved."

Set on his course, the young Jahangir stayed with his uncle, Rahmat, at an address in Wembley High Street, just 500 yards away from the now demolished Wembley Squash Centre where he amplified his talent. It was alongside a school playing field in which he would run for 10 miles each day before breakfast as part of a daunting and unrelenting fitness regime. Nobody, not even Jonah Barrington or Geoff Hunt, was fitter than Jahangir...

At the beginning of the eighties, up-and-coming British professional Gawain Briars earned his sole victory against the even more swiftly up-and-coming Pakistani phenomenon, beating him in the Stockton Open at a recreational complex in Durham and Cleveland.

Moments after engineering his win through a variation of tactics against the super-fit but still relatively naïve Jahangir, Briars recalled glancing through the window of the gym where Rahmat was already with his young charge.

The narrative continues: "For Rahmat made him simulate a fifth game, entailing squat thrusts, star jumps and skipping for the next 30 minutes non-stop. It was hard and fast and it was clearly a sign of intent."

Briars added: "As if we didn't need to know, for clearly he was to become the most amazing squash machine with flair we had ever seen."

At the other end of an extraordinary career which saw Jahangir amass six World Open and ten British Open titles, Time Magazine named him in 2005 as one of 60 Asian Heroes of the previous 60 years.

The magazine asked: "How should we measure success in sport - by the number of commercial endorsements an athlete has signed?

"By the size of fees earned or TV audiences generated? How about the longest sequence of unbroken victories? If we take the latter as our prime criterion, then Jahangir Khan might just be the most successful sporting figure in history. If winning is everything, then Khan is the greatest. Period."

You won't get many disagreeing with that on the Dawn site. You won’t get Messrs Gilmour and Thatcher disagreeing with it either.