Bangladesh Cricket’s Crossroads: Why the BCB Must prioritize experience over star power in its coaching search

The Bangladesh Cricket Board (BCB) is at a pivotal juncture as it searches for a new head coach to guide the national team through its next phase of development. With rumoured names like Sourav Ganguly, Waqar Younis, and Inzamam-ul-Haq being floated, the BCB’s intent to target high-profile individuals is evident. However, despite their reputations as cricketing legends, these potential candidates present significant risks, as their profiles may not align with Bangladesh’s specific needs at this stage. This article explores why prioritizing star power over relevant coaching experience could be detrimental and what lessons the BCB can draw from past appointments.  

Sourav Ganguly: A Misguided Experiment in Leadership?

Sourav Ganguly’s name carries immense weight in global cricket circles. As a former captain of India, he played a pivotal role in transforming his country’s cricketing landscape. However, coaching is fundamentally different from playing or even administrative leadership. Ganguly’s credentials as a cricket administrator are well-established, but he lacks hands-on coaching experience. Entrusting Bangladesh’s national team to an untested coach of this calibre is a high-stakes gamble that could backfire.  

The complexities of modern cricket coaching extend far beyond tactical know-how. A coach must understand the nuances of individual player development, navigate team dynamics, and implement data-driven strategies to foster sustained improvement. Appointing Ganguly would introduce uncertainties at a time when Bangladesh needs stability, structure, and professionalism—not experimentation.  

Waqar Younis: The Risks of Mismatched Philosophies 

Waqar Younis’s potential availability raises another set of concerns. His coaching style is deeply influenced by Pakistan’s fast-paced, high-pressure cricketing culture. While Waqar's background as a world-class fast bowler and coach may appear appealing, the coaching philosophy he brings may not align with Bangladesh’s requirements. Bangladesh’s cricketing ethos emphasizes nurturing talent patiently, in contrast to Pakistan’s often aggressive, emotionally charged system.  

Bangladesh’s past experiences with Pakistani coaches like Mohsin Kamal and Ali Zia suggest that cultural compatibility plays a crucial role in coaching effectiveness. These stints failed to yield the desired outcomes, highlighting the importance of hiring a coach who understands Bangladesh’s unique cricketing context and values.  

Inzamam-ul-Haq: A Controversial Choice with Potential Disruptions

The mention of Inzamam-ul-Haq as a coaching candidate introduces further complexities. Inzamam’s playing career was marked by brilliance, but his tenure as a leader brought controversy, particularly due to his incorporation of religious practices into the team environment. While personal faith is respected, allowing religious practices to dominate the professional realm risks creating divisions within the team and distracting from on-field objectives.  

Bangladesh’s cricket setup requires discipline, focus, and professionalism. Appointing a coach like Inzamam—whose post-playing career has been punctuated by controversies—could hinder team cohesion at a time when the Tigers need a clear sense of direction and unity.  

The Need for Proven Expertise over Celebrity Names

Bangladesh’s progress as a cricketing nation demands a coach with proven expertise in player development and the strategic nuances of the modern game. Coaches like Dav Whatmore and Jamie Siddons exemplified this approach, prioritizing development over short-term results. Their success stemmed not from personal fame but from their ability to understand the team’s needs, build infrastructure, and develop a culture of professionalism.  

The role of a cricket coach in today’s game extends beyond tactical decisions. A successful coach must balance technical training with psychological support, helping players adapt to the pressures of international competition. Coaches like Bob Woolmer and Ian Pont left lasting impacts by focusing on the mental and technical growth of their squads. Bangladesh’s cricket board must seek a similar profile—one that blends modern coaching methods with long-term vision.  

Learning from History: Avoiding the Trap of Star Power

Bangladesh’s history with high-profile yet inexperienced coaches offers important lessons. In 1994, Mohinder Amarnath’s appointment generated much excitement, but his tenure ended in disappointment after a humiliating ICC Trophy loss. Similarly, Ian Pont, though lesser known, demonstrated the value of expertise by improving Bangladesh’s bowling performance. These contrasting examples underline the importance of prioritizing professionalism and experience over star appeal.  

The success of coaches like Duncan Fletcher and Tom Moody with other cricketing nations further illustrates this point. Both possess the tactical acumen and experience working with developing teams, making them far more suitable candidates for Bangladesh than marquee names lacking coaching credentials.  

Strategic Recommendations for the BCB

At this critical juncture, the BCB must focus on hiring a coach who offers the right blend of experience, technical proficiency, and cultural fit. The new coach must:  

1. Prioritize Player Development: Establish a nurturing environment for young talent to thrive.  

2. Adopt Modern Coaching Methods: Utilize data analytics and sports science to enhance team performance.  

3. Foster Mental Resilience: Help players cope with the pressures of international cricket.  

4. Maintain Team Unity and Professionalism: Avoid off-field distractions and build a focused, cohesive unit.  

Selecting the right coach is a strategic decision that can make or break Bangladesh’s cricketing trajectory. The BCB must avoid the allure of big names and instead prioritize candidates with relevant coaching expertise and a deep understanding of the game’s evolving demands.  

A Crossroads for Bangladesh Cricket  

The appointment of the next head coach presents a decisive moment for Bangladesh cricket. The BCB must resist the temptation to chase high-profile names without coaching experience. Instead, the focus should be on identifying a seasoned professional capable of building on the foundations laid by past coaches like Whatmore and Siddons.  

Bangladesh cricket stands at a crossroads. With the right leadership, the team has the potential to progress to new heights. However, a misguided coaching appointment could lead to stagnation or regression. The BCB’s decision in the coming weeks will shape the future of Bangladesh cricket—either opening the door to a new era of success or leaving the team to grapple with missed opportunities.  

The BCB must take a measured, analytical approach to this decision. The right coach, armed with the necessary experience and insight, will be instrumental in unlocking the full potential of Bangladesh’s promising talent.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

The Saga of Once Titans: A Rivalry for the Ages is Waning

Cricket has witnessed rivalries steeped in drama, skill, and fierce competition, but few matches captured the imagination like the Pakistan-West Indies encounters. For over four decades, these two sides clashed with relentless intensity, their duels a thrilling spectacle for cricket lovers worldwide. The rise and fall of both nations on the cricketing stage is a tale of epic highs and heart-wrenching lows—a contest between flamboyance and grit, Caribbean flair and subcontinental resilience. Their matches, often balanced on the edge of unpredictability, were not just battles on the field but narratives of shifting empires in world cricket.

The Inaugural Dance: 1958 – A Duel Etched in Time

Pakistan’s introduction to Caribbean soil in 1958 was more than just a tour—it was a baptism of fire. West Indies, already a cricketing powerhouse, expected to dominate the visitors. The scoreline—3-1 in favour of the hosts—tells a story, but the heart of that series lies deeper. It was a confrontation between two legendary innings, shaped by contrasting genius.

In the opening Test at Kingston, Pakistan were humbled, dismissed for a mere 106 and following on 473 runs behind. Enter Hanif Mohammad, who delivered a batting performance for the ages. Over six gruelling days, he resisted the West Indian attack with monk-like patience, crafting a monumental 337. Batting for 16 hours and 10 minutes—the longest innings in the annals of first-class cricket—Hanif’s epic not only saved the Test but also immortalized his name in cricket’s folklore. In a poetic twist, a few weeks later, West Indian icon Gary Sobers responded with an unbeaten 365 at Sabina Park, a dazzling innings that epitomized Caribbean flamboyance.

Beyond these batting marvels, the duel between Pakistan’s master of seam, Fazal Mahmood, and Jamaica’s fearsome *Roy Gilchrist* electrified crowds. Fazal’s subtle cutters earned admiration, while Gilchrist’s fiery pace delivered spine-tingling moments. Though Pakistan returned home defeated, they had left a lasting impression.

The Seventies: A New Generation, A Renewed Rivalry

Despite the captivating start, it took 19 years for Pakistan to return to the Caribbean. The cricketing landscape had transformed by 1977—West Indies, led by the formidable Clive Lloyd, had emerged as an unstoppable juggernaut, boasting a galaxy of stars like Viv Richards, Andy Roberts, and Michael Holding. In Pakistan’s corner stood Mushtaq Mohammad, leading an exceptionally talented side that included luminaries like Zaheer Abbas, Imran Khan, and Majid Khan.

The series was a classic clash of styles: Pakistan’s finesse versus West Indies’ raw aggression. *Wasim Raja*—with his audacious stroke play—took the fight to the fearsome Caribbean bowlers, scoring 517 runs against a brutal pace attack. Yet, despite flashes of brilliance, Pakistan found themselves undone by moments of brilliance from the West Indies. Colin Croft’s devastating 8-for-29 at Queen’s Park Oval and Gordon Greenidge’s marauding innings clinched the series for the hosts, though Pakistan’s resilience was undeniable.

The 1980s: Near Glories and Bitter Heartbreaks

  

The 1980s heralded an era of fierce competition, where Pakistan constantly flirted with greatness but fell agonizingly short. Imran Khan’s Pakistan possessed the firepower to match the best in the world, and their contests with West Indies became gladiatorial. The 1988 tour to the Caribbean, in particular, stands as one of the most enthralling Test series in cricket history. Pakistan, bolstered by Imran’s masterful bowling and *Javed Miandad’s* batting, took a surprise 1-0 lead. However, the West Indies—buoyed by the return of *Viv Richards* and *Malcolm Marshall*—stormed back to level the series, setting up a showdown at Kensington Oval.

At the fortress in Bridgetown, where West Indies had remained unbeaten since 1935, Pakistan came tantalizingly close to a historic triumph. Defending 266, Pakistan had the hosts reeling at 207 for 8. But destiny intervened cruelly—*Jeff Dujon* and *Winston Benjamin* dug in to deny Pakistan. Imran, crestfallen and convinced that poor umpiring had robbed his team, later described the heartbreak in his autobiography, underscoring how fine margins defined their rivalry.

The Nineties: The Waning Glow of a Rivalry 

By the 1990s, both teams were struggling to maintain their dominance. Pakistan, though rich in talent, faced internal challenges, while West Indies’ empire began to crumble. In 1993, a Pakistan side led by *Wasim Akram* came to the Caribbean amidst controversy, marred by drug scandals. The series lost much of its allure before it began. West Indies’ bowlers—led by *Curtly Ambrose* and *Ian Bishop*—overwhelmed Pakistan, while *Brian Lara* and *Desmond Haynes* delivered with the bat. Pakistan salvaged pride with a draw in the final Test, courtesy of *Inzamam-ul-Haq’s* magnificent 125.

The two teams’ fortunes continued to wane. West Indies, long the kings of cricket, suffered a slow decline. Meanwhile, Pakistan struggled with inconsistency and controversies. Their 1997 series win at home—Pakistan’s first clean sweep of the West Indies—marked a symbolic changing of the guard. Yet, the unpredictability of both teams ensured that every encounter carried the promise of drama.

The Modern Era: Shadows of a Bygone Age

  

By the 2000s, the Pakistan-West Indies rivalry no longer commanded the same global attention. While they occasionally delivered thrilling moments—like Pakistan’s hard-fought draw at Antigua in 2000—their clashes lacked the aura of past battles. Pakistan’s inability to win a Test series in the Caribbean remains a nagging regret, with near-misses reinforcing their frustration.

In 2006, Mohammad Yousuf broke Viv Richards’ long-standing record for most Test runs in a calendar year, offering a rare moment of nostalgia. The West Indies, too, provided glimpses of brilliance, as *Brian Lara’s* elegant 216 charmed fans in Multan. But these moments were exceptions in a rivalry that had lost its grandeur.

A Rivalry in Twilight: The Road Ahead

As Pakistan and West Indies prepare for another series after a six-year hiatus, the context is vastly different. The mighty West Indies no longer inspire the fear they once did, and Pakistan arrives as the stronger team. Yet, cricket remains a game of glorious uncertainties—both teams, unpredictable to the core, are still capable of conjuring magic when least expected.  

The rivalry between Pakistan and the West Indies may not hold the same allure today, but its legacy endures. It is a story of breathtaking triumphs and devastating defeats, of players who defied the odds, and teams that embraced the chaos of cricket. For those who witnessed these epic battles, the memories remain vivid—a testament to a time when every contest between these two cricketing nations was an event to cherish. Perhaps, in the spirit of the game, Pakistan might finally break their Caribbean curse. And even if they do not, one can only hope that the next chapter in this storied rivalry will recapture some of the old magic—reminding the world that cricket, like history, always finds a way to surprise us.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

Jamie Siddons Bids Adieu to Bangladesh Cricket with Bitter and Sweet Memories

The curtain has finally fallen on Jamie Siddons' tenure as Bangladesh's head coach—a chapter marked by tumult and transformation. When Siddons inherited the reins from Dav Whatmore in 2007, the task was far from enviable. Whatmore had not only left a void but had raised expectations after Bangladesh’s memorable 2007 World Cup campaign. Siddons walked into a storm—a cricketing crisis that could have unravelled a lesser leader.  

The ICL Exodus: A Crippled Beginning

The first test Siddons encountered came swiftly. The Indian Cricket League (ICL), an unsanctioned league that lured players with hefty paychecks, snatched away many of Bangladesh's promising cricketers. The exodus in 2008 depleted the national squad, leaving Siddons with a skeleton crew. Players like Shahriar Nafees, Alok Kapali, Aftab Ahmed, and even the veteran Habibul Bashar chose the ICL’s allure, leaving the national side bereft of experience and spark.

Siddons was left with a nearly empty dressing room—an orphaned side that required rebuilding from scratch. Yet he did not flinch. He set about the painstaking task of nurturing young talents, crafting a new playing style, and instilling a culture of professionalism and discipline within the squad.

Ashraful’s Promise and Pitfall

Perhaps one of Siddons’ most frustrating challenges was the enigma of Mohammad Ashraful. In Ashraful, Bangladesh had a rare gem—one who could conjure brilliance with the bat. Yet, his inconsistency was the Achilles’ heel that crippled his rise to greatness. Siddons, ever the idealist, backed Ashraful unconditionally. But Ashraful, headstrong and distracted, chased dreams of becoming an all-rounder instead of sharpening his batting craft. His inconsistency bled into his captaincy, where his inexperience showed glaringly.

The Ashraful-Siddons partnership, once promising, fractured after the disastrous 2009 T20 World Cup. Ashraful, overwhelmed by captaincy’s burden, was a captain adrift, while Siddons’ advice seemed to fall on deaf ears. For Siddons, it was a bitter truth—talent without discipline is like a candle in the wind.

The Shakib Era: A New Dawn

The turning point of Siddons’ tenure came when Shakib Al Hasan took over the captaincy. Under Shakib’s dynamic leadership, the team began to gel, and Siddons' methods finally bore fruit. The high point was Bangladesh’s historic clean sweep over New Zealand—a triumph that reflected not just talent but the mental toughness that Siddons had painstakingly cultivated.

Siddons orchestrated that success with a meticulous plan. He ensured the players underwent a rigorous training camp, drilling into them the belief that they could compete with—and defeat—the best in the world. The whitewash against New Zealand wasn’t just a victory on the scoreboard; it was a validation of Siddons' faith in his young team.

A Divisive Mentor: Tough Love or Stubbornness?

  

Siddons was never one to sugarcoat his words or bend to sentimentality. His stern approach sparked accusations of favouritism and aloofness, especially towards players linked with the ICL. He famously kept Shahriar Nafees and Ashraful out of the regular squad's practice sessions ahead of the 2011 World Cup. Yet, while Nafees responded by working harder and reclaiming his spot, Ashraful seemed trapped in the same cycle of underachievement.  

Mashrafe Mortaza’s situation was another source of contention. Siddons desired a fully fit Mortaza, a leader on the field and a spearhead with the ball. But persistent injuries kept Mortaza from fulfilling his potential, and the selectors’ decision to drop him sparked rumours that Siddons lacked faith in the pacer. In truth, Siddons was pragmatic—he wanted results, and an injured Mortaza wasn’t part of that equation. Blaming the coach for Mortaza's exclusion was a misjudgment.

The 2011 World Cup: The Final Verdict

Siddons’ legacy was ultimately put to trial during the 2011 World Cup. Bangladesh’s performances oscillated wildly—from the ecstasy of a win over England to the ignominy of being bowled out for 58 against the West Indies and 78 against South Africa. Critics sharpened their knives, eager to pin the blame on Siddons. Yet the collapse wasn’t a failure of coaching but a symptom of Bangladesh’s fragile cricketing psyche. Siddons could guide, but in the heat of battle, the players had to hold their nerve. And too often, they didn’t.

A Farewell and a Reflection

Looking back, Siddons' journey in Bangladesh cricket was a tale of turbulence and hope. He wasn’t just a coach—he was a craftsman, mouding raw potential into something resembling resilience. Like a teacher whose methods are not immediately understood, Siddons was judged harshly at times. But his contribution is undeniable: he sowed seeds that could bloom into a brighter future. 

In one of his final interviews, Siddons offered a poignant reminder:  

"If these boys are allowed to grow together for another four years to the next World Cup, you’re going to have a lot of good fun and a lot of joy. We’ve had our share of joy—victories over New Zealand, wins against England and Ireland, and domination over Zimbabwe. These boys are the future. There’s no Ricky Ponting or Kumar Sangakkara to carry the burden; these players must grow into their own heroes."

Siddons' words resonate as both a plea and a prophecy. The future he envisioned wasn’t just about talent; it required patience—from the players, the board, and the fans. His tenure wasn’t a story of unblemished success, but it was one of progress—a journey through trials, disappointments, and triumphs that laid the foundation for Bangladesh cricket’s growth.

As Jamie Siddons departs, his final gift to Bangladesh cricket is not a trophy but a lesson: Greatness takes time. It requires belief, trust, and the courage to weather setbacks. His era may have ended, but the seeds he planted are still waiting to be harvested. The BCB’s task now is to nurture them with the care and patience they deserve.

Goodbye, Siddons. You were not just a coach—you were a cultivator of dreams, even when they seemed too fragile to survive.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

A Farewell to the Magician: Muttiah Muralitharan

 In one corner of Mumbai’s Wankhede Stadium, elation flowed like a river, while across the stands, sorrow loomed like a monsoon cloud. Among the many forlorn faces, one stood out: Muttiah Muralitharan’s, etched with quiet disappointment as he bid farewell to international cricket on a note that fate had not scripted for him. A career filled with triumph, controversy, and extraordinary resilience ended not with a World Cup in hand, but as a runner-up. For those of us who admired him — who marvelled at his mastery — it felt like a dream denied. We had hoped, perhaps too sentimentally, for Murali to raise the trophy and leave the stage crowned. But cricket, ever so unpredictable, had other plans, and India, on that night, was the better side.  

Murali's journey has always been a symphony of contradictions. For his admirers, he is a genius, one of the finest to ever spin a ball, redefining what off-spin could be. For his critics, he is an enigmatic figure, his legacy shadowed by doubts about his bowling action — an "illusionist" to some, whose magic crossed the line into deceit. No cricketer since Douglas Jardine has polarized opinions as Murali has, and perhaps none has borne the weight of scrutiny with as much grace.  

What cannot be denied is the marvel of his craft. With supple wrists and a shoulder that rotated with the velocity of a fast bowler’s, Murali could make the ball grip, turn, and dance on pitches that seemed lifeless to others. His uniqueness was not merely physical — the deformity in his elbow was only a fragment of the story. It was his skill in combining the orthodox with the unorthodox, mastering the elusive doosra, that transformed him from a spinner into a phenomenon. On any surface, in any country, Murali was his captain’s talisman, a spinner who could conjure wickets even when nothing seemed possible.  

But genius rarely walks alone, and controversy was Murali’s constant companion. From the Boxing Day Test of 1995, when umpire Darrell Hair called him for throwing, to the 2004 episode where he was asked to shelve his doosra for exceeding the 15-degree tolerance, his career was as much a fight for legitimacy as it was for wickets. Even as sceptics called him a "chucker," Murali responded with serenity, going so far as to bowl on live television with a cast to demonstrate his legality. His smile, wide-eyed and boyish, remained unbroken through it all, as did his ability to decimate batting line-ups.  

For Sri Lanka, Murali was more than just a cricketer. He was a symbol of unity in a nation fractured by ethnic conflict, often the only Tamil in a team dominated by Sinhalese players. On the field, he played for victory; off it, he became a quiet force for reconciliation. In the aftermath of the 2004 tsunami, he dedicated time, energy, and resources to rebuilding the devastated regions, his influence stretching far beyond cricket’s boundaries.  

Murali’s cricketing achievements remain staggering. Part of Sri Lanka’s World Cup-winning side in 1996, he was instrumental in their run to the final in 2007. In Tests, his records are untouchable — over 800 wickets, including more than 100 against the giants of the game: India, England, and South Africa. Murali was a constant on pitches in Sri Lanka, where his spin was a nightmare for any batsman, or abroad, where he adapted with uncanny precision. His opponents knew that in a three-Test series, they would have to budget for 20 wickets or more in his ledger.  

Yet, beyond the records and accolades, there was something innately human about Murali. As he aged, his shyness gave way to a quiet confidence and sly humour that charmed even his critics. The same man who terrorized batsmen with his spin also offered them friendship with a smile that could disarm the fiercest opponent. He handled his critics with poise, even as legends like Bishan Singh Bedi continued to deride him as a fraud. But history, backed by science, would vindicate him. Under modern scrutiny, his action stood the test of time, proving that Murali’s magic was real.  

In his final World Cup, though, the magic seemed to ebb. Bowling through pain in the 2011 final against India, he tried everything in his repertoire, but the venom was missing. Dhoni and his men were too good that day, and Murali’s dream of ending his career with a World Cup in hand slipped away. It was not the fairy-tale ending his fans had hoped for, but cricket, like life, seldom offers perfect closures.  

Murali’s story will inspire generations of spinners, not just for what he achieved but for how he achieved it — with humility, resilience, and an unwavering smile. He taught the world that greatness is not just about records but about character and how one handles triumph and tribulation. He showed us that a true champion plays for personal glory and something greater — for a team, a nation, and, in Murali’s case, for unity.  

The departure of Muttiah Muralitharan leaves a void not just in Sri Lankan cricket but in the global game. His records may stand the test of time, but it is his spirit, his smile, and his story that will endure in the hearts of cricket lovers everywhere. And as the curtains fall on one of cricket’s most remarkable careers, we are left with the bittersweet truth: that some goodbyes are not meant to be victories, but quiet acknowledgements of a legacy that will live on.  

Adieu, Murali. The game was richer with you in it.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

The Price of the Present: Has T20 Cricket Undermined the Spirit, Charm and Quality of the Game?

Cricket, in the era I grew up watching—the 80s and 90s—was a game of strategy, endurance, and elegance. It was where the slow grind of Test matches revealed the character of players, and the 50-over format served as a thrilling middle ground between patience and aggression. But today, the rise of T20 leagues has drastically reshaped the landscape of cricket. While these leagues may have enriched cricketers financially, they have eroded the essence of the sport. In this pursuit of entertainment, cricket has traded quality for quantity, and the art of the game seems to be losing its soul.

Many modern fans may dismiss this as nostalgia, arguing that T20 leagues are the future. But the essence of a cricketer can never be fully captured in a mere 20 overs. Cricket has always been a test of temperament, skill, and resilience—qualities that can only be nurtured in the longer formats. Test cricket remains the truest expression of a cricketer’s mettle, while One-Day Internationals (ODIs) offer a valuable balance between tradition and modernity. The brevity of T20 cricket, however, forces players to chase instant gratification, robbing them of the chance to evolve into complete athletes.

What is more troubling is the way the narrative around cricket has shifted. Modern commentators and journalists often lavish praise on players excelling in franchise leagues, turning them into overnight sensations. This media frenzy not only overlooks players with genuine quality but also reduces cricket to a spectacle where fame matters more than craft. The very voices once entrusted with safeguarding the sport’s sanctity seem to have sold themselves, promoting a brand of cricket that prioritizes revenue over reputation.

T20 leagues have also created a troubling hierarchy in players’ priorities. Many cricketers today appear more invested in representing a franchise than wearing their national colours. This shift has fractured the sense of national pride that once defined cricket and fostered a sense of community among fans. The consequence is that the younger generation of cricketers is growing up with skewed values, where loyalty to a paycheck often outweighs loyalty to one’s country.

The shadow of match-fixing and betting syndicates further darkens this picture. Nowhere is this more evident than in the subcontinent, where the intersection of cricket, corruption, and gambling syndicates poses a grave threat. Young players, often lured by the glamour and money of T20 leagues, are easy prey for unscrupulous agents. The moral compass that cricket once championed is at risk of being irreparably damaged.

The think tanks of cricket may have set out to innovate, but in doing so, they have unleashed a demon. The commercialization of the game has come at a cost—one that cricket may not be able to afford in the long run. If the essence of the sport is to survive, there must be a recalibration of priorities. We need to recognize that cricket is not just about entertainment but about history, character, and the values that have inspired generations.

As a fan who cherishes the game in its purest form, I feel compelled to raise my voice. Cricket, after all, belongs to everyone. The custodians of the sport must be reminded that progress should not come at the expense of heritage. It is time to reclaim the spirit of cricket, so that future generations may witness the same elegance, grit, and beauty that captivated us decades ago.

The call is simple: let’s return to quality. The game deserves no less.

Thank You 

Faisal Caesar