The Revival of Fast Bowling: Mitchell Johnson’s Fierce Resurgence in a Batsman’s Era

 

In an age when cricket is dominated by colossal sixes and blistering boundaries, where T20 culture fuels a thirst for quick thrills and towering scores, fast bowling has often seemed like a relic of a bygone era. Batsmen today are celebrated like conquerors, the pitch favours their power, and the rules lean heavily in their favour, skewing the game towards an epic spectacle of bat against bat rather than the classic clash of bat and ball. 

But for those of us who grew up in the late ‘80s and ‘90s, cricket was defined by an exhilarating balance. It was a stage for the most compelling of duels—one where speed and power could meet finesse and technique. Back then, the game felt electric, with formidable fast bowlers like Wasim Akram, Waqar Younis, Curtly Ambrose, Courtney Walsh, and Allan Donald charging in with raw ferocity, giving cricket a dangerous allure. They carried on the legacy of titans before them—Imran Khan, Dennis Lillee, Malcolm Marshall, and Michael Holding—fearsome bowlers who ruled with brutal elegance. 

But the last decade brought with it an uncomfortable reality: the fiery pace of true fast bowlers was disappearing, seemingly tamed by commercial pressures. Sponsors preferred seeing the ball sent soaring into the stands rather than whizzing past a ducking batsman. In this paradigm shift, young fast bowlers were increasingly urged to trade raw pace for precision, to deliver in the safe corridor of line and length, sacrificing the reckless thrill that once defined their craft.

Enter Dale Steyn in the late 2000s—a lone wolf who kept the fire alive, a symbol of speed and intimidation. He held on to the fast-bowling flame, but for true fans, it wasn’t enough. We yearned for more wild, untamed forces who could bring back that primal energy, who could make our hearts race. The spirit of fast bowling needed a catalyst, a force of nature.

The Rejuvenation of a Speedstar 

And then, in the 2013-14 Ashes series, that force arrived, reincarnated in Mitchell Johnson. In the first Test at Brisbane, Johnson’s thunderous pace unleashed a storm beyond anything the English batsmen had prepared for. He didn’t just bowl fast; he bowled with a ferocity and control that sent shivers down their spines. Bouncers screamed past helmets, struck arms, and shattered wickets with a relentless intensity that transformed the Australian summer into a nightmare for England. The crowd electrified, chanted his name, their roars echoing the enthusiasm once reserved for legends like Dennis Lillee and Jeff Thomson. Johnson tore through the English lineup, ending the Ashes with an astonishing 37 wickets.

But he wasn’t finished. Next, he flew to South Africa, cricket’s top-ranked Test team at the time. And here, at Centurion, Johnson only grew more fierce, more devastating. Each delivery was a bolt of lightning, leaving South African batsmen stunned, bewildered, and shell-shocked. His twelve-wicket haul in the match dented the South African psyche, reminding them—and the cricketing world—that the terrible beauty of true fast bowling was not dead.

Mitchell Johnson is a throwback to an era when fast bowlers were fearsome hunters. With his fierce moustache and menacing demeanour, he looked every bit the wild beast on the prowl, savouring the thrill of the hunt. For him, pace bowling isn’t a matter of robotic precision; it’s a visceral, thrilling experience, a high-wire act of speed, aggression, and unpredictability. He doesn’t cater to a formulaic line-and-length; he embodies raw energy, delivering every ball with unbridled intensity. Johnson isn’t about elegance or restraint; he’s about primal excitement and the kind of raw power that commands the crowd’s attention.

The New Hope in Fast Bowling

Mitchell Johnson has become cricket’s modern-day tornado, a force that can decimate a batting lineup in a session, transforming the stadium into a cauldron of excitement. When he runs in, the crowd holds its breath, sensing that something extraordinary—whether triumphant or calamitous—is about to happen. Johnson has reignited the crowd’s passion for fast bowling, giving them a taste of what it means to live on the edge.

In Johnson, cricket has found its much-needed Renaissance. He’s the revolution the game desperately needed, a beacon of hope for young bowlers who aspire to more than just precision and restraint. By blazing a trail of sheer pace and unadulterated aggression, Johnson offers a glimpse of a brave new world of fast bowling—one that might inspire broadcasters and fans alike to celebrate not just the spectacle of the bat, but the thrill of the ball hurtling toward 90 miles per hour. Mitchell Johnson is indeed a terrible beauty, and through him, cricket’s glorious legacy of fast bowling lives on.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

The Shining Yet Shadowed Legacy of Kevin Pietersen: England’s Maverick Lost

The Australian summer had scorched the English cricket team, leaving it battered and demoralized. But the true heat came not from the relentless sun, but from Mitchell Johnson’s blistering pace that tore through English defenses. It was a devastating series, one that saw Jonathan Trott step back, citing a debilitating mental struggle after the humiliation in Brisbane, while Graeme Swann quit all forms of cricket midway through. England melted, an ice sculpture in the inferno, ultimately succumbing to a historic 5-0 Ashes loss. 

As England’s cricket board braced for a revamp in the aftermath, a new shock surfaced: Kevin Pietersen, England’s most prolific and flamboyant batsman, would not be part of this rebuilding. Rumours flew: KP, it seemed, had been unmanageable during the Australian tour. This wasn’t the first time his brash personality and uncontainable flair had ruffled feathers within England's cricket hierarchy. But this time, the decision seemed final. England would move forward without their dazzling talisman.

Pietersen’s exclusion felt like an act of self-sabotage. Here was a batsman who brought rare mastery to the crease, who had not only stamped his authority but brought a kind of elegance mixed with audacity to England’s batting order. Since his debut in 2005, KP, with his fearsome pulls, audacious slog sweeps, and thrilling switch-hits, had thrilled crowds and struck fear into opposing teams. He was the centrepiece of England’s ascent in world cricket—a player who could turn games and raise England’s profile on the global stage.

Yet Pietersen’s off-field controversies followed him like shadows. His rebellious personality, sponsorship deals, striking blond highlights, and unabashed prioritization of the IPL drew criticism and raised eyebrows. His public rift with then-coach Peter Moores cost him the captaincy; his infamous text-message saga led to a temporary exile from the team. But time and again, his reintegration into the squad underscored his cricketing genius. He was, simply put, too talented to ignore.

Kevin Pietersen was England’s quintessential maverick. Mavericks are often misunderstood, their brilliance laced with complexity. Driven by a restless spirit, they operate by their own rules, challenging authority and embracing risks with fearless conviction. Pietersen embodied that archetype: a player who thrived on challenging convention, bending the rules, and daring to be different. Mavericks are valuable because they add depth, unpredictability, and excitement—a team’s golden goose. Cricketing history has witnessed captains like Mike Brearley and Imran Khan managing these “crazy diamonds” with skill and patience. Brearley’s guidance helped Ian Botham channel his raw talent, and Imran Khan’s command held together Pakistan’s mercurial squad in the 1980s. With the right leadership, such players can shine brighter and contribute immensely to a team’s success.

Yet, it appears that England was unwilling, or perhaps unable, to harness Pietersen’s unique spirit. Paul Downton, England’s new managing director, attempted to justify the decision, acknowledging Pietersen’s outstanding contributions but emphasizing a need to “rebuild not only the team but also team ethic and philosophy.” His words were measured, but for cricket fans, they rang hollow. How could a team’s ethos improve by sidelining its most passionate player, the one who, through sheer talent, had lifted England from the ordinary to the extraordinary?

At 33, Pietersen was still far from finished. His physical prowess and insatiable hunger for competition hinted that he could have served England’s cause for several more years. With a player of such calibre, a wise administration would have found a way to manage his mercurial temperament. If handled skillfully, Pietersen could have remained a linchpin in England’s batting lineup, anchoring the team through its rebuilding phase. 

What stings most is that Pietersen’s exclusion seems to be about everything but his cricketing abilities. The whispers and rumours of discord are a familiar refrain, a toxic undercurrent that has trailed his career. Yet one is left wondering: was the issue truly with KP, or did his unconventional brilliance simply fail to fit the mould of England’s restrained cricketing ethos? With Pietersen gone, international cricket loses one of its rare “crazy diamonds,” a player who refused to bow to convention and whose flair and individuality redefined English cricket.

Kevin Pietersen’s career, marked by defiant brilliance, seems to have ended not on his terms, nor through a decline in his skill, but due to the inability of English cricket to accommodate a genius who coloured outside the lines. The cricketing world is poorer for his absence. For those who love the game’s unpredictability and spirit, one can only ask: what would cricket be without Kevin Pietersen, the shining yet shadowed legacy of a maverick who truly changed the game?

 
Thank You
Faisal Caesar

Bangladesh’s Crossroads: The Cost of Siding with Cricket’s Big Three

 

The state of global cricket stands on a precipice, torn by a clash of power and principle. Cricket’s three wealthiest boards—the BCCI (India), Cricket Australia, and the ECB (England)—have tabled proposals that, while advantageous to their own interests, pose serious threats to the broader cricketing world. These proposals were met with immediate opposition from several cricketing nations, notably Pakistan, South Africa, Sri Lanka, and Bangladesh, all of whom voiced their concerns at the recent International Cricket Council (ICC) meeting in Dubai on January 28 and 29.

Initially, the Bangladesh Cricket Board (BCB), led by Nazmul Hassan Papon, seemed inclined to support the so-called "Big Three" proposal. However, public outcry back home in Bangladesh swiftly shifted Papon’s stance. Die-hard fans took to the streets, expressing deep-rooted fears about the future of their beloved sport, while cricket analysts in Bangladesh vehemently criticized the board’s initial support. This groundswell of resistance urged Papon to oppose the ICC's proposed revamp.

Central to Bangladesh’s concerns was the introduction of a two-tier Test cricket system, which would threaten the country’s hard-won Test status. Under such a system, Bangladesh and Zimbabwe would be relegated to playing the Intercontinental Cup against associate nations, with limited chances to challenge the top-tier Test teams. The BCB's advocacy against this system bore fruit when the ICC added a clause affirming that all member nations could play in all formats of cricket, with participation based on “meritocracy.” On this assurance, Papon quieted his opposition and, ultimately, lent his support to the revised proposal.

Papon’s decision appeared, at face value, a triumph for Bangladesh. His priority was safeguarding Bangladesh’s Test status, and he achieved that. However, this stance raised questions about his broader responsibilities to the global cricket community. Bangladesh, though not yet a top-tier power, is nevertheless an integral part of the world cricket structure. Shouldn’t the board have considered the wider impact of the proposal, beyond immediate security for their own Test status?

With Papon’s endorsement, the Big Three were left with only one vote short of passing their constitutional amendments. Bangladesh's backing seemed to tip the scales in their favour. At Dhaka’s Shahjalal International Airport, Papon painted his acceptance as a victory, stating: “We will be in a better position than others. We haven’t been to India in 14 years. We will go there to play Tests, and they will come here too. We will go to England; Australia will come here.” His remarks, however, seemed strangely uncritical, as though the mere prospect of a high-profile series justified the decision.

Yet, were these promises made by the Big Three concrete? Was there a binding, written assurance? Given the BCCI’s long-standing issues with fulfilling its bilateral commitments to Pakistan, it’s entirely possible that Bangladesh, too, could face an empty promise. Without a written contract, Bangladesh could find itself sidelined by wealthier, busier cricket boards whose schedules are increasingly full with domestic leagues and high-value bilateral series.

Furthermore, did Papon fully comprehend the implications of the “meritocracy” clause? Al-Amin, a sports journalist with Bangladesh’s Daily Star, dissected this term and suggested that it might be a veiled pretext for relegating less financially lucrative teams to the sidelines in the longer formats. He pointed out that the ICC has already implemented “merit-based” selections in limited-overs formats, resulting in Bangladesh and Zimbabwe playing qualifying phases for major tournaments. Thus, the “meritocracy” language may be less about fair play and more about sidelining smaller teams from regular competition with elite sides.

The phrase “no immunity to any country” also raises a red flag. If immunity doesn’t apply, then relegation remains a real possibility, placing Bangladesh’s Test future back on shaky ground. A superficial look at the proposal could create a sense of security, but a deeper analysis reveals vulnerabilities that threaten to erode Bangladesh's stability in world cricket.

Rather than aligning with the Big Three, Papon should have remained with Pakistan, South Africa, and Sri Lanka, who continued to voice their concerns. Together, they might have leveraged a collective stance to challenge the legality of the Big Three's plan, even taking their case to the Court of Arbitration for Sport (CAS). However, if Papon signs the Member Participation Agreement (MPA) on February 8, he may lose the chance to stand with these cricket boards or seek legal recourse.

Indeed, should the promises made by the Big Three materialize, Bangladesh could benefit financially from more high-profile games with cricket’s wealthiest boards. Yet these benefits may prove fleeting, a temporary inflow of funds masking the longer-term challenges that could arise from conceding so much influence to three powerful boards. Verbal assurances from “cunning minds,” as critics have called the Big Three, hold little weight against the unpredictable currents of global cricket politics.

While Bangladeshi fans may initially rejoice at Papon’s promises of prosperity, looking beyond the short-term gains is essential. Bangladesh’s loyalty to world cricket’s traditional values is part of its identity, a badge of honour hard-won and not easily sacrificed. In this turbulent landscape, one can only hope that Papon’s decisions do not ultimately compromise the broader integrity of the sport. For cricket fans who cherish the unpredictable beauty of this game, preserving the spirit and equality of world cricket should remain the top priority, above fleeting financial gain.

 

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

Bangladesh Cricket at Crossroads: Lessons from a Misstep Against Sri Lanka

Before the opening Test against Sri Lanka at Mirpur, Bangladesh cricket stood at a crossroads, shadowed by uncertainty. In a tense and politically charged atmosphere, only a display of character on the field could have lifted spirits. Expectations were high; after years of learning the nuances of Test cricket, Bangladesh had shown incremental improvement. But hopes were dashed, as Bangladesh’s performance fell short, revealing both tactical missteps and missed opportunities.

The root of the problem lay in an ill-prepared team and management strategy that ignored Bangladesh’s historical strengths. Spin has long been the weapon of choice for Bangladesh, especially on home soil. Yet, the team opted for three pace bowlers, an unusual move considering Bangladesh’s limited options in quality seam bowling outside of the experienced Mashrafe Mortaza. This decision seemed less tactical and more aspirational as if hoping for a quick solution to years of pace-bowling limitations.

Bangladesh’s approach was complicated by a widespread call among players and management for “sporting” tracks—bouncier, livelier surfaces that could offer an equal contest between bat and ball. While this ambition mirrors Bangladesh’s desire to grow as a cricketing nation, it raises an important question: are the players ready for such tracks? Bangladesh’s domestic circuit has traditionally featured flat pitches, ideal for batting but ineffective for preparing players for the conditions of a sporting wicket. Developing skill on these surfaces requires a gradual, systemic shift starting at the domestic level, where batsmen can learn to handle movement, bounce, and carry. Without this foundation, the call for sporting tracks risks backfiring.

The decision to trust in an untested pace attack quickly unravelled. While the Mirpur pitch showed early promise, the surface soon revealed itself as typically subcontinental—flat and slowing as the game progressed. Sri Lankan bowler Shaminda Eranga was able to generate bounce later on, but this success owed more to his own abilities than to any inherent quality in the pitch. Rather than attempting to counter these conditions with spin, captain Mushfiqur Rahim stuck to a pace-spin combination that often neutralized the momentum generated by Shakib Al Hasan. His handling of Sohag Gazi, a reliable wicket-taker, was particularly puzzling; used sparingly on the second day, Gazi was brought on too late to make a difference, despite proving his effectiveness whenever he was introduced.

Mushfiqur Rahim’s captaincy displayed a blend of skill and inconsistency. While undoubtedly talented and capable of inspiring his team, his choices sometimes seemed emotionally driven rather than grounded in tactical insight. The sporadic use of Gazi, combined with a reliance on outmatched pacers, allowed Sri Lanka to settle into comfortable partnerships. A more strategic use of Bangladesh’s spinners in tandem could have kept the Sri Lankan batsmen under greater pressure, creating opportunities to gain control of the game.

Adding to these tactical missteps was Bangladesh’s erratic batting approach, which appeared more suited to the rhythm of limited-overs cricket. At a moment when patience and resilience were crucial, key players like Tamim Iqbal, Mominul Haque, and Shakib Al Hasan adopted a casual, almost reckless approach, throwing away wickets with poorly judged shots. This lack of Test match temperament was evident as players abandoned the methods they had previously used to anchor the innings and resist opposition pressure.

Bangladesh’s task ahead of the second Test is to revisit and strengthen its basics. The challenge is not simply to avoid defeat but to develop a mindset focused on long-form cricket—a mindset that values patience, strategic shot selection, and judicious use of resources. Playing for a draw should not be the goal of a team with over a decade of Test experience; rather, the objective should be to craft performances that demonstrate skill, adaptability, and resilience to contend with the demands of Test cricket.

Bangladesh cricket has made remarkable strides over the years, and the fans’ expectations are a testament to this progress. However, to truly honour the promise of this growth, the team must recalibrate its approach and embrace its unique strengths. Spin, methodical batting, and disciplined captaincy have been the hallmarks of Bangladesh’s best performances. By grounding its strategy in these qualities, Bangladesh can hope to not only improve but to compete in the highest tiers of world cricket. As they approach the second Test, Bangladesh must remember that while learning to save matches is essential, learning to win them defines a team’s future.

Thank You
Faisal Caesar

A Nation’s Pride at Stake: Bangladesh Cricket Faces an Uncertain Test Future Amid ICC Reforms

Cricket in Bangladesh is more than a game; it is a national unifier, a point of pride, and a sanctuary for a people often left disheartened by the volatility of politics. In times of upheaval, cricket offers Bangladeshis a rare chance for jubilation, a momentary escape from the frustrations of daily life. But troubling clouds are gathering over the future of Bangladesh cricket—a future that now seems vulnerable to decisions being shaped beyond its borders.

The International Cricket Council (ICC) has proposed a sweeping structural overhaul that could relegate Bangladesh from the core of international Test cricket. At the heart of this restructuring plan, led by cricket’s financial giants India, England, and Australia, are provisions that could potentially exile Bangladesh and Zimbabwe from top-tier Test matches. The proposal would establish a two-tier system where only the top eight nations play in the primary league, while the remaining nations compete in the Intercontinental Cup alongside Associate nations, effectively demoting Bangladesh to a lower rung of competition.

The implications are staggering. If accepted, the proposal could mean that Bangladesh will be locked out of Test cricket for as long as eight years, relegated to four-day matches against lesser-known cricketing nations. After eight years, Bangladesh would have to top the second-tier standings to even have a chance to face the bottom team in the top tier—a gauntlet that diminishes the progress they have made over the last fourteen years since earning Test status. It is a proposition that risks squandering the promising talents of Bangladeshi players like Mominul Haque, Sohag Gazi, Nasir Hossain, Mushfiqur Rahim, Shakib Al Hasan, and Tamim Iqbal, all of whom have shown resilience and capability in the longer format.

Bangladesh has, admittedly, struggled to achieve consistent Test success over the years. However, recent tours in Sri Lanka and New Zealand displayed promising growth and competitive spirit that reflect the nation’s growing understanding of the nuances of Test cricket. Relegating Bangladesh at this point seems not only premature but unjust, especially when some other countries, which dominate solely on home turf, continue to secure their places in the top tier despite weak overseas performances. 

Moreover, the financial justification behind the proposal also deserves scrutiny. Although India, England, and Australia undoubtedly bring substantial revenue to world cricket, Bangladesh’s fanbase offers a significant contribution, bringing in sizable viewership and engagement. The enthusiasm for cricket in Bangladesh often exceeds that in established cricket nations like New Zealand and the West Indies. To tag Bangladesh as a “minnow” and deny them the opportunity to compete regularly against the top teams is to stunt the very growth the ICC claims to foster.

This proposal has rightly provoked concern and opposition from other cricket boards, including South Africa, Pakistan, and Sri Lanka. Yet, dishearteningly, the Bangladesh Cricket Board (BCB) has not rallied behind its fans or players with the same vigour. Instead, the BCB directors have surprisingly backed the proposal, citing potential financial benefits as the justification. The decision has left fans, players, and even former Bangladeshi cricketers feeling betrayed. In their vote, the BCB appears more a business entity than a steward of Bangladeshi cricket’s legacy and future. 

This shift in stance is particularly dismaying given the high hopes placed on BCB President Nazmul Hassan Papon, who until now has been a strong advocate for Bangladesh cricket. But with the board’s endorsement of the ICC proposal, it seems the weight of immediate financial gains has overshadowed the long-term vision needed to protect the nation’s Test aspirations. The decision feels detached from the very fans whose loyalty and passion are the lifeblood of Bangladeshi cricket. It dismisses the dreams of young players who aspire to wear the Test whites and disregards the countless supporters who invest their emotions, time, and hopes in every match.

With the ICC meeting in Dubai only days away, the BCB still has an opportunity to reconsider its stance and advocate for Bangladesh’s rightful place in world cricket. While nations like South Africa and Pakistan stand in solidarity, the primary responsibility lies with the BCB itself. The board must recognize that Bangladesh’s Test future is not just about financials—it’s about the spirit, pride, and unity of a cricket-loving nation. To preserve these values, the BCB should adopt a more strategic and assertive stance, one that not only protects Bangladesh’s future in Test cricket but also respects the undying loyalty of its fans. 

As Bangladesh faces this critical juncture, the message to the BCB is clear: think beyond short-term gains and embrace the long-term vision for a nation where cricket is both a unifier and a point of pride. Let the voices of the fans echo in Dubai, for they are the heartbeat of Bangladesh cricket.

Thank You
Faisal Caesar