Ro-Ro: The Brief Brilliance of Football’s Perfect Strike Partnership

Football has always worshipped greatness. The game immortalises individuals: the dribbling genius, the prolific scorer, the untouchable playmaker. We remember the ruthless relentlessness of Cristiano Ronaldo, the majesty of Pelé, and the elegance of Diego Maradona. Yet beyond the mythology of individual excellence lies something arguably more romantic: the strike partnership.

A truly functional attacking duo captures football in its purest form. It is collaboration elevated into art — two minds moving as one, two instincts synchronised by trust, intuition, and rhythm. Goals may decorate the statistics of individuals, but great partnerships remind us that football remains fundamentally collective.

And if the 1990s were the golden age of the classic strike pairing, then Brazil’s union of Ronaldo El Fenomeno and Romário was perhaps its most intoxicating expression.

Their partnership lasted scarcely longer than a calendar year. It never illuminated a World Cup. It never evolved into a decade-long dynasty. Yet for a brief, incandescent period in 1997, “Ro-Ro” transcended ordinary footballing chemistry and entered the territory of mythology.

The Romance of the Double Act

Sport, like cinema and literature, has always adored the duo. From Starsky and Hutch to Batman and Robin, from Magic Johnson and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar to Xavi and Iniesta, there is an enduring fascination with partnerships built on contrast and complement.

Football possesses countless examples. England celebrated the efficiency of Shearer and Sheringham. Manchester United glorified Yorke and Cole. Italy produced Del Piero and Inzaghi, while the Netherlands nurtured Bergkamp and Kluivert.

Yet Ronaldo and Romário existed beyond ordinary categorisation.

They were not merely complementary forwards. They were two complete geniuses sharing the same attacking space without diminishing one another. One was explosive velocity incarnate; the other was surgical intelligence wrapped in arrogance and elegance. Together, they represented a rare paradox in football: two suns orbiting harmoniously within the same galaxy.

Two Paths Running Parallel

The symmetry between Ronaldo and Romário remains astonishing.

Both emerged from Brazil carrying impossible expectations. Both refined their craft at PSV Eindhoven. Both dazzled at FC Barcelona. Both would become World Cup winners, Ballon d’Or recipients, and eternal symbols of Brazilian attacking football.

Yet despite these overlapping trajectories, they never played together at club level. Whenever Ronaldo arrived, Romário had just departed. When one door closed, another opened for the younger Brazilian successor.

It was as though fate deliberately kept them apart in Europe, preserving their union exclusively for Brazil.

That exclusivity only deepened the mystique.

Mentor and Apprentice

Their relationship began long before their partnership.

At the 1994 FIFA World Cup, Ronaldo was merely a teenage observer. Romário, meanwhile, was the undisputed protagonist of Brazil’s campaign. In the suffocating heat of the United States, he played with the calm cruelty of a matador, dismantling defences through movement, precision, and instinct.

Ronaldo watched from the bench.

Years later, he would admit that he learned finishing, positioning, and opportunism from Romário. It was footballing inheritance in real time: the apprentice absorbing the craft of the master before eventually evolving into a phenomenon of his own.

By 1997, the pupil was ready.

1997: The Year of Ro-Ro

Brazil played 26 matches in 1997. Ronaldo and Romário started together in 16. The Seleção scored 52 goals in those games; the duo combined for 31 of them.

Those numbers alone are absurd. But statistics only hint at the devastation they produced.

Ronaldo was football’s future arriving early — explosive acceleration, terrifying balance, and dribbling that resembled controlled chaos. He attacked defenders like a natural disaster, carrying the ball with violent purpose yet supernatural elegance.

Romário was entirely different.

Where Ronaldo thundered, Romário whispered. His game was subtle, economical, and devastatingly intelligent. He thrived on half-spaces, instinctive movements, and the famously underrated toe-poke finish that goalkeepers perpetually failed to anticipate.

One overwhelmed defences physically; the other dismantled them psychologically.

Together, they became unplayable.

The Art of Understanding

The greatness of Ro-Ro was not simply that both players scored prolifically. It was the sophistication of their interaction.

Ronaldo created for Romário with startling regularity, often dragging defenders out of shape before threading impossible passes into microscopic spaces. Romário, meanwhile, understood Ronaldo’s movements instinctively, dropping deeper when necessary, accelerating into channels at precisely the right moment, and exploiting defensive hesitation with lethal calm.

Against Chile, Ronaldo exploded down the flank before delivering a perfect cross for Romário to finish. Against Mexico, he pressed high, regained possession, and immediately released his partner through on goal. Their football carried telepathic precision.

They were not merely sharing the pitch; they were conversing through movement.

Confederations Cup: The Peak of the Partnership

The defining exhibition arrived at the 1997 FIFA Confederations Cup final against Australia.

Brazil won 6–0.

Ronaldo scored a hat-trick. Romário scored a hat-trick. It remains one of the most extravagant displays of attacking synergy international football has ever witnessed.

Yet the scoreline alone fails to capture the beauty.

Ronaldo’s goals embodied violence and acceleration. Romário’s reflected economy and intelligence. One bulldozed through defenders; the other slipped around them like smoke.

The final became more than a football match. It was an exhibition of Brazilian attacking philosophy — improvisation, rhythm, joy, and cruelty fused together.

For one night, football looked effortless.

The Tragedy of 1998

All great sporting stories require tension, and Ro-Ro’s arrived cruelly.

As the 1998 FIFA World Cup approached, Brazil appeared unstoppable. Ronaldo was the world’s best player. Romário remained its most clinical finisher. Together, they seemed destined to dominate France.

But destiny intervened.

Romário suffered a hamstring injury before the tournament. Despite his insistence that he would recover, manager Zagallo excluded him from the squad. The decision devastated the striker, who broke down publicly while addressing the media.

Brazil still reached the final. Yet the tournament became overshadowed by Ronaldo’s mysterious seizure before the decisive match against France. A physically and emotionally compromised Ronaldo looked unrecognisable as France national football team won 3–0.

Football has never stopped asking the same question since:

What if Romário had been there?

Perhaps Ronaldo would have carried less psychological burden. Perhaps Brazil’s attack would have possessed greater balance. Perhaps France still would have prevailed. Football history is built upon such unknowable hypotheticals.

But the absence itself intensified the legend of Ro-Ro. Because their partnership never fully concluded on the world’s biggest stage, it remains frozen in imagination — eternally incomplete, eternally perfect.

Legacy Beyond Time

Ronaldo would eventually conquer his demons at the 2002 FIFA World Cup, scoring eight goals and leading Brazil to glory alongside Rivaldo and Ronaldinho.

Romário, meanwhile, remained immortalised as the ultimate penalty-box assassin — a striker whose confidence bordered on theatrical arrogance but whose talent justified every boast.

Separately, both men became icons.

Together, they became something rarer: a footballing fantasy briefly made real.

Modern football increasingly emphasises systems, positional structures, and tactical rigidity. In that environment, the spontaneity of Ro-Ro feels almost mythical today. Their partnership belonged to a time when football still permitted chaos, improvisation, and individual expression to flourish freely.

Perhaps that is why the sight of Ronaldo and Romário dancing together during the 2026 World Cup resonated so deeply with supporters. It was more than nostalgia. It was a reminder of a vanished footballing world — one where joy and genius existed side by side.

Their partnership lasted barely a year. It never reached its full potential. It vanished almost as suddenly as it appeared.

And maybe that is precisely why it endures.

Ronaldo and Romário were football’s perfect unfinished symphony.

Thank You 

Faisal Caesar 

England’s Red-Ball Reckoning: A Test Team in Decline?

There are bad years in Test cricket, and then there are years that expose something deeper than poor form. For England, 2021 belonged emphatically to the latter category. The numbers were grim enough on their own: 54 ducks in a calendar year, a sequence of defeats that placed them alongside some of the least successful Test sides of the modern era, and a batting average of just 24.13 runs per wicket. For an England team playing at least ten Tests in a year, that was their lowest figure on record.

Yet statistics merely described the wreckage. They did not entirely explain it.

England’s collapse was not simply the consequence of technically deficient batting, difficult pitches or an unfortunate cycle of form. It increasingly appeared to be the product of a cricketing structure that had allowed the foundations of its Test game to erode while attention, resources and imagination drifted elsewhere.

At the centre of the ruins stood Joe Root.

Root Alone Among the Ruins

Root’s 2021 was extraordinary precisely because of the dysfunction surrounding him. He accumulated 1,708 Test runs at 61.00, repeatedly transforming impending disasters into contests. But the brilliance of the captain also illuminated the inadequacy of those around him.

England’s top three averaged only 21.33 during the year, with a solitary century in 87 innings: Rory Burns’ 132 against New Zealand at Lord’s. It was the lowest top-three average among Test teams in 2021 and England’s worst annual figure since 1989.

Consequently, Root rarely walked to the crease with a platform beneath him. When batting at No. 4, he arrived with England averaging approximately 35 for 2. In 15 of his 28 innings in that position, the second wicket had fallen before the score reached 20.

Root became less a number-four batter than an emergency service.

Remarkably, even in those circumstances he averaged 48.13, including magnificent innings of 228 and 186 at Galle after arriving at 17 for 2 and 5 for 2 respectively. When England's top order survived long enough to provide something resembling stability, Root averaged above 70.

The implication was uncomfortable: England possessed arguably the finest Test batter in the world at that moment, yet constructed a batting order that repeatedly forced him to begin his innings amid crisis.

When Technique Becomes Temperament

England’s problems were often described as technical. That explanation was only partially satisfactory.

Technique matters enormously in Test cricket, but technique without patience is fragile. The recurring problem was England’s inability to absorb pressure: to leave, defend, wait and accept periods in which survival itself represented progress.

Their struggles in India earlier in 2021 had generated considerable discussion about pitches. Yet England's subsequent failures elsewhere suggested that conditions alone could not explain their decline.

The contrast with 2012 was instructive. Alastair Cook’s England travelled to India as underdogs and won 2-1. That side possessed skill, certainly, but its defining characteristic was resolve. Cook, Jonathan Trott, Kevin Pietersen and Matt Prior understood that Test batting was as much an exercise in endurance as stroke-making.

The same principle underpinned England’s historic 2010-11 Ashes victory in Australia. Defence was not considered an embarrassment. Leaving the ball was not regarded as inactivity. Patience was a weapon.

Rohit Sharma offered a contemporary demonstration of the same principle in 2021. Traditionally celebrated for his attacking gifts, Rohit became an increasingly formidable Test opener by strengthening the less glamorous dimensions of his game: trusting his defence, leaving outside off stump and accepting that domination in Test cricket is sometimes achieved by refusing to be hurried.

England knew these principles. The mystery was why so few of their batters could consistently execute them.

Melbourne and the Breaking Point

Then came Melbourne.

England were dismissed for 68 in the Boxing Day Test, surrendering the Ashes in barely twelve days of cricket. What had previously looked like decline now resembled institutional failure.

The batting had become brittle almost beyond parody. A wicket did not merely remove one batter; it seemed to infect those waiting in the dressing room. Collapses developed their own momentum.

The later descent from 68 for 0 to 124 all out provided another demonstration. Once the opening partnership was broken, England lost ten wickets for 56 runs. Root himself eventually fell to a ball that barely rose, an almost cruelly appropriate conclusion to another attempted rescue.

But blaming fate or individual deliveries missed the larger point. Strong Test teams occasionally collapse. Troubled Test teams begin to expect collapse.

England increasingly appeared to belong to the second category.

A Domestic System Losing Its Purpose

Michael Atherton identified the structural problem succinctly: England’s domestic system was neither sufficiently concentrated nor consistently competitive enough to prepare players for Test cricket.

An 18-county structure combined with four competitions created an overcrowded calendar. The County Championship had already been reduced from 16 matches to 14, yet many first-class fixtures were pushed towards the colder margins of the English summer.

That mattered.

Batters attempting to develop Test-match techniques were frequently learning their craft in conditions where survival against the moving ball could become disproportionately important. Meanwhile, much of the prime summer was increasingly occupied by white-ball competitions.

Compare that with Australia. The Sheffield Shield consists of six state teams playing ten matches each before a final. Competition for places is intense, talent is concentrated, and the pathway from domestic cricket to the Test side is comparatively clear.

New Zealand offered another useful model. As Nasser Hussain observed, improvement in their Test fortunes coincided with reforms to domestic cricket and an emphasis on better first-class pitches—not simply flatter surfaces, but pitches capable of producing a more balanced contest between bat and ball.

England therefore faced an uncomfortable question: what kind of cricketer was its domestic system actually designed to produce?

If the answer was not a Test cricketer, then repeated international batting failures were not anomalies. They were symptoms.

White-Ball Success, Red-Ball Neglect

There was an irony at the heart of England’s predicament.

The transformation of their white-ball cricket after the 2015 World Cup had been one of the great success stories of modern cricket. It culminated in the unforgettable 2019 World Cup triumph. England became aggressive, innovative and tactically fearless.

But revolution carries its own dangers.

The problem was never that England took white-ball cricket seriously. They were right to do so. The problem arose when the balance between formats became distorted.

Test cricket requires specialist habits. Concentration must survive not twenty overs but entire days. A batter must sometimes leave six consecutive deliveries without feeling compelled to manufacture an event. Bowlers must construct dismissals across spells. Captains must think in sessions rather than bursts.

Those instincts cannot simply be switched on because an Ashes series has arrived.

The brilliance of Ben Stokes in 2019 illustrated what balance could achieve: his World Cup final heroics and Headingley masterpiece became twin monuments to excellence in contrasting formats. By 2021, however, England increasingly seemed to possess a system exceptionally efficient at cultivating white-ball cricketers while hoping Test players would somehow emerge alongside them.

Hope is not a development strategy.

Selection, Leadership and Accountability

Structural problems, however, cannot excuse every tactical failure.

England’s Ashes campaign contained a catalogue of questionable decisions. Stuart Broad was omitted at Brisbane. Jack Leach was subsequently discarded at Adelaide, where England selected an attack lacking variety. Ben Stokes was repeatedly asked to deliver short-pitched bowling, reducing one of the team's most valuable all-round assets to an exhausting tactical function.

Rory Burns, England's most experienced specialist opener, was eventually replaced while Haseeb Hameed remained despite his own struggles.

Behind these decisions stood Root and head coach Chris Silverwood, who had accumulated additional influence after the removal of national selector Ed Smith.

The defence offered by ECB managing director Ashley Giles—that simply sacking individuals would not repair systemic weaknesses—contained an important truth. But structural failure and individual accountability are not mutually exclusive.

A broken system can produce poor decisions, and poor decisions can accelerate the deterioration of a broken system.

The Choice Facing English Cricket

England’s crisis was therefore larger than an Ashes defeat.

The question was whether the country that helped define the traditions of Test cricket was still prepared to build a domestic structure capable of sustaining them.

Commercial reality cannot be ignored. White-ball cricket attracts audiences, broadcasters and revenue. But balance is not nostalgia. It is strategy.

Test cricket remains deeply embedded in English cricket's identity, and the Ashes—however repetitive or commercially inflated it may sometimes appear—continues to occupy a unique place in the imagination of its supporters. A governing body cannot spend decades teaching its audience that the Ashes represents cricket's ultimate examination and then systematically weaken the machinery designed to prepare players for it.

England did not need to imitate Australia or New Zealand blindly. It needed a model suited to its own cricketing culture: fewer compromises, meaningful first-class competition, better scheduling, stronger pitches, clearer pathways and sufficient space for players to acquire the technical and psychological disciplines demanded by five-day cricket.

Because the lesson of 2021 was ultimately not about 54 ducks, 68 all out or even another Ashes humiliation.

Those were merely the visible wounds.

The deeper concern was that England had begun to lose sight of what makes a Test cricketer. Root's lonely accumulation of runs could conceal that decay only for so long. Eventually even the finest captain and batter runs out of rescues.

England's red-ball future therefore depended not on discovering another Joe Root, but on creating a system in which Joe Root no longer had to stand alone.

That was the real reckoning of 2021—and until England confronted it, there was no guarantee that rock bottom had actually been reached.

Thank You 

Faisal Caesar 

Virat Kohli: The Architect of a High Voltage Era in Indian Cricket

Captained in 68 Test matches.  

Won 40 of them.  

Scored 5,884 runs as captain at a formidable average of 54.80, with 20 centuries.  

But numbers, while impressive, only skim the surface of what Virat Kohli truly represented. In the grand theatre of sports, legendary captains transcend statistics. They mould legacies—ones that resonate beyond victories, embedding themselves into the hearts of fans and foes alike. Kohli was such a captain—a force that redefined Indian cricket not just by results but by attitude and ambition.  

From the moment he led India in his first Test match at Adelaide in 2014, Kohli embodied something greater than leadership. He became a symbol of belief—hope personified in flesh and blood. In that historic Adelaide game, chasing a daunting target, he didn’t play to survive; he played to win. Though Australia narrowly escaped his pursuit, Kohli’s intent was unmistakable: Indian cricket would no longer be content with playing it safe. It was the dawn of a new era—one where dreams, however impossible, were worth chasing.  

Kohli’s captaincy echoed the spirit of Mansur Ali Khan Pataudi’s defiant elegance and Sourav Ganguly’s relentless audacity. But it added something distinct—a fearless aggression that demanded excellence not only from batters and spinners but, crucially, from fast bowlers.  

Revolutionizing India's Bowling Arsenal  

Historically, Indian cricket was known for spin wizardry. The off-breaks of Erapalli Prasanna, the guile of Bishan Singh Bedi, and later the magic of Anil Kumble kept India competitive in home conditions. Even Kapil Dev, a rare fast-bowling genius, was the exception, not the template. India’s bowling identity remained rooted in the turning pitches of Chennai and Kanpur.  

When Kohli took over as full-time captain in 2015, spinners like Ravichandran Ashwin and Ravindra Jadeja remained central figures. But Kohli understood that to conquer cricket’s final frontier—victory in conditions abroad—India’s bowling needed evolution. The key was pace. And under Kohli’s leadership, Indian cricket witnessed a revolution.  

In partnership with head coach Ravi Shastri, Kohli backed a new breed of fast bowlers, turning them from supporting acts into lead protagonists. Mohammed Shami’s relentless seam movement, Jasprit Bumrah’s unorthodox brilliance, Bhuvneshwar Kumar’s swing mastery, and the rejuvenated Umesh Yadav formed the backbone of India’s pace battery. Even Ishant Sharma, once written off, found redemption and resurgence under Kohli’s guidance. Later, young firebrands like Mohammed Siraj would carry the mantle forward, fueled by the same aggressive ethos.  

The Fast-Bowler’s Captain  

Kohli’s leadership style meshed seamlessly with his pace unit’s ambitions. In him, they found a captain who relished aggression—a leader who believed that winning wasn’t merely about containment but about dominance. His fast bowlers responded in kind, producing thrillingly hostile spells: late swing at searing speeds, wicked bounce from back-of-length deliveries, and bouncers that snarled like feral beasts.  

The shift was palpable. India, once perceived as a team vulnerable outside Asia, now boasted an attack capable of rattling the best batting lineups in their own backyards. Kohli’s men weren’t just competing—they were conquering. A Test series win in Australia in 2018-19, the first in Indian history, was emblematic of the transformation. And the aura of India’s pace battery became a thing of folklore, reshaping how Indian cricket would be viewed for generations to come.  

Legacy Beyond Numbers  

Many argue that Kohli merely benefited from a system that had begun nurturing fast-bowling talent before his tenure. But recognizing potential and moulding it into something extraordinary is an art not every leader masters. Kohli did. He not only deployed his resources effectively but also instilled belief—belief that India could win anywhere, against anyone, and in any conditions.  

He also returned Test cricket to the centre stage, breathing new life into the longest format with his unapologetic passion for the game. Kohli’s India didn’t play to draw or delay—they played to dominate. His team chased victories with a fervour that made every Test series feel like a contest of consequence.  

Great captains do more than win matches; they leave behind a culture. Kohli’s tenure set a new benchmark for intensity, preparation, and ambition. And though his tenure ended, his shadow lingers—every fast bowler charging in with menace, every batter walking out with swagger, carries a bit of Kohli’s essence with them.  

The Path Ahead  

It is now up to the next skipper to carry forward this legacy. Maintaining such a high standard will be daunting. Kohli’s era was one of constant elevation—of breaking new ground and redefining limits. The expectations will weigh heavily on his successor, but the blueprint is clear: play fearlessly, aim high, and never settle.  

The question isn’t just whether the next captain can replicate Kohli’s numbers but whether they can uphold the culture he cultivated—a culture where the pursuit of excellence never rests and where the impossible is merely another challenge to be embraced.  

Kohli's reign wasn’t just about wins or records—it was a manifesto for modern cricket. And like all great legacies, it will remain etched in the annals of the game, inspiring those who dream, dare, and lead.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

Bangladesh Cricket at Crossroads: The Exit of Ottis Gibson is a Big Loss

 

Ottis Gibson’s cricketing journey has always been about leaving an indelible impact. Whether as a player or a coach, Gibson’s career is marked by resilience, innovation, and a fierce determination to succeed. His contributions, both on and off the field, underscore the depth of his character and his unwavering commitment to the game.

The Player: A Heart Full of Fire

As a player, Gibson was a hard-hitting late middle-order batter and a medium-fast bowler who delivered some of the most memorable performances in cricket. Despite facing injuries and limited opportunities in Test cricket, he made his presence felt in One-Day Internationals (ODIs). In his 15-match ODI career, Gibson’s top score of 52 against Australia and best bowling figures of 5/42 against Sri Lanka highlighted his potential. He achieved another five-wicket haul and two four-wicket spells, finishing with an impressive bowling average of 18.26.

One of his most iconic performances came in first-class cricket when he took 10 wickets for 47 runs against Hampshire, joining the elite group of bowlers to achieve this feat. In the County Championship, his exploits with both bat and ball, including a Player of the Match performance for Durham in the Friends Provident Trophy, showcased his all-round brilliance. Gibson’s ability to rise to the occasion made him a formidable presence on the field.

The Coach: A Catalyst for Change

Transitioning into coaching, Gibson’s impact became even more profound. As England’s bowling coach, he played a pivotal role in the evolution of their attack. Stuart Broad credited Gibson for transforming his approach against left-handers, emphasizing round-the-wicket bowling and exploiting the crease. Under Gibson’s guidance, England’s bowlers, including James Anderson, Ben Stokes, and Mark Wood, reached new heights.

When Gibson took charge of South Africa’s bowling unit, he nurtured talents like Kagiso Rabada, Lungi Ngidi, and Anrich Nortje. Rabada’s rise to become the world’s No. 1 bowler was a testament to Gibson’s mentorship, as was the emergence of Ngidi and Nortje as formidable pacers. Gibson’s philosophy of empowering young bowlers while addressing their weaknesses proved invaluable.

Bangladesh: A Short but Significant Tenure

Gibson’s stint as Bangladesh’s bowling coach was brief but transformative. He identified and developed promising fast bowlers like Ebadot Hossain, Taskin Ahmed, and Shoriful Islam. His emphasis on fitness, technique, and mental toughness brought out the best in them. Ebadot’s historic performance in New Zealand and Taskin’s resurgence were direct outcomes of Gibson’s guidance. Shoriful, too, blossomed under his mentorship, becoming an effective new-ball partner.

However, Gibson’s tenure ended abruptly, raising questions about the management of Bangladesh cricket. Despite his evident success, his contract was not renewed, a decision emblematic of deeper issues within the system.

The Syndication Problem

Bangladesh cricket’s administration has long been criticized for being influenced by syndication—a network of senior players, local coaches, and officials leveraging political and media connections to maintain control. This environment has driven away several high-calibre coaches, including Chandika Hathurusingha, Steve Rhodes, and now Ottis Gibson. Such politics undermine progress and discourage merit-based decision-making.

Insiders suggest that this syndication prioritizes personal interests over the team’s growth. The reluctance to renew Gibson’s contract, despite his success, reflects a short-sighted approach that prioritizes maintaining the status quo over fostering long-term development.

The Bigger Picture

Gibson’s departure is a loss for Bangladesh cricket and the sport as a whole. His ability to identify and nurture talent and his fearless honesty made him a rare asset. Yet, his exit highlights a systemic issue that threatens to stifle the growth of Bangladesh cricket. If this trend continues, the country risks losing more valuable contributors, jeopardising its cricketing future.

In the long run, the persistence of syndication will only harm Bangladesh cricket. True progress requires embracing meritocracy, fostering transparency, and prioritizing the team’s success over individual agendas. Ottis Gibson’s story serves as both an inspiration and a cautionary tale—a reminder of what can be achieved when talent and integrity are given the space to thrive, and what is lost when they are not.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

Bangladesh rise from the ashes

Our brightest blazes of gladness are commonly kindled by unexpected sparks.

Samuel Johnson

 

Playing Test cricket had become a torture-tale for Bangladesh in the last year and if we consider their performance away from home then it has been a story of disgrace and heartbreaks. Even though there had been shining moments, sadly, they just get overshadowed by the number of defeats and dismal displays. After the frustrating performances last year, the Tigers were scrapping the bottom of the barrel of fortunes in Test cricket. It was time to rise from the ashes; it was time to hit the punch above your weight.

Bangladesh does not have fond memories of New Zealand since they started touring the beautiful country back in 2001-02. Their first-ever tour was nightmarish and apart from some individual flashes of brilliance, Bangladesh stood no chance against New Zealand. And, the outcome was expected the same before the commencement of the first Test at Mount Maunganui.

Cricket is known as the game of glorious uncertainty and when the unexpected happens, it triggers varied emotions – motivates a unit that is suffering from self-confidence, lifts the spirit and histories are created when the unexpected happens.

At times, cricketing fortunes can take by the horns while at times, it is better to let the guardian angel guide the way when darkness prevails – the ride might be bumpy – still, resilience helps a lot during such moments and light is seen at the end of the tunnel – the darkness gives away to a ray of hope, the hope to unite and fight back – gradually, the unexpected becomes expected.

Planning is useful, but the most interesting times in life come from moments that catch you by surprise.

Bangladesh’s majorly low-key performances and with the absence of top players like Shakib Al Hasan and Tamim Iqbal – had reduced them to a third-string side that can be hammered by any top tier sides within a few days and for the World Test Champions, it should have been a cakewalk.

History was created at Mount Maunganui and it was Bangladesh who added another feather to their less illustrious Test history by bringing an end to New Zealand’s 17-match unbeaten run at home in Test matches. The Champions were dominated by a unit that had played with the intent to win from Day 1 and astonishingly, Bangladesh – a team that was beaten within two days of a rain-affected Test match last month – beat New Zealand in all the departments.

The key to Bangladesh’s success was discipline and patience. Both with the bat and ball, they had been resolved and never dropped their shoulders throughout the five intriguing days.

Ebadot Hossain, Taskin Ahmed, Shoriful Islam and Mehidy Hasan Miraz showed the importance of bowling with a tighter line while the batters – Nazmul Hossain, Mominul Hoque, Mahmudul Hasan and Liton Das showed how important occupying the crease could be - leaving the ball is equally important as playing your shots and runs will come if you spend time at the crease.

A team which is known for their lack of interest in playing the longer formats, the exhibition of the basics of Test cricket by them, not only surprised everyone but at the same, earned a lot of accolades from their harsh critics.

Bangladesh have risen from the ashes and this bright performance should not be overshadowed by strings of defeats – consistency is expected so that victories in Test matches against the top sides don’t become an unexpected one – we do want moments of happiness that would not take us by surprise. 

Note: This article has been posted at Cricketsoccer on 05/01/2022 Bangladesh rise from the ashes

Thank You

Faisal Caesar