Brazil’s Uneasy Progress: Ancelotti’s Search for Identity Amid a Fragmented World Cup Cycle

Brazil’s final image in the 2025 calendar was far from dazzling, yet the overall balance of the last FIFA window tilts—albeit slightly—toward optimism. Across matches against Senegal and Tunisia, two opponents with contrasting styles and temperaments, Carlo Ancelotti continued sculpting the Seleção’s still-fragile identity. The answers he found were partial, the doubts persistent, but the direction—at long last—visible.

A Cycle Built on Ruins

In a normally structured World Cup cycle, the closing year before the tournament is the phase of refinement: consolidating ideas, polishing automatisms, and fine-tuning details. Brazil, however, lives in a parallel timeline. Four coaches have come and gone since Qatar, and Ancelotti, inheriting a fractured process, must run tests that should have been resolved eighteen months ago. Instability begets inconsistency, and the national team’s fluctuating performances reflect the chaos of its preparation.

The match against Japan last month testified to these oscillations, and the 1–1 draw with Tunisia in Lille only reinforced the point. Ancelotti reduced the number of changes between matches—from wholesale rotations to just three adjustments—but even then, the team’s structure lost coherence once second-half substitutions began to flow. Brazil’s disorganization after the break was not an isolated episode but a symptom of a group still searching for an internal compass.

Even the opening minutes were troubling. Tunisia’s intensity suffocated Brazil, whose midfield needed too long to synchronize, adjust spacing, and regain control of the tempo.

Fragile Edges: Defensive and Goalkeeping Concerns

The right flank became a focal point of fragility. Wesley, entrusted with a starting role, had a night to forget—culminating in the mistake that led to Tunisia’s opening goal. His halftime substitution was inevitable. During this window, Éder Militão unexpectedly emerged as a right-back alternative, offering defensive solidity but little in the way of offensive progression. Ancelotti has experimented widely—Paulo Henrique, Vanderson, Vitinho—yet clarity remains elusive. Meanwhile, Danilo quietly solidifies himself as a near-certain World Cup squad member, not through brilliance but through versatility, leadership, and reliability.

In goal, the picture is no clearer. Ederson, impeccable against Senegal in terms of saves, once again showed vulnerability with his feet—nearly gifting a goal. Bento, given the opportunity against Tunisia, appeared insecure. This is not a crisis yet, but the shadow of uncertainty lingers behind the undisputed Ederson-Alisson hierarchy.

A Left Flank Without an Owner

If the backup goalkeeper issue can be shelved, left-back cannot. Alex Sandro evaporated into anonymity against Senegal; Caio Henrique, making his first start, performed competently but without imposing himself. He closed spaces, supported combinations, avoided errors—but also failed to stake a definitive claim.

With barely seven months before the World Cup, Brazil lacks a true owner of the position. Ironically, Douglas Santos—used sparingly—has made the strongest impression so far. For a team historically synonymous with full-back excellence, this lingering vacuum is particularly symbolic.

The Overcrowded, Uncertain Attack

If the defense suffers from scarcity, the attack is drowning in abundance. Estêvão, incandescent over this window, seems impossible to remove from the starting eleven. Yet Raphinha, Brazil’s best performer in the last European season, is waiting to return from injury. When he does, who makes way? The only time both were fielded together was against Chile—on a night without Vinícius Júnior.

Tactically, Ancelotti appears increasingly wedded to a 4-2-4, a system that leverages verticality and the ceaseless interchanges of his front quartet while acknowledging the absence of a natural creative midfielder. Brazil thrives in transitions, in broken games, in open fields. But the World Cup will inevitably bring low blocks, tight spaces, and matches where a true centre-forward becomes indispensable.

And there lies another void.

The Missing No. 9

Before Qatar, Pedro seized his chance by scoring against Tunisia. This time, Vitor Roque flashed potential—most notably when he won the penalty Paquetá later squandered—but not enough to secure his ticket. Names circulate like roulette numbers: Pedro, Igor Jesus, Richarlison, Kaio Jorge. None has captured the role. None have convinced Ancelotti they can.

This uncertainty coexists with another ever-present question: Neymar. His future with the national team, his physical condition, his symbolic weight—these will dominate debates until the final squad list is announced.

The Match in Lille: A Microcosm of Brazil’s Crisis

The 1–1 draw against Tunisia distilled the wider issues. Brazil struggled to create danger and resorted to long-distance attempts. Tunisia countered with clarity, especially down Abdi’s left flank. A Wesley error opened the door for Mistouri’s goal. Estêvão equalized from the penalty spot just before halftime.

After the interval, Brazil regressed. Danilo and Vitor Roque entered, and the latter produced the team’s brightest moment by forcing the second penalty. But in a decision that sparked questions, Ancelotti instructed Lucas Paquetá to take the shot instead of Estêvão—who had already scored one. Paquetá missed.

Estêvão’s post-match comment revealed both obedience and frustration:

“It was an order from above. I really wanted to take it, but I supported my teammate. We have to train to improve. In a World Cup, you must take your chances.”

In that sentence lies the delicate balance between hierarchy and form, between experience and emergence—a balance Brazil has yet to reconcile.

Hope, But With Work Ahead

Brazil ends 2025 in better shape than it began. There is structure, there is promise, and there is finally a sense of direction. But Ancelotti’s task remains immense. The unresolved battles—for full-back slots, for the No. 9 role, for attacking combinations—will define the months ahead.

A team once accustomed to certainties now approaches the World Cup guided by questions. And yet, sometimes, questions sharpen identity more than answers.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

A Tale of Two Strengths: Pakistan’s Ruthless Pace and India’s Fleeting Resistances

Pakistan’s victory—achieved with seven balls to spare after chasing 164 in just one hundred minutes—was not merely a triumph in arithmetic. It was an emphatic assertion of their dual superiority: the incisiveness of their pace attack and the depth of their batting. Sarfraz Nawaz, with match figures of 9 for 159, and Imran Khan, quicker and more hostile even when less prolific, combined to expose the vulnerability of India’s top order. Yet, India found moments of brilliance through Sunil Gavaskar’s twin centuries, only the second time in his eight-year international career that he achieved this rare feat, and through the defiant all-round efforts of Kapil Dev and Karsan Ghavri—performances that kept the contest from collapsing into a one-sided procession.

India’s Miscalculation: A Side Unbalanced and a Captain Uncertain

India’s woes did not stem from batting alone. Much of their eventual unraveling could be traced to Bishan Singh Bedi’s misreading of both pitch and personnel. For the first time in years, India entered a Test with only two spinners, not because the Karachi pitch demanded pace but because the management feared weakening their batting. Ironically, even this conservatism did not stabilize them. The surface—grassier and more uneven than typical for Karachi—offered variable bounce, granting Pakistan’s pacers a natural advantage India never matched.

Bedi’s captaincy oscillated between caution and overreach. He delayed using his spinners when his seamers tired, and later persisted with himself too long in pursuit of tail-end wickets. These tactical missteps allowed Pakistan to seize phases of control India might otherwise have contested.

The First Innings: Promise, Collapse, and Late Recovery

India’s first innings began with promise after winning their first toss of the series. Partnerships of 58 and 73 carried them to 179 for four, but the innings pivoted sharply after Gavaskar’s dismissal at 217. A familiar slide followed—two wickets for just 36 runs—until Kapil Dev and Ghavri stitched together an eighth-wicket stand of 84. Kapil’s 59 off only 48 balls, laced with aggression (two sixes, eight fours), lifted India to a total that looked competitive, if not commanding.

Pakistan replied in similarly cyclical fashion: a composed start, a mid-innings wobble at 187 for five, and finally a monumental rescue effort. For a brief period Bedi and Chandrasekhar rekindled the craft of their prime, threatening to tilt the match. But Pakistan’s depth—symbolized by Javed Miandad’s second century of the series—proved too substantial. Miandad and Mushtaq Mohammad added 154 for the sixth wicket, seizing an advantage that India’s bowling could not reclaim.

The Turning Point: Tailenders and Captaincy Under Strain

On the third morning, India briefly clawed back. Mushtaq departed for 78 before Pakistan overtook the total, and Miandad fell with the lead only 30. Yet India squandered the moment. Pakistan’s tail, encouraged by Mushtaq’s assertive leadership, counterattacked decisively. By the time the declaration came, the hosts had amassed a 137-run lead—a margin shaped as much by Indian fatigue as by their captain’s muddled use of resources.

The Second Innings: Gavaskar’s Defiance and India’s Daybreak Collapse

India’s second innings began with eight hours still left in the match, and the pressure told instantly. Imran Khan bowled with blistering speed, nearly removing Gavaskar in the opening over. Sarfraz struck soon after, removing Chauhan and almost claiming Mohinder Amarnath—saved only by a dropped catch from Zaheer Abbas. Amarnath survived long enough to forge a 117-run stand with Gavaskar, restoring hope.

But the final morning exposed India’s fragility once more. By half an hour before lunch they had slumped to 173 for six, ahead by only 36. Gavaskar, nearing another hundred at lunch, shifted into a higher gear afterward, farming the strike and targeting Iqbal Qasim and Sikander Bakht. With Ghavri he added 73 invaluable runs, creating a thin but crucial buffer.

Then came the decisive breakthrough: at 246, Sarfraz—round the wicket—found Gavaskar’s edge. Bari’s superb catch ended an epic innings and punctured India’s resistance. Kapil Dev’s counterattack gave India flickers of momentum, but Mushtaq delayed the new ball for five overs, nearly gifting India breathing space. Once the ball was finally taken, the innings unravelled abruptly.

 

The Final Assault: A Chase Against Time, Won Through Imagination

Pakistan began the final chase needing 164 with the clock and mandatory overs looming. Majid fell early, but the promoted Miandad joined Asif Iqbal, turning the pursuit into a display of audacity and tactical sharpness. With bold field placements, daring running, and total command of tempo, the pair hammered 97 runs in just nine overs, shredding India’s defensive lines.

Even after Asif’s dismissal, Pakistan did not retreat. And if any doubt lingered, Imran Khan extinguished it brutally in the sixteenth over—lofting Bedi for two sixes and a four. It was a fitting symbolic ending: Pakistan’s pace spearhead finishing what he and Sarfraz had begun.

A Match of Contrasts and Exposed Fault Lines

The Karachi Test became a narrative of contrasts.

Pakistan’s pace vs. India’s indecision.

Gavaskar’s mastery vs. the fragility around him.

Mushtaq’s tactical boldness vs. Bedi’s strategic hesitation.

India produced moments of valour—Gavaskar’s twin hundreds foremost among them—but the broader pattern revealed a side caught between caution and confusion. Pakistan, meanwhile, showcased a team whose multiple strengths converged at critical moments.

The victory, ultimately, was not won in a single session but in the accumulation of sharper choices, deeper batting, and the relentless hostility of Imran and Sarfraz—a combination India never quite solved.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

India vs. Zimbabwe, Hero Cup, 1993: A Day of Chaos, Drama, and a Fitting Stalemate in Indore

When the Indian cricket team arrived in Indore for their clash against Zimbabwe, they might have expected a routine encounter, yet what transpired both on and off the field was anything but ordinary. A single day's practice was all they were afforded before the match, and even that was marred by organizational blunders. Team captain Mohammad Azharuddin and middle-order batsman Pravin Amre arrived late for practice, only to be denied entry by the local police. Confusion reigned as the two players tried to negotiate their way past an unyielding security cordon. Only after some convincing did they gain access, but the incident left Azhar fuming. His frustration boiled over when he took his anger out on photographers, verbally chastising them before ordering the security to disperse the crowd. The tension in the air was palpable, setting the tone for what would become an unforgettable game.

Off the field, chaos of a different kind unfolded. As reported by The Indian Express, opportunistic policemen were making a quick buck by charging eager fans for entry into the stadium. For those unwilling to endure the serpentine queues for tickets, there was a more convenient—albeit illicit—alternative. At Rs 50 for a pavilion seat and Rs 10 for a spot in the stands, spectators were willing to pay a premium for hassle-free access. This parallel economy flourished under the very noses of law enforcement, underscoring the deep-rooted issues of corruption in the administration of the game.

But the true drama played out on the field. With Kapil Dev having relinquished his role as India’s premier all-rounder, the mantle had passed to Manoj Prabhakar. The responsibility of opening the innings alongside WV Raman also fell upon him after Zimbabwe’s stand-in captain Andy Flower put India in to bat.

The Indian Innings – A Story of Struggle, Tactical Moves and Resilience

Raman, struggling for form with scores of 0 and 4 in the tournament, was retained despite Navjot Sidhu’s injury. His poor run continued as he was dismissed for a duck by David Brain, immediately putting India on the back foot. However, what followed was a partnership of patience and determination. Vinod Kambli, a man often mentioned in the same breath as Sachin Tendulkar in those days, joined Prabhakar to steady the innings. The duo proceeded cautiously, putting together 122 runs before Kambli fell to the off-breaks of Stephen Peall for a 96-ball 55. His innings was marked by an unusually restrained approach, hitting just one boundary.

Then came a curious tactical move from Azhar. Instead of sending himself, Tendulkar, or Amre to capitalize on the platform, he promoted Vijay Yadav. It was a decision that left many baffled, for if a big hitter was needed, was Yadav truly the best option over someone like Kapil Dev? The experiment backfired spectacularly—Yadav lasted just two balls before attempting a wild heave and getting dismissed for a duck.

Azhar finally came in to join Prabhakar, rotating the strike efficiently and keeping the scoreboard ticking with well-placed singles. Prabhakar, nearing a century, decided to take the attack to Peall but perished in the process, stumped after a well-crafted 91 off 126 balls. His innings, while invaluable, lacked acceleration, a factor that may have cost India some crucial runs in the final overs. Tendulkar, ever the aggressor, played a cameo—smashing a brisk 24 off just 16 balls before falling to Heath Streak. Azhar, shifting into slog mode, finished with an unbeaten 54 off 56 balls, including four boundaries and a six. India closed at 248 for 5—a competitive total given the era and considering their perfect 10-0 record against Zimbabwe in ODIs.

The Zimbabwean Response – A Story of Grit

However, Zimbabwe had come prepared. Dropping Mark Dekker for Grant Flower seemed a logical move, but it backfired. Grant, opening with his elder brother Andy, misread a Prabhakar delivery and was bowled early. Things worsened when Alistair Campbell, attempting an ambitious leg glance off Javagal Srinath, was bowled by sheer pace. At 23 for 2, Zimbabwe seemed in trouble.

Then came Dave Houghton, the veteran warhorse, to inject some stability. Azhar, sensing the need for a breakthrough, rotated his bowlers. First Tendulkar, then Kapil, but Houghton was undeterred. His counterattack featured three crisp boundaries and a towering six off Kapil. But just as he looked set for a match-defining knock, Kapil struck back, trapping him LBW just after the first drinks break. At 67 for 3, the match was finely poised.

Andy Waller kept Zimbabwe in the hunt with a fluent 33, but when he slashed at a Tendulkar delivery and was caught at gully, the tide shifted once more. The decisive blow came when Andy Flower, the glue holding Zimbabwe’s innings together, attempted an ill-advised slog off Rajesh Chauhan and was stumped for 52. At 143 for 5, India seemed firmly in control.

The Drama

But the match was far from over. Young Guy Whittall joined Ali Omarshah, and the duo launched a stunning counterattack. Their rapid 54-run partnership in just nine overs not only reduced the required runs by half but also ensured the run rate remained manageable. Meanwhile, India’s fielding imploded. Raman, in particular, had a dreadful day, drawing boos from the Indore crowd. Azhar himself lamented the shoddy fielding, later writing in his Indian Express column: “I’ve seen poor performances, but this was shocking. If Zimbabwe could adapt to the conditions, why couldn’t we? If we keep fielding like this, we’ll need to score 350 every match just to account for the fielding errors.”

Srinath, however, turned the game on its head in one sensational over. First, Omarshah fell to a lifter, playing it straight to Chauhan. Then, Whittall, stepping out to attack, was run out in a moment of sheer brilliance from Srinath himself. When Brain edged one to Azhar at slip, Zimbabwe had slumped to 212 for 8. India had one foot over the finish line.

Yet, Zimbabwe refused to surrender. Streak, though not yet the all-rounder he would become, showed glimpses of his fighting spirit. Peall, surprisingly, took the lead, audaciously pulling Srinath for a boundary. The equation narrowed—12 needed off 8 balls.

The climax was a nerve-wracking blur. A mix-up between Kapil and Kumble allowed an easy catch to go down, giving Zimbabwe three crucial runs. Peall was dismissed, bringing last man John Rennie to the crease with 10 needed off the final over.

Prabhakar, India’s most trusted death bowler, was given the responsibility. He held his nerve despite a tense few deliveries. Zimbabwe needed four off two balls. Rennie managed to get a boundary, bringing it down to two off the last ball.

Prabhakar produced a perfect yorker. Rennie somehow dug it out, scampering for a single. Streak, turning for a desperate second, fell short of his ground. Indore had witnessed a tie—only the third in ODI history at the time.

In the end, no side emerged victorious, yet neither felt defeated. It was a game that encapsulated cricket’s unpredictability, where fortunes swung wildly until the very last moment. As players left the field, it was clear: this match would not be forgotten anytime soon.

 Thank You

Faisal Caesar

Brazil Rediscovers Its Footballing Soul? But Carlo Ancelotti’s True Test Begins Now

For much of this World Cup cycle, Brazil appeared adrift—an aristocratic footballing nation wandering without direction. Interim coaches rotated like temporary caretakers, defensive faults grew into structural fissures, and constant lineup changes left the team searching for an identity that never arrived. The Seleção, once synonymous with clarity and joy, seemed reduced to improvisation and confusion.

Seven months before the World Cup, that narrative has begun to change. Under Carlo Ancelotti, Brazil has not yet become the finished article. But at last, it looks like a team that remembers what it wants to be.

The 2–0 victory over Senegal in London was more than a friendly win. It was a statement of intent. Against a side unbeaten in 26 matches, Brazil showed order, ambition, and—most importantly—an emerging identity. For a team that had spent months stumbling through tactical uncertainty, the performance offered the rare gift of optimism.

Ancelotti’s Early Blueprint: Structure Before Stardust

Ancelotti has led Brazil through only seven matches, yet the contours of his influence are already visible. His first achievement has been to restore structure to a team long consumed by chaos.

Before his arrival, Brazil conceded goals in six of seven games. Under the Italian, they have allowed almost none—exceptions coming in a half played at altitude in Bolivia and a weakened second half against Japan. The shift is not cosmetic; it is foundational.

Several key adjustments explain this transformation:

Casemiro’s return provided steel and serenity in front of the back line.

Marking systems became coherent, whether pressing high, organizing in a mid-block, or defending deep.

Full-back choices emphasized defensive intelligence, especially the deployment of Éder Militão on the right.

Militão’s reintroduction as a full-back, the most notable tweak against Senegal, strengthened the defensive structure and added aerial presence. More importantly, it symbolized Ancelotti’s pragmatism—an insistence on balance over spectacle.

Liberating the Attack: Talent Aligned With Purpose

The other half of Ancelotti’s early success lies in maximizing the individual talent that Brazil had previously failed to harness.

Vinícius Júnior, for instance, is beginning to resemble his Real Madrid self. Freed from excessive defensive duties and allowed to attack from narrower starting positions, Vini has rediscovered his danger. His partnership with Rodrygo—cultivated on Spanish nights—has finally crossed the ocean.

And then there is Estêvão, the teenager whose rise feels inevitable. With four goals in six appearances, he has turned Brazil’s right flank into his personal stage. Once a prospect, he is fast becoming a pillar.

The match against Senegal showcased a front line liberated by Ancelotti’s clarity. Brazil exchanged only 299 passes, a statistic that reveals the match’s true character: vertical, incisive, and fearless.

A Performance Built on Courage and Coordination

What made the win particularly revealing was Brazil’s pressing approach. Ancelotti’s plan was bold: defend with individual duels across the pitch, trusting that intensity and coordination would suffocate Senegal’s build-up.

This was not merely a tactical choice; it was a cultural reset.

- Vini and Estêvão hunted Senegal’s centre-backs.

- Bruno Guimarães stepped high as an auxiliary playmaker.

- Militão pressed forward with confidence.

- The central defenders squared up to Sadio Mané and Ismaïla Sarr without hesitation.

The effect was immediate. Senegal struggled to find passing options, lost possession in dangerous zones, and faced wave after wave of Brazilian attacks. Cunha hit the post. Vini forced multiple saves. Rodrygo came close. And when Casemiro crafted the sequence leading to Estêvão’s opener, it felt like a symbolic passing of the torch—a veteran clearing a path for Brazil’s future.

But Beneath the Revival Lie Uncomfortable Questions

An editorial must celebrate progress, but it must also interrogate it. And Brazil’s revival, promising as it is, carries its own uncertainties.

Can a two-man midfield withstand elite opposition?

Casemiro and Bruno Guimarães excel in transition-heavy games. But opponents with superior central occupation may expose them.

Should Ancelotti experiment or stabilize?

With few friendlies before the World Cup, every tactical shift carries both potential insight and potential disruption.

Who is the number 9?

Brazil lacks a clear, physical centre-forward for matches that demand one.

Is Alex Sandro the permanent solution at left-back?

Reliable, yes—undisputed, no.

Where does Raphinha fit upon return?

Brazil’s “good problem,” but a real dilemma nonetheless.

These questions do not diminish Brazil’s progress; they define the path ahead.

The Awakening of a Sleeping Giant

Carlo Ancelotti has not yet made Brazil a champion, but he has made them coherent. He has replaced anxiety with structure, confusion with clarity, and improvisation with identity. In just a few months, he has given the Seleção what it lacked most: a heartbeat.

The victory over Senegal was the most complete performance of this cycle. It was also a reminder that Brazil’s resurgence is a beginning, not an endpoint.

Football’s greatest nations are not judged by early promise but by their ability to sustain it. The World Cup is approaching quickly, indifferent to Brazil’s period of rediscovery.

For now, though, the fog has lifted. The road ahead is visible.

Whether this path leads to genuine contention or merely to another cycle of unfulfilled hope will depend on how Ancelotti navigates the dilemmas that await.

Brazil has rediscovered its footballing soul. The question now is whether it can protect it.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

Eden Gardens, Uneven Heartbeat: A Test Match That Exposed the Soul of Two Teams

Ultimately, Eden Gardens did not host a Test match.

It staged a morality play.

The cricket was merely the script—uneven, unpredictable, occasionally unfair—performed on a surface that behaved like a fickle deity. Across three astonishing days, the pitch peeled, gasped, kicked, died, spat and sulked; fast bowlers roared like it was Johannesburg, spinners prospered like it was Kanpur, and batters flinched like it was Lahore 1987.

And inside this carnival of chaos, South Africa achieved something they had not done in 15 years: win a Test in India.

But the result is almost secondary.

What this match really revealed were truths each team has tried hard to avoid.

This wasn’t simply a Test match.

It was an X-ray.

India: When Mastery Meets a Mirror

India arrived with a plan that looked modern and brave: six bowlers, Washington Sundar at No. 3, and spin depth bordering on excess. They spoke of balanced pitches and “good cricket wickets” after New Zealand's loss in the series last year. They claimed they wanted conditions that stretched their batters, not pampered their spinners.

Then the Test began—and the surface betrayed that rhetoric almost instantly.

Bumrah the Great Leveller

Day one belonged to Jasprit Bumrah, the only constant in India’s rapidly shifting cricketing identity. His 16th Test five-for was a study in predation: the late swing to Ryan Rickelton, the sharp lift to Aiden Markram, the relentless nip-backers that forced South Africa back into the kind of hesitation that haunts teams touring India.

He gave India a luxury lead-in: South Africa shot out for 159, the kind of number that historically seals the visiting side’s fate.

But for all Bumrah’s brilliance, India were soon reminded that you cannot win a Test on reputation alone.

A Batting Line-up That Looked Confused, Not Helpless

Rahul, Washington and Jadeja all scored between 27 and 39.

They all looked good.

They all got out the moment the pitch whispered a dark secret.

That is the story of unstable surfaces—not collapses, but illusions.

India’s batters were competent, but not confident. They grafted, but did not adapt. When Harmer arrived with the skillset of a man who has spent a decade refining himself, India’s batting order melted in single digits.

If day one showed India at their best, day two showed a team living on the memory of their best.

South Africa: The Team That Came Prepared for Spin and Won Through Something Stranger

South Africa did not win because the pitch turned.

They won because they learned to live with its indecision sooner.

And they won because Simon Harmer, the spin bowler once discarded as a symbol of South Africa’s 2015 humiliation, returned like a craftsman who had spent nine long years sharpening his chisels.

Harmer: A Career in Three Acts

The Harmer of 2015 was a domestic success story thrust into the Ashwin-Jadeja inferno.

The Harmer of 2022 was a pandemic stand-in.

The Harmer of 2025 is a man who has bowled more overs on imperfect surfaces than some international spinners do in a lifetime.

His 4 for 30 in the first innings was not an outburst—it was a thesis.

Fuller lengths, subtle pace variations, attacking the stumps, and most importantly, the courage to bowl the ball that *doesn’t* turn on a turning wicket.

That is the mark of mastery.

Washington Sundar, Dhruv Jurel, Ravindra Jadeja—each fell because Harmer beat them in the mind before he beat them on the pitch.

Bavuma’s Resistance: A Half-Century Worth a Hundred

If Harmer dragged South Africa back into the match, Bavuma gave them the belief they could win it.

His 50—on a pitch that treated batting techniques like suggestions rather than rules—was a masterclass in stubbornness. More than the runs, it was the serenity: the sweep shot that returned as a conversation with fate, the forward presses that looked like acts of faith, the calm when everything around him frayed.

In the end, he was the only batter on either side who looked capable of playing old-fashioned Test innings.

The Collapse That Defined Everything

India needed 124.

They made 93.

Two of the most revealing numbers in recent Indian cricket.

Why India Lost From a Winnable Position

1. Tactical indecision

Axar Patel opening the bowling on the third morning was not a move—it was a confession of confusion.

Washington Sundar, selected as a third spinner, did not bowl a single over in the second innings.

That alone could fill a press conference.

2. Panic, disguised as proactive captaincy

   Pant cycled through bowlers like a man trying to guess a password.

   Fields changed without purpose.

   Reviews bordered on desperation.

3. A pitch that demanded clarity rewarded only one team

India’s spinners tried too much.

South Africa’s spinners tried enough.

4. Jansen and Harmer: Thunder and Thread

Jansen’s opening bursts exposed the pitch’s early-morning treachery.

Harmer exploited its spiritual uncertainty.

India had two world-class spinners, a third in the XI, and one of the best fast bowlers in history.

South Africa had one world-class fast bowler injured, two spinners, including one reborn, and a collective that understood their limitations.

Only one side used their resources fully.

The Pitch: Villain, Equaliser, or Revelation?

This strip at Eden Gardens will be debated for months.

It was unpredictable but not random.

It demanded courage but punished ambition.

It rewarded precision but offered no margin.

It was, in short, the perfect mirror.

India looked at it and saw their tactical inconsistencies.

South Africa looked at it and saw a chance to rewrite history.

And that may be the greatest irony: India wanted balanced pitches after last year’s New Zealand defeat.

Instead, they got the kind of surface that balanced the match so violently, it levelled them.

What This Test Really Means

This result does not tell us India are weak.

It tells us they are in transition.

It does not tell us South Africa are dominant.

It tells us they remember how to fight.

But above everything else, it tells us that Test cricket, when stripped of predictability and comfort, is still the most revealing format in sport. It exposes technique, temperament and tactical courage—all in a single session.

At Eden Gardens, it exposed two teams:

India, who must confront the gap between planning and execution.

South Africa, who rediscovered an identity built not on bravado but on craftsmanship.

Above all, it reminded us why we watch Test cricket:

Not for fairness.

Not for perfection.

But for the beauty of struggle.

In that sense, the match was not a shock.

It was a masterpiece.

Thank You

Faisal Caeasr