Navigating the tightrope: Akram Khan’s New Selection Committee and The Trials of Bangladeshi Cricket

In the ever-intense world of subcontinental cricket, where every decision invites scrutiny and every squad selection is a potential firestorm, the role of a selector is often more a curse than a calling. This is particularly true in Bangladesh, where cricket stirs the passions of a nation and selections spark endless debate. Amid this charged atmosphere, a new selection committee has been appointed—one helmed by the burly Akram Khan, with Habibul Bashar and Minhajul Abedin alongside him, each bringing a wealth of experience and prestige to a daunting task.  

Akram Khan, who led Bangladesh to their groundbreaking triumph in the 1997 ICC Trophy, embodies the early, hard-fought era of the nation’s cricket. Bashar’s tenure as captain marked the arrival of Bangladesh on the world stage, guiding them to unexpected victories over India and South Africa in the 2007 World Cup. Minhajul Abedin represents the quieter beginnings—an unsung hero from the days when Bangladesh was still finding its feet, including his stellar performance in the 1999 World Cup. Together, they form a selection panel brimming with insight, success, and the lived experience of Bangladesh’s evolution from a cricketing underdog to a recognized force.  

The Challenge of Selection in the Subcontinent  

However, even a high-profile panel such as this must navigate treacherous waters. In the subcontinent, the role of a selector is inherently thankless. A perfect combination exists only in hindsight; no matter the outcome, criticism is inevitable. Yet, the job must be done, and selectors must persevere in balancing team needs with long-term goals. The outgoing selection committee, led by Rafiqul Alam, managed this task admirably despite facing interference from the Bangladesh Cricket Board (BCB)—a recurring issue that looms over the new panel as well.  

In this environment, autonomy becomes the most valuable currency, but it is also the most elusive. The danger lies not only in public discontent but also in political meddling from both the BCB and external forces. Cricket in Bangladesh is not just a sport; it is interwoven with national pride, and that pride often becomes a battleground for political influence. Jamie Siddons, a former head coach, once warned of the destructive role of “petty politics” in Bangladeshi cricket. His words resonate even more strongly today, as selectors and coaches alike must fend off unwarranted interference that threatens to destabilize their efforts.

The issue is systemic. BCB chiefs are frequently appointed based on political affiliation rather than merit, mirroring the broader trend of Bangladesh’s institutions being compromised by partisanship. The fear is that if politics continues to infiltrate cricket, the consequences could be disastrous, jeopardizing the hard-won progress the nation has made on the field. Bangladesh’s cricketing renaissance has been fueled by discipline, unity, and clear leadership, and undermining these pillars would be tantamount to self-sabotage.  

Leveraging Experience: A New Approach to Selection

Despite these challenges, the composition of this selection committee inspires hope. Akram Khan and Minhajul Abedin, having been integral figures in Bangladesh cricket through the 1980s and 1990s, bring an intimate understanding of the domestic structure. Both men have witnessed the sport’s growth from grassroots levels and possess the nuanced eye needed to identify emerging talent. Their experience makes them uniquely qualified to harness the potential that exists in the domestic circuit, ensuring that promising players are not only selected but also developed with care.

While Akram and Abedin represent the growth phase of Bangladesh cricket, Habibul Bashar personifies its golden moments. His tenure as captain marked the beginning of a new era—a period when Bangladesh, under the guidance of coach Dav Whatmore, began to believe in itself as a competitive unit. Their partnership forged a winning mentality, as the team pulled off improbable victories and silenced skeptics. Bashar’s charismatic touch now lends an added dimension to the selection panel, ensuring that their decisions are guided not just by numbers but by an understanding of the game’s psychological demands.  

Autonomy and Collaboration: A New Model for Success

To succeed, this committee must tread a fine line—balancing tradition with innovation, and independence with collaboration. The selectors will need to work closely with both the captain and the head coach, acknowledging that it is these two figures who ultimately manage the dynamics on the field. A successful selection process is not merely about assembling the most talented individuals but about crafting a cohesive unit that aligns with the captain’s strategy and the coach’s vision.  

The advantage this committee has is that all three members are former players, intimately familiar with the pressures of international cricket. They understand that while selectors choose the players, it is the captain and coach who mould them into a team. This insight, if used wisely, can foster a more holistic selection process, where decisions are based not only on talent but also on team chemistry and long-term goals.  

The Road Ahead: Safeguarding Cricket’s Future in Bangladesh  

The biggest threat to this committee’s success, however, remains external interference. Cricket is Bangladesh’s greatest asset—a source of national pride and international recognition. Yet, the same passion that elevates the game also invites manipulation. Politicians from both ruling and opposition parties have a troubling history of inserting themselves into cricket administration, threatening to erode the game’s integrity. If Bangladesh cricket is to sustain its upward trajectory, it must protect itself from these political entanglements.  

Ultimately, the success of this selection committee will depend not only on the quality of its decisions but also on the freedom it is given to operate. Akram Khan, Habibul Bashar, and Minhajul Abedin bring with them decades of experience and a shared love for the game. If they are allowed to work without interference, they have the potential to elevate Bangladesh cricket to new heights. But if their efforts are undermined by politics, the progress achieved over the past two decades risks being undone.  

This selection committee represents more than just three former captains—it represents a moment of possibility for Bangladesh cricket. It embodies the hope that, with the right leadership, cricket can rise above the chaos of politics and become a beacon of national pride. The coming years will test the resolve of both the selectors and the board. But if managed well, this could mark the beginning of a new chapter—one where Bangladesh cricket not only survives but thrives, guided by experience, free from interference, and driven by a shared dream of excellence.  

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

The Unfolding Tale of Pakistan’s Pace-Bowling Factory: Junaid Khan

The soil of Pakistan is often likened to a cradle of fast-bowling brilliance, nurturing one prodigy after another. From the bustling streets of Lahore to the rugged terrains of Peshawar and the Khyber Pass, fast bowlers seem to spring from every corner, each carrying the hopes of becoming the next heir to a storied lineage. Imran Khan’s ferocity, Wasim Akram’s artistry, Waqar Younis’s toe-crushing pace—all these legends cast long shadows, yet new talents consistently emerge from beneath them, ready to uphold the legacy.

The arrival of Mohammad Amir seemed to herald a new golden age, as he and Mohammad Asif briefly mesmerized the cricketing world with their mastery of seam and swing. But just as quickly as they rose, controversy struck, leaving a void in Pakistan’s fast-bowling arsenal. Yet Pakistan’s fast-bowling machine has always been resilient, capable of producing replacements almost as if by instinct. Into this arena stepped Junaid Khan, a left-arm pacer whose raw talent and discipline have made him one of Pakistan’s most intriguing prospects since Amir’s fall from grace.  

The Craftsmanship of a Southpaw

Junaid Khan draws instant comparisons with some of Pakistan’s best. If Amir was poetry in motion, with an ethereal ability to make the ball sing through the air, Junaid presents a more workmanlike, yet effective, persona on the field. Watching him bowl evokes shades of Umar Gul—a smooth run-up, understated but efficient, hinting at an almost mechanical rhythm. However, Junaid’s approach lacks the explosive burst of energy that marked Gul’s bowling at his peak, which may explain why Junaid struggles at times to generate the same hostility and venom.

Yet what Junaid lacks in flair, he compensates for with precision. He consistently finds the ideal length, keeping batsmen in two minds and exploiting the smallest of margins. Like Amir before him, Junaid uses the seam with a craftsman’s touch, coaxing movement off the pitch that tests the mettle of even the most seasoned batters. His control is his most valuable asset—he doesn’t merely bowl; he constructs spells with purpose, working patiently toward breakthroughs.  

Fire and Focus: An Antidote to Inconsistency

A quality that sets Junaid apart from many of his contemporaries is his hunger. There is an unmistakable fire in his performances, an inner drive to extract every ounce of potential from his abilities. Over the years, Pakistani cricket has occasionally been marred by inconsistency and lapses in discipline among its players. But Junaid presents a different mould—focused, committed, and unflinching in his ambition to be the best. His body language on the field speaks volumes: this is a bowler who is not content with mere flashes of brilliance but strives for sustained excellence.  

In this regard, Junaid’s rise feels both timely and necessary. While Pakistan’s fast-bowling history is studded with natural talents—bowlers who operated on instinct and raw ability—Junaid brings a refreshing mix of discipline and method. He may not yet have the aura of an Akram or the immediate impact of an Amir, but his attitude suggests that greatness is within his grasp, waiting to be shaped by experience and opportunity.

A Work in Progress: The Path to Refinement

Junaid Khan’s journey offers promise but also underscores the need for nurturing raw talent. Unlike some of Pakistan’s most gifted bowlers, who arrived on the scene with a complete arsenal of skills, Junaid’s game appears to be a work in progress. He possesses the essential tools—accuracy, control, and a willingness to learn—but needs refinement to fully unlock his potential. His run-up could benefit from greater momentum to help him generate a sharper pace and bounce, an adjustment that could elevate him from good to great.

In many ways, Junaid represents the essence of Pakistan’s cricketing ethos: raw talent waiting to be honed. With the right mentorship and conditioning, he could grow into a formidable bowler capable of filling the void left by Amir and joining the pantheon of Pakistan’s fast-bowling greats. It is this potential, this tantalizing glimpse of what might be, that makes Junaid such a fascinating figure to follow.  

The Unyielding Legacy of Pakistani Pacers

Pakistan’s ability to continually produce fast bowlers is no accident. It reflects a deep-rooted tradition that values pace and aggression, a tradition passed down from legends like Imran Khan and Wasim Akram. But it also speaks to the country’s unique cricketing culture—a culture that thrives on unpredictability, risk-taking, and the audacity to challenge the odds. Junaid Khan stands at the intersection of this legacy and the future, embodying both the promise and the challenges of being a Pakistani pacer in a fiercely competitive world.

While Junaid may not yet possess the once-in-a-generation brilliance that defined his predecessors, his combination of skill, focus, and temperament positions him as a bowler worth watching. If Pakistan’s history teaches us anything, it is that greatness in fast bowling often emerges not just from raw ability but from the will to persevere and evolve.  

In Junaid Khan, Pakistan has found more than just a replacement for Amir—it has found a symbol of continuity, a reminder that in Pakistan, fast bowlers don’t merely fade away; they give way to the next in line, waiting in the wings, ready to make the world take notice. And as Junaid’s journey unfolds, the cricketing world would do well to keep an eye on him, for in Pakistan, fast bowlers are not just players—they are torchbearers of a tradition that refuses to die.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

The Six that Shook Cricketing World: Javed Miandad’s Last Ball Heroics

 

Cricket is no stranger to iconic moments, but few linger in collective memory like Javed Miandad’s game-winning six off the final ball of the Austral-Asia Cup final in April 1986. A quarter-century on, the event remains etched in the minds of those who witnessed it—either from the stands in Sharjah or glued to television screens across the subcontinent. In that one shot, Miandad not only scripted a personal legacy but also altered the psychological balance between two cricketing giants—Pakistan and India—for years to come.

The atmosphere at Sharjah that day was electric, crackling with partisan energy. On one side, a sea of green, ready to erupt in celebration; on the other, Indian supporters braced with hope, every run and wicket tightening the grip on their nerves. Pakistan needed three runs to win off the final delivery, while India needed to defend with clinical precision or dismiss the last man. Neither side could afford even the smallest mistake.  

The Stage Was Set for Drama

As the match hung on a knife’s edge, the young Chetan Sharma was given the responsibility of bowling the most consequential ball of his career. His captain, Kapil Dev, did his best to calm the fast bowler, meticulously arranging the field to block boundaries. Miandad, known for his unorthodox brilliance, surveyed the field like a master strategist—counting players, assessing gaps, and silently preparing for the decisive moment. In these subtle movements, one could see Miandad’s cricketing philosophy in action: strategy was as important as skill, and patience could dismantle even the tightest of defences.

True to form, Miandad did not adhere to the conventional coaching manual. He stood in his characteristically open stance, exuding both defiance and anticipation. When Chetan Sharma ran in to bowl, a nation held its breath—and then exhaled in shock.

The Defining Shot

What followed was not just a full toss; it was a fateful error that would echo through time. Miandad, sensing the opportunity with the reflexes of a predator, pounced on the delivery. With a decisive flick of his wrists, he launched the ball into the night sky, sending it soaring over midwicket. For a brief moment, time seemed to freeze as the crowd watched the ball disappear beyond the boundary. Then, in an explosion of joy, the Pakistani supporters erupted, waving flags furiously in disbelief and ecstasy.

Even Miandad’s teammates needed a few seconds to register the victory. Imran Khan, whose usual calm demeanour cracked under the match’s tension, finally allowed himself a smile. Abdul Qadir danced with unrestrained joy, and the rest of the team followed suit, racing onto the field amidst the bedlam of pitch invasions and fan celebrations. India’s hopes, which had flickered brightly for most of the match, were extinguished in an instant.  

A Masterclass in Batsmanship

Miandad’s innings that day was a lesson in tactical brilliance. When he arrived at the crease, Pakistan was reeling at 39 for two. At 110 for four, with half the overs already gone, the chase seemed doomed. Yet Miandad brought the full weight of his experience and cunning into play, transforming the innings from one of survival to a masterpiece of strategy. 

He ran aggressively between the wickets, turning ones into twos, and placed the ball expertly into gaps, accumulating runs without taking unnecessary risks. This was not a display of power hitting but an exhibition of methodical calculation. As the asking rate climbed to an intimidating eight runs per over, Miandad found ways to chip away at the target. His partnership with Abdul Qadir, who was promoted to counter India’s left-arm spinners, was another shrewd decision—one that briefly destabilized the Indian attack.

The final three overs brought the match to its dramatic crescendo. Miandad smashed a six off Madan Lal to reach his century, but the pressure was relentless. A run-out ended Wasim Akram’s stay at the crease, and Zulqarnain's reckless shot saw him bowled by Sharma. With every passing ball, the tension mounted. The equation boiled down to eight runs needed from the last over—and then, to three from the final delivery.

The Anatomy of Pressure  

It was not just the physical act of hitting the six that defined Miandad’s legacy—it was how he handled the moment. Where others would have wilted, Miandad thrived. His calm under pressure was remarkable, even as Indian fielders scrambled desperately to deny him. The near run-out of Tauseef Ahmed added a twist of fate to the drama, as Azharuddin’s wayward throw gave Miandad the lifeline he needed to face the final ball. With the field packed on the leg side, every Indian fielder poised like a coiled spring, Chetan Sharma bowled—and Miandad struck.  

The repercussions of that moment rippled beyond the scoreboard. Miandad’s six was more than a victory—it was a psychological blow that India struggled to recover from for years. It cemented Miandad’s reputation as one of the game’s sharpest minds, capable of transforming matches through sheer willpower and tactical acumen. For Pakistan, the win symbolized more than just a trophy; it became a touchstone for belief, a triumph that would inspire future generations.

A Tale of Triumph and Tragedy

If Miandad’s six immortalized him, it did the opposite for Chetan Sharma, who became an enduring symbol of heartbreak. In cricket, as in life, moments of greatness often stand shoulder-to-shoulder with moments of despair. Sharma’s full toss will forever be remembered, not as a routine mistake, but as a decisive misstep that altered the trajectory of an entire game—and perhaps, a rivalry.

Looking back, the Austral-Asia Cup final was not just a contest between two teams; it was a study in contrasts. It was a tale of experience versus youth, of poise under pressure versus crumbling nerves, of cunning versus convention. Above all, it was a reminder that cricket, in its essence, is a game of moments—moments that can transcend time, becoming part of folklore.

In the end, Miandad’s six remains a symbol of brilliance that still echoes across the Indian subcontinent. It was a stroke that did more than win a game; it elevated Miandad to cricketing immortality. And though Chetan Sharma bore the brunt of that one ball for years to come, his role in that unforgettable match ensures that his name, too, will always be part of cricket’s most cherished memories. 

The scoreboard may have shown Pakistan vs. India, but on that fateful night in Sharjah, it was Javed Miandad against the world—and Miandad won.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

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 

The Coveted Prize: A Reflection on India’s World Cup Triumph

 

The ICC World Cup trophy symbolizes more than just cricketing dominance—it stands as an elusive muse that inspires desire yet favours only the most exceptional suitors. Many nations yearn for her embrace, but only a few possess the intelligence, courage, and charisma to win her hand. To grasp such a prize is not merely an act of strength but a dance of strategy, resilience, and allure.  

It was only fitting, then, that Team India succeeded in this pursuit, for they embodied every quality needed to win cricket’s most coveted maiden. Their blend of tactical brilliance, raw fearlessness, and undeniable star power made them worthy of the highest accolade. And in this courtship, who better than Sachin Tendulkar—India’s cricketing demigod—to carry the torch?  

On a balmy Saturday night in Mumbai, Tendulkar’s career reached its long-anticipated zenith. The World Cup was not just another feather in his already ornate cap—it was the ultimate affirmation, a poetic culmination of his decades-long journey. To have finished without this triumph would have felt like an incomplete epic, a narrative robbed of its rightful climax.  

The moment the trophy met Tendulkar’s hands was pure serendipity, as though fate had paused in reverence. Cameras erupted in a symphony of flashes, illuminating the night like starlight captured on Earth. This was not just a sporting milestone but a moment transcending the game—a union years in the making. Tendulkar and the World Cup, it seemed, were destined to find each other, their bond sealed as if ordained by celestial decree.  

As the World Cup nestled securely in his arms, the image crystallized in the collective memory of a billion hearts—a dream long cherished, now fulfilled. His teammates had promised to win it for him, knowing that nothing less would suffice for the maestro who had given so much to the game. This was more than a victory; it was an offering of gratitude, a tribute to the tireless pursuit of excellence.  

This victory felt like the last piece of a grand puzzle finally falling into place, an act of poetic justice. It crowned not just a team but a nation’s enduring hope, transforming the weight of expectation into boundless joy. For India, this was more than a trophy—it was redemption, vindication, and the embodiment of a dream nurtured for generations.  

In that triumphant moment, Tendulkar's story became a fairy tale complete at last. A romantic cricketing odyssey had found its perfect conclusion, and the hero, having conquered all, would now rest in the annals of history—fulfilled, celebrated, and forever revered.  

And indeed, how fitting it is: Cricket’s greatest son has finally secured his place among immortals, cradling the trophy not just as a champion but as a legend who lived his dream to the fullest.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar