A Glimpse into the Future: Bangladesh’s Rising Stars from the U-19 World Cup

The recently concluded ICC Under-19 World Cup in Australia was a showcase of future cricketing talents from across the globe. Teams like India, South Africa, Australia, Sri Lanka, West Indies, and Pakistan brought to light some exciting young prospects, hinting at the bright futures that await them at the international stage. Bangladesh, too, unearthed a few gems who demanded attention—not just for their numbers but for their temperament and technique, qualities often found lacking in the country's senior cricketers.  

At the forefront of this emerging brigade are Anamul Haque, Litton Das, and Soumya Sarkar. These three cricketers displayed a level of maturity and skill that is rare in Bangladesh cricket’s youth, raising hopes that the nation's longstanding search for reliable top-order batsmen may finally be coming to an end. The performances of these young players were not just promising—they were statements, loud and clear, that they are ready to shoulder responsibilities in the next phase of Bangladesh cricket.  

Stars of the Campaign: Anamul, Litton, and Soumya  

Anamul Haque was the standout performer among the trio, leading the tournament’s run-scoring chart with 365 runs at an impressive average of 60.83 and a strike rate of 85.08. His tally included two centuries and a fifty—innings that not only earned wins for his team but also demonstrated his ability to rise to the occasion. What distinguished Anamul was his poise under pressure. He thrived on challenging tracks where the ball swung and demanded precise technique, conditions that have historically troubled even Bangladesh’s most seasoned batsmen.  

Litton Das was equally impressive, accumulating 262 runs at an average of 52.40, including a century and two fifties. His ability to adapt his game to different situations was remarkable. Litton played with confidence against the moving ball, both on the front and back foot, a rare sight among Bangladeshi batsmen accustomed to subcontinental conditions. He showed that he could occupy the crease for long periods, a quality desperately needed at the top of the order.  

Meanwhile, Soumya Sarkar—Litton’s opening partner—may not have enjoyed the same consistency but left an impression with his all-round contributions. His 73 in the quarterfinals against Australia’s formidable attack showcased his potential to thrive in high-pressure scenarios. Soumya’s additional value as a part-time bowler, picking up four wickets at an average of 21.25 and an economy rate of 5.79, hinted at the versatility that could make him an asset in the future.

A New Dawn for Bangladesh’s Batting Order  

The emergence of Anamul, Litton, and Soumya comes at a critical juncture for Bangladesh cricket. For years, the national team has relied heavily on the individual brilliance of players like Tamim Iqbal and Shakib Al Hasan, often without sufficient support from the rest of the batting order. Tamim, in particular, has long lacked a dependable opening partner, while the middle order still leans heavily on Shakib to rescue games. Litton’s ability to anchor the innings at the top could perfectly complement Tamim, and Soumya’s aggressive flair may make him an ideal candidate for the No. 3 spot. Anamul, with his solidity, could stabilize the middle order—offering Bangladesh much-needed depth and structure.  

Many might argue that these young players need time to mature before being thrown into the deep waters of international cricket. But in truth, their performances suggest otherwise. They are already equipped with the temperament necessary to thrive at the highest level. In a nation where Test cricket opportunities are limited, the best way to prepare these talents is to expose them early to the rigours of first-class and international competition.  

The current system cannot afford to wait for these players to ripen slowly—Bangladesh must act decisively to integrate them into the national framework. Mediocrity has been tolerated for far too long, with many long-serving players contributing little to the team’s progress. A bold step is needed to ensure these young stars do not fade into obscurity, as has tragically happened with others before them.  

The Lessons of the Past: Avoiding Another Lost Generation  

The biggest threat to these rising talents lies not in their abilities but in the management of the Bangladesh Cricket Board (BCB). The BCB has a troubling history of mishandling promising players, with names like Shahriar Nafees, Aftab Ahmed, and Alok Kapali standing as stark reminders of what happens when the potential is squandered. These players arrived with great fanfare, only to be mismanaged, misused, and ultimately forgotten—a testament to the lack of foresight within Bangladesh’s cricketing ecosystem.  

Young talents need more than just selection—they require mentorship, guidance, and a nurturing environment that balances development with exposure. Cricket boards like the BCB must emulate the strategies employed by figures such as *Sourav Ganguly* and *Imran Khan*, who took active roles in shaping the careers of their younger teammates. Ganguly’s encouragement of players like MS Dhoni and Yuvraj Singh, or Imran Khan’s mentorship of Wasim Akram and Waqar Younis, are examples of how great leaders cultivate talent. Bangladesh’s seniors must adopt a similar responsibility, not merely sharing tactical advice but also imparting lessons on professionalism and discipline.  

Guarding Against the Lure of T20 Leagues  

A critical challenge lies in balancing ambition with discipline. The lure of T20 leagues can often be overwhelming for young cricketers, promising instant financial rewards but threatening to stunt long-term growth. Anamul, Litton, and Soumya must not be allowed to drift into the comfort of short-form cricket too soon. The temptation of immediate success can derail careers that should otherwise flourish over the longer arc of Test cricket. The BCB must resist the urge to prioritize short-term gains over sustainable development, ensuring that these players grow into complete cricketers rather than mere entertainers.  

A Time for Bold Decisions  

The emergence of Anamul, Litton, and Soumya signals the dawn of a new chapter for Bangladesh cricket—one that promises hope, provided it is handled with care. These young players possess the technique, temperament, and hunger to succeed at the highest level, but they need a system that supports and nurtures their development. The BCB must break from the mistakes of the past and provide them with the tools and opportunities to thrive.  

This is not the time for hesitation. It is a time for bold decisions, and for embracing the future with confidence. Bangladesh has long waited for dependable top-order batsmen—now that they are here, it is up to the cricket board, senior players, and fans to ensure that these young stars are given the best possible chance to shine. The nation cannot afford another lost generation. The journey of Anamul, Litton, and Soumya must be one of steady growth, not fleeting promise. The future beckons—it is time to answer the call.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

 

Hashim Amla: The Custodian of Cricket's Sublime Art

The retirement of VVS Laxman has left an aching void in the hearts of cricket’s romantics. In the T20-dominated present, the art of batsmanship seems lost beneath a flood of brute force. The modern game often glorifies power—the sixes that clear the boundary in the blink of an eye—and dismisses subtlety in favour of spectacle. For those who cherish the quieter beauties of cricket, this age can feel disheartening. There are no more Mohammad Yousufs, no Laxmans, Azharuddins, or Zaheer Abbases—masters who painted their masterpieces stroke by stroke on the canvas of Test cricket. Yet, even in these times, the game still finds a way to produce a few poets with the bat. And none embodies that artistry better today than Hashim Amla.  

Amla stands as a living homage to cricket’s most delicate traditions, a reminder that elegance and grace still have a place in the game of power and pace. Like a painter wielding his brush, Amla’s bat creates not chaos but serenity, describing cricket in its purest, most beautiful form. He offers the kind of pleasure that only a few in history have provided—a batsman whose every movement seems to suspend time. Watching Amla bat is to experience an unbroken symphony, each stroke an immaculate note, soothing to the soul of the purist.  

Wristwork as Poetry: A Legacy in Motion  

Amla is perhaps the greatest exponent of wristwork in the modern game. His wrists operate with a finesse that evokes memories of Azharuddin, Yousuf, and Zaheer Abbas—masters of timing and placement. His ability to play the ball late, with a whisper of touch rather than a shout of power, is a purist’s delight. His strokes carry no violence, no arrogance; instead, they demoralize bowlers with quiet elegance. Whether piercing the covers from the back foot or delicately manoeuvring the ball past gully with a late cut, Amla paints the field with subtlety, each shot a quiet act of rebellion against the aggression so dominant today.  

The beauty of Amla’s batting lies not only in his precision but in his minimalism. He moves just enough—no more, no less. His off-drives, crafted with soft hands and upright posture, are strokes to savour, not devour. The occasional flicks to fine leg, seemingly executed without effort, speak of an almost spiritual control. In these moments, Amla channels the essence of the greats—he embodies a flavour of Azhar, a hint of Yousuf, and a glimpse of Zaheer. Indeed, there is something monumental about Amla, something Taj Mahal-like—a structure of permanence in a fleeting world.  

Evolution of a Craftsman: From Uncertainty to Mastery  

Like many great artists, Amla did not emerge fully formed. His debut was met with scepticism. His wide stance, restless bat, and fidgety movements raised doubts about his ability to survive at the highest level. Critics questioned whether his technique could withstand the scrutiny of international cricket. But Amla, much like a sculptor refining his craft, worked tirelessly on his game. Importantly, he did so without abandoning his essence. The wide stance remains, the bat still swings in the air, but the nervous movements have softened. What emerged from this evolution was a player who retained the elegance of his roots while eliminating unnecessary noise.  

Amla’s transformation is a testament to his discipline and artistry. His ability to play the ball late, especially against express pace and quality spin, speaks to a rare talent. He makes batting look effortless, though it is anything but. His presence at the crease exudes calm, a quiet assurance that the game is under control. Every stroke seems inevitable, as if predetermined by some higher force, and rarely does he indulge in anything ugly or extravagant. The longer he bats, the more inevitable his success feels—a reflection of mastery rather than luck.  

The Torchbearer of Elegance  

In an era increasingly intoxicated by brute strength, Amla offers a reminder of what cricket can still be—a stage for artistry, not just spectacle. His bat carries the legacy of Laxman, keeping alive a style that feels endangered but not extinct. Laxman may have retired, but in Amla, the spirit of effortless elegance lives on. His magic lies not just in the runs he scores but in the way he scores them—each stroke a tribute to cricket’s most cherished ideals.  

The world of cricket may never again see the likes of Laxman, Azhar, or Yousuf in abundance, but Amla stands as proof that the flame of artistry still flickers. His batting demands applause not for its brute force but for its beauty. It is time to savour every moment he occupies the crease, for each inning is a fleeting masterpiece, a gift to those who still believe that cricket is not just a game but an art form.  

The romantics of the game have lost Laxman, but in Hashim Amla, they have found a worthy successor—a maestro who continues to compose symphonies on the field, one elegant stroke at a time.

 

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

The Last Maestro: An Ode to VVS Laxman’s Artistry in Modern Cricket

In an era when T20 cricket thrives on adrenaline and brute force, the bat has become a bludgeon rather than a brush. The game increasingly celebrates raw power over finesse, driven by a lust for quick runs and dramatic moments. Batsmanship has evolved into a spectacle of violent stroke play, where elegance is a rare commodity. Yet, amid this rush, a few craftsmen, like Hashim Amla and Kumar Sangakkara, have kept alive the fading tradition of artistry. For over a decade, one man stood as a lone painter on the canvas of Test cricket — Vangipurapu Venkata Sai Laxman, whose magic lay not in power but in touch, timing, and grace.

Laxman’s bat didn’t strike the ball; it caressed it. The game, for him, wasn’t a battlefield of brute muscle but a delicate dance of rhythm and precision. Watching him was like witnessing an artist at work, each stroke a deliberate and precise brush on the white and green expanse. It was art for those who had the patience to look deeper—where beauty lay not just in boundaries but in the subtle angles, the gentle rolls of the wrists, and the silken glances past square leg. Laxman’s presence offered comfort; with him at the crease, even the most tense Indian dressing room could breathe easy.

Test Cricket's Twin Pillars: Laxman and Dravid  

India's emergence as a formidable force in Test cricket is deeply entwined with the exploits of two warriors — Rahul Dravid and VVS Laxman. Dravid was the wall, the unyielding structure upon which India built its defence. Laxman, on the other hand, was the architect who adorned that wall with poetry. Together, they formed a symbiotic relationship—Ram and Laxman—a duet that turned several impossible situations into triumphs. While Dravid’s grit held the line, it was Laxman’s creativity that breathed life into those victories, with Australia often at the receiving end of their combined artistry.

Yet Laxman was more than just an artist; he was a crisis manager of the highest order. He thrived in adversity, his finest innings coming when hope was fading, the scoreboard wobbling and the dressing room weighed down by silence. No task was more daunting than marshalling the tail-enders under pressure. Many a gifted batsman has faltered in such situations, but Laxman excelled in it. His ability to inspire and guide the lower order was unmatched — a skill few possess. In this, he found kinship with another master of crisis: Inzamam-ul-Haq.

The Greatest Hits: 281 and Beyond  

Laxman’s 281 at Kolkata against Australia will forever be etched in cricketing folklore, not merely for its sheer brilliance but for the way it turned the course of a series and Indian cricket’s self-belief. It was an innings that was epic in both scale and impact, the stuff of legends. Yet, to the true connoisseur, Laxman’s 96 in Durban holds a place of equal reverence. That knock played on a minefield of a pitch against a ruthless South African attack, epitomized his essence. In a game where his teammates struggled, Laxman seemed to exist on another plane, wielding his bat like a wand, conjuring a total that gave India a fighting chance.  

These innings weren’t merely about runs but lessons in temperament and composure. Laxman’s presence on the field was like a lighthouse for his team—a signal that no matter how stormy the waters, he would guide them to safety. His calm, unhurried demeanour amidst chaos was a reassurance in itself, an attribute increasingly rare in today’s cricket.  

The Unsung Hero  

Despite his heroics, Laxman was never revered with the fervour that accompanied the likes of Tendulkar or Dhoni. He was neither a ‘God’ nor a commercial icon. His greatness lay in the fact that he didn’t need the spotlight. He preferred to let his bat talk, quietly dismantling the opposition with a blend of class and cunning. In a way, his artistry was an act of rebellion against the growing obsession with speed and aggression. He didn’t merely score runs; he *composed* them—each innings a narrative, each shot a stanza in a poem that only the purists could fully appreciate. 

And yet, his mastery was undeniable. Even the prophets of doom who questioned his place in the team found themselves silenced by the elegance with which he rescued India from the jaws of defeat. Over time, sceptics became admirers, compelled to bow before the sheer artistry of a man who turned calamity into triumph with a flick of his wrists. 

Farewell to an Era  

With Laxman’s retirement, cricket loses more than just a player; it loses a part of its soul. The game, in its current form, is unlikely to produce another like him. The world without Laxman is a world without the mulberry leaf that, through time and patience, transforms into silk. His departure leaves a void that no power-hitter can fill, for Laxman represented something deeper—a reminder that cricket is as much about artistry as it is about winning.

Goodbye, VVS Laxman. You leave behind not just memories but masterpieces. The stadiums will no longer resonate with the sweet fragrance of your strokes, and cricket will feel a little less colourful without your magical wrists. Yet, in every cover drive and flick to fine leg, your spirit endures—a legacy not just of runs, but of elegance, grace, and quiet brilliance.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

Is the ECB Right? The Art of Leadership: Lessons from the KP-ECB Saga

A boss in any institution must function like a father—a figure who ensures not only success but also the security and comfort of his team. Leadership, especially in high-pressure environments, demands more than strategic vision; it requires emotional intelligence, patience, and the wisdom to manage personalities with care. Every organization, from businesses to sports teams, harbours egotistical individuals—those whose self-belief often defines their greatness but can also present challenges. The leader must handle these colourful personalities skillfully, channelling their energies to yield positive outcomes.  

The cricket board’s role is no different. For a cricketer to perform at his peak, the environment around him needs to nurture his talent and manage his ego. Cricket, by nature, attracts stars with strong personalities. In every era, the green fields have seen brilliant cricketers whose egos soared as high as their talents. The teams that thrived were those with boards and captains adept at managing these mavericks—turning their eccentricities into assets. Conversely, boards that failed to embrace and navigate these complexities often paid a steep price, watching their brightest talents slip away, leading to disaster.  

Unfortunately, it seems the England and Wales Cricket Board (ECB) has followed the latter course.  

The Pietersen Predicament  

Kevin Pietersen is arguably one of the finest cricketers England has ever produced—a player whose brilliance with the bat steered England through several turbulent waters. Over the years, he has crafted some of the most defining moments in English cricket, becoming synonymous with their purple patch in Test matches. His ability to rise in clutch moments and deliver decisive performances gave England the edge, even against the world’s best. But, like many stars, Pietersen carries a significant ego.  

Can we imagine an English batting lineup without KP? Hardly. The absence of such a player is akin to a car without an engine—a crucial component that powers the whole system. Yet, when England walked out to face South Africa in the decisive third Test at Lord’s, Pietersen was missing. The ECB had dropped him—not due to form or injury—but following allegations of sending derogatory texts about Andrew Strauss and coach Andy Flower to South African players during the Headingley Test. The decision came just after Pietersen released a video pledging his commitment to international cricket.  

Without delving into the details of the texts or the video, the ECB’s mishandling of the situation raises serious questions. Pietersen is a complex individual—self-centred, drawn to financial opportunities, and instinctive in his actions. But as cricket analyst Jarrod Kimber aptly noted, The ego, instinct, and selfishness of Pietersen are part of what makes him a great batsman. Indeed, some of the finest players in cricket history have been driven by their egos and selfish tendencies, and many top athletes operate based on instinct. These traits, while difficult to manage, are integral to their greatness.  

Failed Parenting: ECB’s Tactical Misstep  

The relationship between Pietersen and the ECB deteriorated over time, as the board struggled to manage their star player. While Pietersen acted like a difficult child, the ECB behaved more like a stepfather than a caring parent. Instead of addressing their differences discreetly, the board fed the media with internal discussions and conflicts, further alienating their star player. Pietersen, with all his flaws, felt betrayed by the very institution he had served. His demand for loyalty, however eccentric, was not entirely unjustified—he had every right to expect his employers to keep sensitive matters confidential.  

The ECB’s heavy-handedness exposed a lack of foresight. A smart board would have found ways to reconcile differences rather than making the issue public. Imposing harsh disciplinary measures was shortsighted—particularly for a player who had been instrumental in England’s rise to the top of the Test rankings. Managing top talent is not merely about enforcing discipline; it requires diplomacy, patience, and tact.  

History offers valuable lessons here. Imran Khan and Javed Miandad were two fiercely competitive personalities with contrasting temperaments. Yet, Imran harnessed Miandad’s fire to drive Pakistan’s success, never letting personal friction undermine the team’s goals. Similarly, Mike Brearley managed the volatile Ian Botham with remarkable acumen, ensuring that Botham’s brilliance shone through in crucial moments. As the saying goes, the cow that gives the best milk might also kick—but a skilled farmer knows how to handle it.  

In Pietersen’s case, the ECB needed to act as a father figure—someone who disciplines but also protects and corrects, but also nurtures. Their failure to do so reflects a lack of emotional intelligence and leadership. Andrew Strauss, as captain, and Andy Flower, as coach, could have played pivotal roles in resolving the conflict, but their involvement seemingly exacerbated the situation rather than easing it.  

A Cautionary Tale in Leadership  

The Pietersen saga is a cautionary tale of how not to manage star players. Cricket, like life, demands the management of egos, not the suppression of them. A board’s job is to create an environment where even the most difficult players can thrive. Pietersen may have acted selfishly, but the board’s job was to steer him back on course—not to cast him adrift.  

Ultimately, Pietersen’s talents far outweighed his challenges. Great organizations preserve and nurture their best assets, not discard them at the first sign of trouble. The ECB’s failure to manage Pietersen has cost them dearly—both on the field, where his absence left a gaping hole, and off it, where the public fallout damaged the board’s reputation.  

In retrospect, was the ECB right in its handling of Pietersen?  

The answer, unequivocally, is no. Great leadership lies not in eliminating difficult personalities but in embracing them, managing them with skill, and channelling their strengths for the collective good. By failing to do so, the ECB turned what could have been a manageable situation into a public debacle. In doing so, they lost not only one of their greatest players but also the respect of many fans and followers of the game.  

The lesson here is clear: whether in business, sports, or life, leaders must be as caring as they are shrewd—balancing discipline with compassion, and knowing that sometimes, the best way to lead is to parent. The best bosses, like the best captains, understand this subtle art. If only the ECB had understood it too.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

Gloomy Afternoon at Wembley: Should Brazil Persist With Mano Menezes?

On the hallowed turf of Wembley, where history often weighs heavy, Mexico achieved their most glorious footballing triumph by stunning Brazil to win Olympic gold. For a nation that once endured an 8-0 humiliation on this same ground in May 1961 against England’s finest, this victory was poetic redemption. Yet, as Mexico celebrated with an early goal that set the tone for the game, Brazil was left grappling with deeper questions about their footballing identity and future.

The Match: Mexican Spirit vs. Brazilian Fragility

Oribe Peralta’s brace—the first coming a mere 29 seconds into the match—epitomized Mexico’s tenacity and precision under coach Luis Fernando Tena. They capitalized on Brazil’s defensive lapses, showcased disciplined defending, and displayed a collective spirit that held firm even as Brazil mounted a late push.

Brazil’s response, a 91st-minute strike from Hulk, was too little, too late. Oscar’s missed header in the dying seconds symbolized not just the lost opportunity to force extra time but also Brazil’s larger struggle: converting talent into triumph.

This defeat marked Brazil's third loss in an Olympic final, following disappointments in 1984 (against France) and 1988 (against the Soviet Union). For a nation that prides itself on its footballing pedigree, the failure to secure Olympic gold—one of the few trophies missing from their illustrious cabinet—was a bitter pill to swallow.

Mano Menezes: The Architect of Decline?

The spotlight inevitably falls on Brazil’s coach, Mano Menezes, whose tenure has been marked by a failure to rebuild and reimagine a side brimming with talent. Appointed in the aftermath of Brazil’s disappointing 2010 World Cup campaign, Menezes inherited a team that was both ageing and stylistically stagnant under Dunga’s counterattacking philosophy. A fresh approach was needed—one that could harness Brazil’s attacking flair while adapting to the demands of modern football.

Yet, two years into his reign, Menezes has failed to deliver. Brazil’s performances under him have lacked cohesion, discipline, and the creative spark synonymous with their footballing heritage. The Neymar-led generation, touted as the country’s future, has struggled to adapt to the international stage, particularly against disciplined opponents who deny them the time and space they thrive on in domestic football.

The Challenges of Transition

The transition from Dunga’s counterattacking style to a more expansive, possession-based game has been anything but smooth. Adding to the complexity is Brazil’s economic boom, which has seen more of its top players remain in domestic leagues rather than pursuing careers in Europe. While this trend has pleased fans, it has exposed a critical flaw: the gap between domestic dominance and international competitiveness.

Players like Neymar, celebrated for their exploits in Brazil, have often been neutralized on the international stage. The frenetic pace and tactical discipline of global football contrast sharply with the open, attack-friendly nature of the Brazilian domestic game. Menezes has struggled to bridge this gap, and Brazil’s results have suffered as a consequence.

The Clock Ticks Towards 2014

With the World Cup looming in just two years, hosted on home soil, Brazil faces a pivotal decision: persist with Menezes or seek a visionary leader to guide them through this critical juncture. The stakes could not be higher. Winning the World Cup at home is not just an aspiration but a national expectation, one that demands a team capable of blending tactical discipline with the samba flair that defines Brazilian football.

Menezes’ inability to capitalize on the available talent raises serious doubts about his capacity to lead Brazil to glory in 2014. While transitions are rarely smooth, the lack of visible progress under his stewardship suggests that Brazil may be squandering a golden generation.

A Vision for the Future

What Brazil needs now is not merely a coach but a strategist—someone capable of instilling discipline without stifling creativity, someone who can mold Neymar and his peers into a cohesive unit ready to conquer the world. Persisting with Menezes, given his track record, would be a gamble fraught with risk.

In football, as in life, timing is everything. Brazil must act decisively, for the clock is ticking, and the world is watching.

Thank You 

Faisal Caesar