The Measured Exit of Jacques Kallis: A Study in Grace and Timing

Jacques Kallis, the colossus of South African cricket, chose to end his illustrious Test career with a timing that surprised many. For a player whose steadfastness seemed eternal, the decision to step away felt almost incongruous with his reputation for resilience and endurance. Yet, just past his 38th birthday, Kallis demonstrated a rare clarity of purpose, recognizing that even the most remarkable powers are finite. 

In theory, Kallis could have continued. For nearly two decades, he had been the bedrock of South African cricket—a figure so indispensable that no selector would dare suggest his time was up. But Kallis’s decision to leave on his terms, rather than allowing his legacy to be eroded by diminishing returns, reflected a self-awareness that often eludes even the greatest athletes. 

A Singular Life in Cricket 

Kallis’s life has been one with cricket, a seamless blend of vocation and avocation. His temperament—gentle, unassuming, and unfailingly diligent—made him ideally suited to the sport's relentless demands. Unlike those who chafe at the itinerant lifestyle of international cricket, Kallis embraced its rhythm without complaint. He approached the game with the quiet efficiency of a craftsman, more akin to a meticulous clerk than a global superstar. 

Fittingly, his farewell unfolded with minimal fanfare. In Durban, where his Test journey began in 1995, Kallis stood at 78 not out in South Africa’s reply to India’s 334. A 45th Test century loomed on the horizon, yet the occasion lacked the grandiosity of Sachin Tendulkar’s orchestrated farewell two months earlier. While Tendulkar’s departure was a festival of adulation, Kallis’s exit was characteristically understated—a reflection of his career-long preference for substance over spectacle. 

A Legacy of Quiet Greatness 

Kallis’s achievements are staggering: 13,174 Test runs at an average of 55.12, 292 wickets at 32.53, and 199 catches. Only three players have amassed more runs, none with a higher average. His 292 wickets place him among the game’s elite all-rounders, and his slip-fielding was a masterclass in anticipation and technique. Yet, for all his statistical preeminence, Kallis has often been undervalued, his greatness cloaked in a veneer of effortlessness. 

Unlike Tendulkar, whose artistry captivated millions, or a Brian Lara, whose flair bordered on the theatrical, Kallis exuded a quiet inevitability. His cover drive was effective rather than poetic, his medium-paced swing was steady rather than devastating, and his slip catches were precise rather than spectacular. He rarely seized a game by the scruff of its neck but instead exerted a steady, unyielding influence. In the 44 Tests where he scored a century, South Africa lost only three—a testament to his ability to anchor his team’s fortunes. 

The Art of Knowing When to Leave 

Kallis’s decision to retire from Tests while pursuing one-day cricket reflects a pragmatic understanding of his evolving capabilities. His recent struggles—22 innings without a century and six lbw dismissals in his last seven innings—signalled that his once-unerring technique was faltering. Unlike many of his contemporaries, Kallis chose to act before the decline became irrevocable. 

In this, he joins a select group of athletes who have exited with dignity intact. Graeme Swann, for instance, faced criticism for retiring mid-series, yet his decision was rooted in the recognition that he could no longer meet the game’s demands. Conversely, Roger Federer’s continued pursuit of tennis glory, despite whispers of decline, underscores a different motivation: love for the game itself. 

A Farewell Without Frills 

Kallis was never destined for captaincy, lacking the tactical acumen or charisma of a leader. Yet as a teammate, he was invaluable—a paragon of reliability and dedication. His departure leaves a void not easily filled, for players of his calibre and character are rare. 

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

In time, Kallis’s legacy will likely be reassessed, his understated brilliance appreciated more fully in retrospect. For now, cricket bids farewell to one of its most complete cricketers—a man who left the crease not with a roar but with the quiet grace that defined his career. 

 

The Enduring Drama of Test Cricket: Johannesburg’s Epic Draw

In the pantheon of sports, Test cricket occupies a unique place. It is not merely a contest of skill but a cerebral dance, an enduring struggle against time, conditions, and the human spirit. The recent Test match at the Wanderers in Johannesburg epitomized this essence, offering a narrative of grit, resilience, and the haunting allure of the "what if." 

This match was no manufactured spectacle. It stood in stark contrast to the glittering façade of the shorter formats, where boundaries flow effortlessly, and drama is sometimes orchestrated for effect. Here, every moment felt raw and unscripted. A 35-year-old bowler laboured through relentless eight-over spells, throwing his body around to save a single. A batsman under scrutiny, nursing a painful injury between his thumb and index finger, battled through 50 overs, his agony evident with every ball he faced. Another bowler, plagued by a toothache, emerged with the bat, embodying the spirit of a team refusing to concede. 

This was no ordinary game; it was a drama unfurling over five days, culminating in a breathtaking draw. Time, so often taken for granted, became a living, breathing entity—a protagonist dictating every decision. 

The Tug-of-War of Strategies 

Both India and South Africa flirted with the precipice of victory, only to be reeled back into the embrace of a draw. On the fourth morning, India sought to neutralize South Africa’s chances by occupying the crease, creating what appeared to be a lull. It was, in truth, a calculated manoeuvre to gain control of the ticking clock. Later, as the situation evolved, the same team rushed through overs, sensing an opportunity to seize the game. By the final afternoon, the tempo shifted again, with India cautiously delaying, wary of letting victory slip into the hands of their opponents. 

This constant recalibration of strategy—where every session demands a new plan and every passage of play rewrites the possibilities—is the soul of Test cricket. 

Heroes in the Crucible 

Faf du Plessis became the heart of South Africa’s defiance. Walking in ahead of the legendary Jacques Kallis, burdened with the task of salvaging an improbable result, he batted with unyielding resolve. The injury to his thumb, the painkillers, the repeated removal of his bottom hand from the handle—every action was a testament to his determination. His innings oscillated between hope and despair, eventually ending with a run-out, a cruel twist in his valiant effort. 

For India, Virat Kohli embodied the duality of Test cricket. He flirted with history, nearly becoming the first visitor to score twin centuries at the Wanderers. On the field, he endured the emotional rollercoaster of missed chances, exceptional deliveries, and the Herculean efforts of his team. Zaheer Khan, diving and backing up throws even after countless overs, encapsulated the tenacity of a side that had been written off before the series began. 

The Final Gambit 

As the match reached its denouement, both captains were thrust into the gambler's dilemma. With South Africa 16 runs away from a historic win and India just three wickets shy of victory, MS Dhoni and Graeme Smith were left pondering the risks. Dhoni might have attacked with a packed slip cordon. Smith might have encouraged his tailenders to gamble for glory. 

But the weight of the preceding four-and-a-half days bore down heavily. Bowlers on both sides had bowled nearly 50 overs each. The psychological and physical toll of losing a match so closely contested loomed large. And so, pragmatism prevailed. 

The Beauty of Uncertainty 

This match underscored the unmatched allure of Test cricket—the very real possibility of a draw and the mental chess that ensues. It is a format where victory is not the sole objective, where saving a game can be as heroic as winning it. South Africa, had they pursued victory recklessly, might have crumbled. Conversely, their measured approach ensured they walked away with their heads held high, albeit with a bittersweet aftertaste. 

For the players and fans alike, the lingering question remains: what if? What if South Africa had taken the singles and gambled in the final overs? What if Dhoni had gone all in with an attacking field? These are the uncertainties that make Test cricket not just a sport but a profound human drama. 

In the end, there was no definitive winner, only two teams that pushed themselves to the brink and emerged with moral victories. For the true connoisseur, this match was a masterpiece, a reminder of why Test cricket remains unparalleled in its ability to captivate and inspire. 

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

Sachin Tendulkar: The Sunset of a Cricketing Legend

It is over.  

Today, I witnessed the setting of one of cricket’s most obedient students. A man who carried the legacy of past greats with an almost sacred sense of responsibility and honour. Yet, this is not a sunset to celebrate. It is not an evening for fireworks and festivities, for what I witnessed was the end of an era—the era of *Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar.

For lovers of Test cricket, the departure of a classical maestro is never a joyous occasion. The exit of an iconic figure leaves behind a void, a silence, as though the orchestra has ceased mid-symphony.  

My relationship with Tendulkar goes back to 1990—a complicated bond woven from admiration, irritation, and grudging respect. I have disliked him. I have admired him. And, at times, I have bowed silently to his genius. I saw him evolve from a prodigious child into one of cricket’s most influential figures. At his best, he reminded me of the regal swagger of Viv Richards and the serene mastery of Sunil Gavaskar. Yet, I was often infuriated by the media frenzy that surrounded him. The deification of Tendulkar was something I could never accept.  

No, I still do not place him above The Don, Sobers or Viv Richards. I refuse to call him the “God of Cricket.”  

But what I cannot deny is this: Tendulkar redefined cricketing numbers, tore down records, and carried the hopes of a billion people every time he walked to the crease. His presence did not just inspire; it compelled. It was as if time itself paused, hypnotized by his mastery, commanding the world to witness his batting spectacle. For 24 years, the rhythm of Tendulkar’s game became the heartbeat of Indian cricket—and, in many ways, of cricket worldwide.  

He was not just among the greats; he was among the greatest.  

I savoured the elegance of his straight drives, the poise of his cover drives, and the power with which he dismantled bowling attacks. Tendulkar’s back-foot drives through point and backward point were poetry in motion. There are few indulgences worth sacrificing, but I would have missed a date with the most beautiful woman alive just to watch him unfurl those strokes.  

Cricket fans like me carry endless stories with this man.  

Tendulkar was not just a cricketer—he was a phenomenon, a gift from the heavens, whose craft provided solace amid the chaos of life. Few athletes in history have carried the weight of a nation’s hopes like he did. His batting was not merely a spectacle; it was a source of collective healing, a shared escape from the everyday anxieties of existence.  

With Tendulkar’s retirement, the world of Test cricket is undeniably poorer. His departure marks not just the end of a career, but the end of an era—a farewell to a form of batting that blended grace with grit, artistry with precision.  

Thank you, Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar, for two decades of wonder. Thank you for the memories that will live far beyond your playing days.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

Bangladesh's Resurgence: The Rise of the Tigers and the Dawn of a New Era

The last ball had been delivered. McClenaghan charged in with a short-pitched delivery, and Sohag Gazi sent it soaring over the slips with a deft uppercut that raced to the boundary. The crowd at Fatullah Stadium, teetering on the edge of their seats, erupted in ecstatic applause. Bangladesh had done the unthinkable—they had whitewashed New Zealand 3-0. The “Banglawash” was complete. As waves of euphoria rippled through the stadium and into the heart of the nation, it was a rare, poignant moment in Bangladeshi cricket—a victory to savour, a triumph to remember.

Few dared to dream of such an outcome at the outset of the series, especially given the odds stacked against Bangladesh. New Zealand had set a daunting 300-plus target in the final ODI, a score that would unnerve most teams. Bangladesh, though improving, were not traditionally known for chasing down such totals, especially against higher-ranked teams. Yet, a shift had been taking place—a silent but profound transformation rooted in self-belief. In recent years, this Bangladesh side had shown glimpses of defiance and grit, but now they were starting to finish the job. This was the second consecutive “Banglawash” they’d inflicted on New Zealand, a testament to a new mentality, a refusal to go down without a fight.

This transformation was all the more remarkable in light of Bangladesh’s challenges. Just before the ODI series began, Shakib Al Hasan, Bangladesh’s star all-rounder and a linchpin in their 4-0 series win over New Zealand in 2010, was sidelined by dengue fever. His absence raised the all-too-familiar question: Could Bangladesh pull through without their talisman? In the past, a missing star often spelt trouble for the Tigers. However, the team’s bench strength was beginning to look different. Emerging players were stepping up, bridging the gaps and proving their mettle on the field.

Naeem Islam filled Shakib's role with calm, clinical precision. When Tamim Iqbal was unavailable for the final ODI, young guns Shamsur Rahman and Ziaur Rahman rose to the occasion, ensuring that Bangladesh’s momentum remained undeterred. This newfound resilience was refreshing. Where Bangladesh once struggled to maintain composure in high-stakes matches, this group exhibited an unfamiliar steadiness. 

Central to this evolution was skipper Mushfiqur Rahim. Unwavering under pressure and willing to throw young players into crucial situations, Mushfiqur embodied the spirit of a new Bangladesh—determined, strategic, and unafraid. His calculated risks paid off time and again during the series. From opening the bowling with Sohag Gazi to trusting Mominul Haque’s occasional spin at key moments to backing Rubel Hossain’s firepower against Corey Anderson in the first ODI, Mushfiqur’s moves revealed an astute cricketing mind at work.

Mushfiqur’s tactical acumen shone in his field placements and timing. Recognizing the flow of the game, he adjusted fielders to choke the scoring rate and leveraged his bowlers’ strengths against the Kiwis. These decisions showcased a captain with a shrewd eye and a patient understanding of the game. But as with any team on the rise, the real test lies ahead. Challenges abroad will be fiercer, the margins thinner, and the pressures manifold. In these unfamiliar arenas, Mushfiqur’s character, and that of his young Tigers, will be tested.

For now, though, Bangladesh rejoiced in the moment. In Fatullah, as cheers echoed and flags waved, the nation saw a new vigour, a pride rekindled in their team. The Tigers had made their statement—undaunted, undeterred, and ever determined to grow stronger.

 

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

Embracing Resilience: Bangladesh's Test Evolution Amidst Unfinished Business

The final day of the second Test match between Bangladesh and New Zealand was primed for an enthralling contest. With a series win within reach, Bangladesh seemed ready to press for victory. However, rain intervened, washing away the final day and leaving fans disappointed as the match—and the two-Test series—concluded in a draw. Frustrated fans lamented the untimely downpour, seeing it as a lost opportunity rather than a reprieve. This moment reflects a noticeable shift: the expectations of Bangladesh’s cricket supporters are evolving, mirroring the growth of the national team itself.

In recent years, Bangladesh’s progress in limited-overs cricket has been clear, with impressive performances since 2012 propelling them toward becoming a competitive side. Yet, in Test cricket, they remained underachievers, often crumbling under the demands of the five-day format. They would show flashes of potential, only to collapse in a manner that reignited doubts about their capacity for the game’s longest format. However, this series against New Zealand marks a slow but undeniable shift—Bangladesh is beginning to learn the rhythm and discipline of Test cricket.

Historically, Bangladesh’s Test batting has suffered from lapses in discipline. Quick collapses followed initial breakthroughs, and their batsmen often struggled against daunting totals. Yet, this year, a new resilience has emerged, evident in their performances in Galle, Chittagong, and Dhaka. These glimpses of grit suggest that Bangladesh’s Test squad is beginning to adapt to the rigours of five-day matches, embracing the patience and tactical depth required for success.

The first Test in Chittagong set the tone, with New Zealand’s tail producing a substantial total that would have rattled previous Bangladeshi line-ups. Bangladesh’s openers departed cheaply, leaving them at a disadvantage. But instead of folding, the middle order fought back, securing a lead in the first innings and eventually holding out for a draw. This composure carried over to the second Test in Mirpur, where Bangladeshi batsmen demonstrated not only determination but restraint. Past teams would often succumb to rash shots, but here, discipline prevailed, signaling a promising development.

Bangladesh’s 0-0 draw holds significance beyond the scoreboard. Their resilience and tenacity were remarkable, and perhaps the most valuable takeaway was the emergence of Mominul Haque. Mominul has claimed the critical number-four position with a blend of skill, calmness, and maturity that belies his years. In both matches, his fearless approach became a source of reassurance for his teammates. His contributions fortified the middle order, and in doing so, he instilled belief across the squad. Bangladesh’s consistency throughout the series, a rarity in their Test history, demonstrates that they are slowly breaking free from the “ghost of inconsistency” that has plagued them for years.

Though their opportunities to play Test cricket remain limited, and they continue to contend with obstacles on and off the field, Bangladesh’s performance against New Zealand deserves recognition. It wasn’t merely a routine series but a true contest—an exchange of equal grit and skill, made possible by Bangladesh’s newfound resolve.

So, while rain robbed fans of a conclusive result, it couldn’t dampen the spirit and potential Bangladesh displayed. This series marked a vital step forward—a testament to their growth in the Test format, and a harbinger of the progress to come.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

Unleashing Potential: Sohag Gazi's Historic Performance Marks a New Era for Bangladesh Cricket

Corey Anderson, New Zealand's left-arm medium pacer, raised a spirited appeal for leg-before against Mominul Haque. When the umpire’s finger rose, it signalled the end of one of Bangladesh’s finest Test innings, as well as an inspiring 121-run stand between Mominul and Mushfiqur Rahim. The very next over, Doug Bracewell delivered a fearsome short ball to Mushfiqur, and the Bangladeshi captain had no answer. The quick wickets brought back memories of familiar collapses, the kind that have too often defined Bangladesh’s Test innings. Nasir Hossain, renowned for his calculated aggression, was left to continue his charge—but he needed someone with equal resolve to see him through.

In past Tests, Mahmudullah often fulfilled this role, coming in at number seven or eight, stabilizing partnerships with careful strike rotation and flashes of aggression. Typically, Bangladesh selected a specialist batsman at number eight, adding depth to their lineup. But in the Chittagong Test, the team made a bold move: Mahmudullah was left out, and they entrusted all-rounder Sohag Gazi with the responsibility. Although Gazi’s bowling had earned him his international reputation, his domestic batting prowess was well known. It was a test of his mettle, and what followed was nothing short of extraordinary.

The next day began with a setback, as Nasir mistimed a pull shot, and Bangladesh ended the day still trailing New Zealand by 89 runs. Early on the fourth morning, Abdur Razzak fell quickly, leaving a useful lead tantalizingly close for New Zealand. But then, Gazi transformed the narrative, digging in and taking on the Kiwi bowlers with audacity and skill.

It was a masterclass of counter-attacking batting. Gazi’s pugnacious cover drives, deft late cuts, and thumping slogs through mid-wicket stunned the Kiwis, who watched their advantage slip away as the lead narrowed. Together with Robiul Islam, Gazi crafted a 105-run ninth-wicket partnership, dragging Bangladesh into the lead. His hundred, a remarkable feat under immense pressure, turned the spotlight onto his often-overlooked batting abilities. Yet his contributions were far from over.

When New Zealand resumed batting in their second innings, their aggressive approach suggested an imminent declaration, with the lead nearing a safe total. But Gazi, unwilling to relent, took up the ball and orchestrated a spell that would enter the annals of Test cricket history. On a pitch offering little assistance to spinners, Gazi’s skill and guile came to life.

His first scalp was the formidable Brendon McCullum, whom he bowled just as the Kiwis were building dangerous momentum. Then, in a thrilling turn, Gazi unleashed a devastating over. Corey Anderson was the first to go, trapped lbw, and BJ Watling, who had scored a century in the first innings, soon edged a sharply bouncing delivery to the wicketkeeper. Bracewell arrived at the crease, tasked with thwarting Gazi’s hat-trick attempt, but Gazi had other plans. He sent down a vicious arm-ball that glanced off Bracewell’s bat, deflecting from the wicketkeeper's gloves to slip, where Shakib Al Hasan snatched it with a one-handed leap. The stadium erupted. Gazi’s feat—a hundred, a five-wicket haul, and a hat-trick in the same Test—made him the first cricketer in history to achieve such a milestone.

Sohag Gazi’s story is one of determination and adaptability. Although he may not have the natural flair of Nasir Hossain or Mominul Haque, Gazi's grit and tireless work ethic have fueled his rapid growth since his debut against the West Indies. He may not yet be fully established in the team, but his fearless display at Chittagong showed a cricketer of extraordinary potential, a player willing to fight until the end. 

In the years ahead, Gazi's future appears bright. His performance not only underscored his own promise but also sent a clear message to the cricketing world: Bangladesh’s players are learning, growing, and achieving, slowly carving out a place for themselves in the Test arena. With hard work and resilience, the Tigers are laying the groundwork for a new era in their cricketing journey.

 

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

From Doubt to Determination: Bangladesh's Resurgence in Test Cricket

In the world of Test cricket, there’s a familiar refrain: “Who cares about Bangladesh?”The question, so often tossed around by non-Bangladeshi fans, reflects a longstanding scepticism. Since gaining Test status, the Tigers have endured years of disheartening defeats, each one reinforcing doubts about their place in the longest format. Critics have seldom shown sympathy, pointing out the lack of a consistent Test temperament and, at times, questioning the very credibility of Bangladesh as a Test-playing nation.

Yet, as time turns and experience grows, so too does potential. Change, after all, is inevitable, and Bangladesh has slowly but surely been learning the art of Test cricket. Thirteen years into their Test journey, some may wonder why progress has been slow, but growth is rarely linear. For Bangladesh, it’s been the slow-and-steady path, a deliberate effort to build a foundation that can eventually stand tall in the crucible of five-day cricket.

This cautious journey was evident in their recent Test series against New Zealand at Chittagong. As usual, the series drew little interest from international fans and was marred by the usual trolling of Bangladeshi cricketers on social media. But the Tigers responded in the best way they knew—on the field, with gritty and determined displays. 

New Zealand, after a formidable start, built an imposing first-innings total, with BJ Watling and Trent Boult’s last-wicket partnership dashing early Bangladeshi hopes. Facing such a total, Bangladesh's reputation suggested they might crumble. Early in their first innings, the script appeared to repeat itself, with both openers dismissed quickly, leaving the Tigers reeling at 8-2. But then, Mominul Haque, a young talent from Cox’s Bazar, took centre stage, picked over the more experienced Naeem Islam, and his response was emphatic. He shifted gears, punishing the New Zealand attack with striking ease, his offside stroke play a visual delight reminiscent of Kumar Sangakkara’s graceful precision.

While Mominul dazzled, doubts loomed—Bangladesh’s batsmen are known for bright starts that often fizzle out. But this time, Mominul found steady support from debutant Marshall Ayub, and a budding partnership helped steady the innings. As the match progressed, there were moments of peril; in the third morning, Marshall and Shakib fell in quick succession, reigniting fears of another collapse. Yet, a crucial partnership between Mominul and Mushfiqur Rahim followed, as the pair put on a 121-run stand for the fifth wicket, steering Bangladesh into safer waters. Mominul was denied a double century, and Mushfiq fell to a searing delivery from Doug Bracewell, yet Bangladesh resisted another collapse. Nasir Hossain and Sohag Gazi held firm with a 70-run stand, and although Nasir fell late in the day, Bangladesh's resolve was evident.

The fourth day saw Bangladesh’s tail wag ferociously. Sohag Gazi scored a spectacular century, while Robiul Islam provided a steady 33, propelling Bangladesh to a lead of 32. What began as a hope for survival became a memorable fightback, drawing Bangladesh close to a historic result. The final day held its own share of drama as Sohag Gazi etched his name in the record books with a hat-trick, becoming the first player in Test history to score a century, take a five-wicket haul, and secure a hat-trick in the same match. It was a remarkable feat, a gift for fans celebrating Durga Puja and Eid alike.

Beyond individual brilliance, something deeper has shifted in Bangladesh’s approach. Historically, the weight of a large total would have triggered panic, scattering partnerships and inviting collapses. But in Chittagong, Bangladesh’s batsmen showed newfound composure, and understanding when to attack and when to defend. The calmness under pressure, and the resilience to hold partnerships together—are qualities that signal a turning tide. Bangladesh may still have a way to go, but performances like these hint at a future where they can stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the world's Test elite.

Such spirited displays serve as a reminder of the importance of nurturing emerging cricketing nations. A few months ago, Zimbabwe outplayed Pakistan in an upset victory, yet their opportunities to play Test cricket remain limited. The broader cricketing world must realize that genuine growth cannot be confined to T20 tournaments or fleeting ODI series. Development should mean giving all teams, including those ranked lower, a fair shot at competing in Tests against the best.

Bangladesh’s journey in Test cricket underscores the value of patience and persistence. If cricket’s custodians are truly invested in a global game, they must ensure that opportunities for Test cricket are extended to all. For now, Chittagong serves as a reminder that Bangladesh is no longer content to simply participate—they are here to compete, and in time, to conquer.

 

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

A Test of Resolve: Bangladesh Seeks Redemption Against New Zealand in the Longest Format

Three years ago, a formidable New Zealand squad arrived on Bangladeshi soil, poised to clash in an ODI series that would become more than just a competition—it would be a test of pride and resilience. The initial plan had included a two-match Test series, but in a move that stung the Bangladeshi cricketing psyche, New Zealand Cricket requested that it be scrapped. With the 2011 World Cup on the horizon, the Kiwis aimed to sharpen their one-day focus, transforming the ODI series from a three-match bout into a best-of-five showdown. Yet, what stung Bangladesh even more deeply was New Zealand’s subsequent decision to play a Test series in India just before the World Cup. Feeling slighted, the Tigers answered with unwavering resolve, decimating New Zealand 4-0 in the ODI series. Led by the mercurial Shakib Al Hasan, the Tigers celebrated a commanding victory in Mirpur’s Sher-e-Bangla Stadium—a triumph etched into the collective memory of Bangladesh fans.

Now, New Zealand returns to Bangladesh for a full series, comprising two Tests, three ODIs, and a lone T20I. But history tells us that the Tigers have yet to overcome the Kiwis in the longer format. Since their inaugural meeting in 2001-02, Bangladesh’s efforts to claim a Test victory over New Zealand have fallen just short. Notably, in 2008, Bangladesh almost tasted victory at Chittagong, where they set New Zealand a challenging target of 317. The Kiwis, on the brink of collapse, were saved by a resilient partnership between Daniel Vettori and Daniel Flynn, who wrested the game from the jaws of the Tigers. That Test series ended 1-0 in favor of New Zealand, another bittersweet chapter in Bangladesh’s journey toward Test credibility.

In the years since, Bangladesh has grown significantly in limited-overs cricket, but the Test format has remained a daunting frontier. Bangladesh's battles often flare with moments of brilliance, only to fade under pressure. They have, time and again, failed to deliver the final blow—a shortfall rooted in temperament as much as technique.

New Zealand’s recent record in Test cricket, however, offers Bangladesh a glimmer of hope. The Kiwis have yet to secure a Test victory this year, enduring an arduous campaign in South Africa and a humbling experience in England. Meanwhile, Bangladesh has bolstered its confidence with a Test win in 2024 and a few valiant performances against Sri Lanka. Yet, if history has taught Bangladesh anything, it’s that reliance on sporadic bursts of brilliance cannot anchor a Test win.

The Tiger’s Achilles’ heel remains their inconsistent and often impetuous batting. Over the years, Bangladesh’s batsmen have squandered hard-won advantages, their resolve succumbing to ill-timed shots and collapses that echo the all-too-familiar narrative of missed opportunities. Partnerships are brittle, and once a wicket falls, panic cascades through the lineup, leaving the entire innings in tatters. Boundaries—often relied upon too heavily—become a false comfort, masking the lack of disciplined strike rotation. The art of “occupying the crease” is a lesson the Bangladeshi batsmen have yet to fully grasp.

Against New Zealand, that lesson will be paramount. Bangladesh’s spinners possess the craft and cunning needed to challenge New Zealand, especially on turning pitches where the Kiwis have historically faltered. Yet, without cohesive and patient batting, their efforts will fall in vain. Bangladesh must strive for a collective fortitude, a batting effort that sustains rather than sputters, to translate any bowling successes into a meaningful result.

Though New Zealand arrives without the seasoned presence of Daniel Vettori and Tim Southee, they bring a resilient bowling attack. Trent Boult, Neil Wagner, and Doug Bracewell are adept in their craft, possessing the skill to dismantle even a confident batting lineup. If Bangladesh fails to apply themselves, this Kiwi unit—leaner though it may be—can still pose a formidable challenge. 

This series, then, is not just another clash between two cricketing nations. It is a test of Bangladesh’s ability to harness its limited-overs spirit and transform it into the discipline required for Test cricket—a call to show not just flashes of brilliance, but a resolve worthy of the longest format.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

Resilience Personified: The Unyielding Journey of Mashrafe Mortaza

He blazed onto the Bangladesh cricket scene like a comet, a young, untamed force destined to change the landscape of Bangladeshi fast bowling. It was 2001, and an under-17 rookie caught the discerning eye of Andy Roberts, then temporarily coaching the Bangladesh bowlers. Roberts, himself a legendary pacer, immediately recognized the raw hunger and relentless energy that the young bowler from Narail brought to the field, remarking that the boy had a promising future. And so, based on Roberts’s endorsement, this budding talent was swiftly drafted into the Bangladesh A team, and after a single match, awarded a Test cap against a visiting Zimbabwe side—before he’d even played first-class cricket.

That boy was Mashrafe Mortaza. As he took the new ball in his debut Test, there were murmurs in our medical college's common room. Bangladeshi fans still remembered the tall, lean figure of Hasibul Hossain, and many were wary of his successor. But as Mortaza bounded in with his fierce pace, the collective doubts began to dissolve. A newfound hope took shape, and astonishment lit the room. "Wow!" was the immediate response of my friends. "Is he really from Bangladesh?" we asked in disbelief, for a speedster had indeed arrived.

But in Bangladeshi cricket, hope often courts heartbreak. Over the following years, we could only glimpse flashes of Mortaza's brilliance; the sustained thrill we anticipated was eclipsed by relentless injuries. His powerful yet unsteady bowling action took a toll on his body, especially his back and lower extremities. Injuries sidelined him time and again, disrupting his career at every promising turn. Moreover, his captains, perhaps overly eager to wield their premier weapon, often deployed Mortaza in long, punishing spells, never fully accounting for the toll on his body. The result was a career punctuated with injury and interrupted potential, a saga that deprived Bangladesh of what could have been a legendary run.

Yet, what sets Mortaza apart is his indomitable spirit. Injuries may have repeatedly threatened to end his journey, but every time, Mortaza returned, as resilient as ever. To Bangladeshi fans, Mortaza became more than a cricketer; he was a symbol of courage and endurance. His tenacity and refusal to be sidelined turned him into a national hero, even eclipsing the allure of Shakib Al Hasan and Tamim Iqbal during his prime.

This deep connection with his fans propelled him onward. Mortaza seemed to sense the heartbeat of his supporters, which drove him to defy the odds and claw his way back to the game he loved. After overcoming his latest injury, which had sidelined him for an extended period, he made a stunning return to the Dhaka Premier League. Fans were thrilled to see him close to his best, delivering searing bouncers, extracting movement off the seam, and bowling with sharp pace. His four-wicket haul against Abahani Limited, where he represented Mohammedan Sporting Club, was a moment of rekindled faith, a reminder that the Narail Express still had some fuel left in the tank.

If fate favours him once again, and if he secures a place back in the national squad, it will bring not only strength to Bangladesh's bowling attack but also a resurgence of hope for fans across the country, especially with the impending series against New Zealand. Yet, as always with Mortaza, the question remains: can his body bear the relentless grind of international cricket one more time? 

Only time will reveal if this comeback will be his final chapter or yet another defiant stand against the toll of injuries. For now, we are left to marvel at Mashrafe Mortaza’s journey—a testament to the unyielding will and the enduring spirit of a bowler who never truly left his game, no matter how many times he was forced to the sidelines.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

Redemption For Brazil: When God Sent Romario To Save The Selecao in Maracana

The 1990 FIFA World Cup Round of 16 clash between Brazil and Argentina in Turin remains etched in football folklore, a tale of brilliance and heartbreak that unfolded under the weight of sky-high expectations. The Seleção, hot favourites to lift the trophy, were undone not by the sheer weight of Argentine attacks but by a single moment of genius from Diego Maradona and the clinical precision of Claudio Caniggia. 

For 80 minutes, Brazil had dominated the match. Wave after wave of attacks crashed against a resolute Argentine defence, with goalkeeper Sergio Goycochea emerging as a wall of defiance. The Brazilian forwards, despite their flair and ingenuity, found no way through. The game seemed destined to hinge on a moment of individual brilliance or a fatal lapse. 

It came from Maradona. 

With the ball at his feet inside his own half, Maradona was immediately surrounded by a swarm of yellow shirts. Four Brazilian players closed in, pressing him with an intensity born of desperation. Yet, the diminutive playmaker, undeterred and seemingly impervious to pressure, began his forward march. He shrugged off a clumsy challenge from behind and drove ahead, each touch more precise than the last. 

As Maradona approached the Brazilian penalty area, another quartet of defenders awaited, their focus fixed entirely on him. They failed to notice Claudio Caniggia, a blur of white and blue, sprinting into the open space behind them. With a final touch, just as he lost his balance, Maradona threaded the ball between the legs of a defender, the pass so audacious and unexpected that it left the Brazilian backline in disarray. 

Caniggia latched onto the ball, his run perfectly timed. Alone against Taffarel, the Brazilian goalkeeper, Caniggia remained composed. As Taffarel advanced, the Argentine forward swept the ball past him with a deft touch, rounded him effortlessly, and chipped it into the net with an elegance that belied the tension of the moment. 

Turin erupted. Argentina, against all odds, had taken the lead. The Brazilian players were stunned, and their fans were heartbroken. Tears flowed freely in the stands, the anguish of a nation palpable. 

The Fallout: Lazaroni’s Fall from Grace

The defeat marked a turning point for Brazil, one that reverberated far beyond the Stadio delle Alpi. Sebastiao Lazaroni, the manager who had introduced the controversial 3–5–2 system to Brazilian football, bore the brunt of the backlash. Lazaroni’s attempt to integrate the libero position, a concept alien to Brazil’s traditional attacking philosophy, had been met with scepticism even before the tournament. 

His tenure was paradoxical. Just a year earlier, he had led Brazil to their first international trophy in nearly two decades, winning the Copa América at home and breaking a 19-year drought. Yet, that triumph was overshadowed by the failure in Italy. In 35 matches under Lazaroni’s guidance, Brazil won 21, drew seven, and lost seven—a respectable record tarnished by the weight of this singular defeat. 

Back home, Lazaroni was met with hostility. The prophets of doom descended, casting long shadows over Brazilian football. Critics lambasted his tactics, labelling him the architect of Brazil’s downfall. The defeat in Turin became emblematic of an era of missteps and miscalculations, a cautionary tale of abandoning the nation’s footballing identity. 

Adding a layer of controversy to the heartbreak was the infamous "Holy Water Scandal." Allegations surfaced that Maradona had orchestrated a ploy to spike Brazil’s water bottles with tranquillizers, a revelation that shook the footballing world. Yet, no scandal or post-match inquiry could alter the result in Turin. Argentina advanced, and Brazil was left to grapple with the sting of defeat. 

The tragedy in Turin marked the end of an era and the beginning of introspection for Brazilian football. The defeat forced a reckoning with the nation's tactical philosophy, leading to a gradual return to its roots—emphasizing flair, creativity, and attacking prowess.  

The Brazil of Falcão: A Stumble Through Shadows

The appointment of Paulo Roberto Falcão as Brazil's head coach in 1990 carried the weight of high expectations and nostalgia. A midfield maestro in his playing days, Falcão embodied the elegance and creativity that defined Brazil’s footballing identity. His vision for a "new-look" Brazil was ambitious, rooted in a return to local talent and a revival of the attacking flair synonymous with the Seleção. However, his tenure would instead come to symbolize a dark chapter in Brazilian football, marked by tactical missteps, disjointed performances, and a failure to adapt to the evolving demands of the modern game. 

Falcão’s initial blueprint focused on building a team around domestic players, a bold move in an era when many of Brazil’s best talents were plying their trade in Europe. He named Neto as captain, signalling a desire for fresh leadership, but the results were anything but inspiring. 

The first test came against Spain, where Brazil suffered a humbling 3-0 defeat. It was a harbinger of struggles to come. In subsequent matches, the Seleção faced Chile in a two-game series intended to mend diplomatic and footballing relations after the infamous "Firecracker Incident" that had led to Chile's ban from the World Cup. Both matches ended in dour, goalless draws, offering little solace to fans yearning for a return to glory. 

Even a celebratory match to honour Pelé’s 50th birthday turned sour, as Brazil lost to a World XI. The year ended with yet another goalless stalemate, this time against Mexico. In his first five matches, Falcão's Brazil had failed to score a single goal, leaving supporters disillusioned and doubting his ability to lead the team. 

By 1991, Falcão recognized the need to call up Brazil’s European-based stars, acknowledging that the modern game demanded a blend of local talent and international experience. Yet, even this plan faltered. Key players like Romário and Aldair were denied release by their clubs, highlighting the growing tension between domestic leagues and the demands of international football. 

Falcão’s tactical philosophy also began to shift. Realizing that the dream of recreating Telê Santana’s fluid, attacking Brazil was impractical, he leaned toward pragmatism. This pragmatic approach, however, failed to deliver consistent results. A fiery 3-3 draw against Argentina in Buenos Aires hinted at promise but was followed by a string of uninspiring performances. Victories against weaker opponents like Romania and Bulgaria did little to quell criticism. 

The Copa América offered Falcão a chance at redemption, but it instead became the final nail in his coaching coffin. The tournament was marred by controversy even before it began, with Bebeto storming out of the squad after Falcão refused to guarantee him a starting position. Bebeto’s departure highlighted the growing discord within the team, as the coach struggled to manage egos and maintain harmony. 

Brazil’s group-stage performances were mixed. Wins against Bolivia and Ecuador were offset by a loss to Colombia, then at the peak of their footballing prowess, and a draw against Uruguay. In the final round, Brazil faced a formidable Argentina side in Santiago in a match that descended into chaos, with five players sent off. Brazil lost 3-2, a result that many saw as emblematic of the tension and tactical confusion that plagued Falcão’s reign. 

Despite victories against Colombia and Chile, Brazil fell short of the title by a single point, with Argentina emerging as champions. 

Criticism of Falcão reached a crescendo. His reliance on negative tactics, a stark departure from Brazil’s celebrated attacking tradition, drew ire both at home and abroad. The absence of foreign-based players further exposed the limitations of his squad, as the homegrown talent failed to match the standards of the 1970s and 1980s. 

On August 21, 1991, Falcão was sacked, bringing an end to a turbulent era. His tenure, though brief, left a lasting impression—a cautionary tale of the perils of clinging to outdated ideals while failing to adapt to the realities of modern football. 

The Falcão era is often remembered as a nadir in Brazil’s footballing history, a time when the Seleção seemed adrift, caught between the weight of its storied past and the challenges of a rapidly changing game. Yet, from this period of darkness emerged valuable lessons. The failures of 1990-91 underscored the need for a more balanced approach, one that embraced both the artistry of Brazilian football and the tactical discipline required to compete on the global stage. 

In the years that followed, Brazil would rebuild, rediscovering its identity and reclaiming its place at the pinnacle of world football. The struggles of the Falcão era, painful as they were, became a stepping stone to future triumphs—a reminder that even in the darkest times, the seeds of greatness can be sown.  

Carlos Alberto Parreira: Architect of a Fragile Rebirth

Carlos Alberto Parreira’s journey to becoming the manager of the Brazilian national team in the early 1990s was as unconventional as it was inspiring. From his beginnings as a young physical education student in Rio de Janeiro to his transformative stints in Ghana and Kuwait, Parreira embodied a rare blend of academic rigour and tactical innovation. However, his appointment as Brazil's head coach in 1991 came at a time of turmoil for the Seleção, and his tenure would test both his resilience and his vision. 

In 1967, a 23-year-old Parreira was catapulted into international football when Ghana sought a young, dynamic manager. His academic background and innovative ideas earned him the role, and though his tenure was brief, it was marked by his ability to connect with players and implement modern techniques. 

Parreira’s coaching odyssey took him to Germany, where he honed his skills further, and then to the backroom staff of Brazil’s legendary 1970 World Cup team. Witnessing the pinnacle of footballing excellence only fueled his ambition to lead a team of his own. 

His first major managerial breakthrough came with Kuwait in 1978. Tasked with building a team from scratch, Parreira introduced a professional structure that transformed the squad. His methods bore fruit when Kuwait qualified for the 1982 World Cup, a feat that remains unmatched in their history. Although they finished last in their group, their spirited performances—including a draw against Czechoslovakia—earned global respect. 

Stints with the UAE and other teams followed, but it was his reputation as a meticulous planner and a bold thinker that caught the attention of the Brazilian Football Confederation (CBF). With the national team in disarray following Paulo Roberto Falcão’s ill-fated tenure, Parreira was seen as the man to restore stability and purpose. 

Parreira’s appointment in 1991 was a homecoming of sorts, but it was anything but smooth. His decision to omit Romário, one of Brazil’s most beloved and prolific strikers, from the squad sparked outrage among fans and the media. Parreira justified his choice as part of a larger tactical vision, but his pragmatism clashed with Brazil’s romanticized footballing ethos. 

The World Cup qualifiers for USA 1994 began under immense scrutiny. Brazil, drawn into a group with Uruguay, Bolivia, Ecuador, and Venezuela, faced a daunting task in an era where South American football was becoming increasingly competitive. 

Brazil’s campaign began with a goalless draw against Ecuador, a result that, while not disastrous, failed to inspire confidence. The Seleção’s next challenge was a perilous trip to La Paz to face Bolivia. Managed by Spanish tactician Xabier Azkargorta, Bolivia boasted a revitalized squad led by the mercurial Marco Antonio Etcheverry. Fresh off a 7-1 demolition of Venezuela, Bolivia shocked Brazil with a 2-0 victory, their first-ever win over the Seleção. 

The defeat sent shockwaves through Brazil. Fans and pundits alike lambasted Parreira’s tactics, questioning his reliance on players perceived as less talented than their predecessors. Calls for his dismissal grew louder, but Parreira remained steadfast, making adjustments to his lineup and approach. 

Brazil rebounded with a commanding 5-1 win over Venezuela, but the victory was overshadowed by the crowd’s relentless chants for Romário. The public’s discontent reached a fever pitch, reflecting a nation’s anxiety over the team’s uncertain trajectory. 

Compounding the turmoil was the suspension of backup goalkeeper Zetti, who, along with Bolivian defender Miguel Rimba, tested positive for traces of cocaine. Both players claimed the results were due to coca leaf tea, a traditional remedy for altitude sickness. Zetti’s absence was a significant blow, as he was highly regarded within the squad. 

Brazil’s subsequent matches saw a mix of resilience and revival. A hard-fought 1-1 draw against Uruguay in Montevideo was followed by convincing home victories over Ecuador and Bolivia. Venezuela was dispatched with ease once more, but the points table remained precarious. 

As the qualifiers neared their conclusion, it became clear that Brazil’s fate would hinge on their final match against Uruguay at the Maracanã. The stakes could not have been higher: a victory would secure Brazil’s place in the World Cup, while a loss would mark the first time in history that the Seleção failed to qualify for football’s greatest stage. 

Parreira’s tenure, up to this point, had been a crucible of fire. His methods, though rooted in pragmatism, often clashed with Brazil’s cultural expectations of attacking flair and individual brilliance. The omission of Romário loomed large over his reign, symbolizing the tension between tradition and evolution. 

Yet, despite the criticism and chaos, Parreira had instilled a sense of discipline and structure that would later prove invaluable. The Maracanã showdown against Uruguay was not just a test of his tactical acumen but a defining moment in Brazil’s footballing history—a moment that would determine whether Parreira’s vision was one of folly or foresight. 

In the face of adversity, Parreira’s story became one of resilience and reinvention. His journey from a young physical education student to the brink of World Cup qualification was a testament to his unyielding belief in the power of preparation and adaptation. Whether he could lead Brazil to redemption remained to be seen, but one thing was certain: Carlos Alberto Parreira was no stranger to defying the odds.  

Romário: The King of the Maracanã and the Savior of Brazil

In the annals of Brazilian football, few moments resonate as powerfully as the night Romário reigned supreme at the Maracanã. It was a match that transcended sport, a spectacle where skill, redemption, and destiny converged. For a nation on the brink of footballing humiliation, Romário’s brilliance was not just a performance—it was salvation. 

A Nation’s Desperation and a Coach’s Dilemma

Carlos Alberto Parreira’s tenure as Brazil’s manager had been fraught with controversy. Chief among the criticisms was his exclusion of Romário, the diminutive genius who had mesmerized European audiences with his dazzling exploits at PSV Eindhoven and Barcelona. Romário, alongside legends like Roberto Baggio, Lothar Matthäus, and Hristo Stoichkov, was widely regarded as one of the best players of his era. 

Yet, Parreira had resisted public pressure to include the fiery forward, citing concerns over discipline and tactical fit. Fans, however, were unrelenting. Protests erupted across Brazil, with “Baixinho” (The Little One) scrawled on walls and banners. The clamour reached a crescendo as Brazil faced a do-or-die World Cup qualifier against Uruguay. 

The injury to Müller, Parreira’s preferred partner for Bebeto upfront, left the coach with no choice but to call upon Romário. It was a reluctant decision, but one that would alter the trajectory of Brazilian football. 

The Stage is Set: A Night of Redemption

On November 19, 1993, the Maracanã was a cauldron of anticipation. Over 150,000 fans packed the iconic stadium, their chants echoing with a mix of hope and desperation. Brazil needed a win to secure qualification for the 1994 World Cup, and Uruguay, a team with a history of upsetting the Seleção, stood in their way. 

Parreira fielded his strongest lineup. Dunga, back from suspension, anchored the midfield alongside Mauro Silva. Branco and Jorginho patrolled the flanks, while Ricardo Gomes and Ricardo Rocha formed a solid defensive pairing. In attack, Bebeto and Romário led the line, with Zinho and Raí providing creative support. 

From the opening whistle, Brazil played with urgency. Wave after wave of attacks surged toward the Uruguayan goal, but the visitors’ defence held firm. As the clock ticked past the 70th minute, anxiety rippled through the crowd. Was this to be the night the unthinkable happened? 

Romário Ascends: A Star is Reborn

In the 72nd minute, the breakthrough came. Bebeto, darting down the right flank, delivered a precise cross into the box. Rising between two defenders, Romário met the ball with a thunderous header, sending it past the Uruguayan goalkeeper. The Maracanã erupted in unison, a collective roar of relief and ecstasy. 

But Romário wasn’t done. Ten minutes later, he found himself one-on-one with the Uruguayan keeper. With a feint as smooth as a samba step, he left the goalkeeper stranded and coolly slotted the ball into the net. It was a moment of pure artistry, the kind that only Romário could conjure. 

The final whistle confirmed Brazil’s 2-0 victory. The Maracanã crowd, now a sea of jubilation, hailed Romário as their saviour. Flowers were metaphorically showered upon him as the diminutive forward stood tall, his arms raised in triumph. 

A Legacy Cemented

Romário’s heroics not only secured Brazil’s place in the 1994 World Cup but also marked the beginning of a transformative chapter. In the United States, Brazil would go on to claim their fourth World Cup title, ending a 24-year drought. Romário’s performances in the tournament, where he scored five goals and provided countless moments of magic, earned him the Golden Ball as the best player of the competition. 

For Parreira, the decision to reintegrate Romário vindicated his tenure, albeit under duress. The coach’s pragmatic approach, combined with Romário’s brilliance, created a team that balanced discipline with flair. 

A Brief Resurgence and Lingering Questions

While the 1994 triumph brought a brief period of unity and optimism, it also underscored the fragility of Brazil’s footballing identity. The team’s reliance on Romário’s individual brilliance highlighted a departure from the collective artistry of previous generations. Parreira’s tactics, though effective, were criticized for being overly cautious, a stark contrast to the free-flowing football of the 1970s. 

Nevertheless, that night at the Maracanã remains a testament to the power of talent and redemption. Romário’s ascension to the throne of Brazilian football was a reminder of the enduring magic of the beautiful game, where one player’s genius can inspire a nation and change the course of history.  

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

Lessons in Resilience: Zimbabwe’s Triumph and Pakistan’s Test Cricket Struggles

The final day of the second Test between Pakistan and Zimbabwe was anticipated to be a riveting showdown, a climax worthy of the resilience and intensity Test cricket demands. Pakistan found themselves in a position reminiscent of the iconic Multan Test against Bangladesh a decade earlier, where Inzamam-ul-Haq, against all odds, had become a one-man fortress, leading his team to an unforgettable victory. This time, fans looked to Misbah-ul-Haq to replicate that feat, but fate, it seemed, had other plans. Misbah could not channel the magic of Inzamam, and what unfolded was a historic triumph for Zimbabwe—a moment of collective jubilation as they celebrated a hard-fought victory, leaving Pakistan stunned.

Harare became the stage for a triumph of team spirit over disarray. Zimbabwe’s path to this moment had been steeped in turmoil; the players faced disputes with their Board over overdue payments and even threatened to boycott the series altogether. Yet, in the face of these challenges, the Zimbabwean team rallied. It was a demonstration of resilience, one that saw them face off with renewed energy and self-belief, beginning from the very first Test. Although Zimbabwe lost that initial battle of patience and resilience, they emerged for the second Test a transformed unit, full of steely resolve. Pakistan, by contrast, seemed unprepared for this resolute opposition, and their frail performance allowed Zimbabwe to seize an extraordinary victory.

At the heart of Pakistan’s struggles was a persistent inability to chase down totals—a problem as old as their storied journey in cricket itself. Since the late 1990s, Pakistani batsmen have been haunted by the specter of collapsing under the pressure of a chase. Despite hiring accomplished batting coaches and holding rigorous camps with esteemed consultants, the Pakistani side has struggled to instil the mindset crucial for Test cricket. Test cricket is not just a game; it is a philosophy. It demands precision, persistence, and poise—a methodology that holds no space for rash, whimsical strokes. To succeed, batsmen must cultivate a rhythm of patience, occupying the crease and rotating the strike rather than resorting to high-risk shots. Yet, in Zimbabwe, Pakistan’s batsmen succumbed to their own flashiness, launching into promising starts only to fall in unsightly ways. This repeated approach proved costly, underscoring a worrying inability to adapt to the mental demands of the longest format of the game.

However, Zimbabwe’s success was not merely a consequence of Pakistan’s failures. Their achievement deserves to be celebrated as a testament to the power of unity, focus, and discipline under trying circumstances. In modern cricket, winning a Test match is a rare feat that goes beyond luck; it is an ordeal of mental and physical endurance. Zimbabwe’s triumph here is an example of grit and determination to conquer more formidable resources and reputations. Lacking a formidable bowling attack or explosive batting lineup, Zimbabwe relied on a disciplined, methodical approach. Their steadfast resolve underscored the fact that cricket, at its core, rewards focus and perseverance above all else.

This win propelled Zimbabwe to ninth place in the ICC Test Championship rankings, overtaking Bangladesh, and raised important questions for Bangladesh’s cricket community. While this result may not have delighted Bangladeshi fans, it offers a sobering benchmark. Zimbabwe’s rise, with fewer resources and more turbulence, is a reminder that in Test cricket, commitment and determination are as critical as talent and infrastructure. Over the past thirteen years, Bangladesh has won only four Test matches—a meagre total considering their facilities, better compensation, and a more stable Cricket Board compared to Zimbabwe. In contrast, since their re-entry to Test cricket in 2011, Zimbabwe has achieved three Test wins in two years, including this victory against Pakistan—a significant Test-playing nation.

Bangladesh’s journey in Test cricket has been marked by untapped potential. It is time to recognize Zimbabwe’s recent achievements not with envy but with a desire to emulate their progress. Bangladesh must confront the realities of Test cricket, reflecting on Zimbabwe’s success as a wake-up call. If a team facing such adversity can showcase growth and resilience, then surely, with the right attitude and strategic intent, Bangladesh too can turn its story around. For now, Zimbabwe’s triumph serves as a clear answer to the question, “Who is improving more?”

 

Thank You
Faisal Caesar

Reviving the Spirit of Bangladeshi Cricket: The Case for Dhaka Premier League Coverage

 

After a protracted period of speculation and a buildup fraught with setbacks, the Dhaka Premier League (DPL) finally launched on September 10, offering a rare surge of excitement for Bangladeshi cricket fans amidst off-field controversies and administrative turmoil. With Bangladesh cricket veering dangerously off course due to behind-the-scenes politics, the DPL has emerged as a bright spot. Here, between the bat and the ball, lies a contest that matters deeply to every cricket enthusiast and cricketer in Bangladesh—a contest with the power to momentarily eclipse the chaos and breathe life back into the game.

The league roared to life on its opening day at the Shahid Kamruzzaman Stadium in Rajshahi. As Prime Bank Cricket Club posted a commanding total of 334 runs, driven by Ziaur Rahman’s explosive 89, Mahmudul Hasan’s smooth 54, and PBB Rajapaksa’s rapid-fire 107, the battle lines were clearly drawn. Chasing this formidable target, Brothers Union found themselves struggling, unable to break free from the mounting pressure. Yet, the match was ignited by an extraordinary innings from Nafees Iqbal, who played a lone hand, scoring a remarkable 150 off 140 balls with 21 boundaries and a six. His innings was a masterclass in controlled aggression—a last beacon of hope for Brothers Union even as the team faltered around him.

However, despite the brilliance on display, only a handful of spectators at the stadium were there to witness it, for the DPL has been deprived of television coverage. This lack of broadcast and publicity is a sobering reminder of the limited attention domestic cricket receives in Bangladesh. At a time when the cricketing community is yearning for quality cricket, DPL remains an invisible spectacle, its moments lost to all but a few, denied the reach and resonance it deserves.

In a nation overflowing with television networks, it’s baffling that DPL coverage has not found a place on any channel. Broadcasting the DPL would be a balm to Bangladesh’s cricket-hungry populace, who are left with little to watch during the international off-season. The Bangladesh Premier League (BPL) garners immense enthusiasm and investment; however, DPL and other domestic formats are given minimal exposure. The Dhaka Premier League and the National Cricket League are foundational pillars for Bangladeshi cricket—they cultivate our next generation of stars, shaping their skills and temperament for the international stage. It is here, in these leagues, that future legends are born, and the nation’s cricketers earn their stripes. But without coverage, these leagues remain largely invisible, even as they bear the weight of our cricketing future.

The disparity becomes even starker when one glances across the border. In India, the Ranji Trophy garners widespread attention, with cricket experts, fans, and journalists closely following its every development. Television networks deliver live action to households, while the print media keeps fans engaged with extensive articles and statistical insights. Other major cricketing nations like Australia, England, South Africa, Pakistan, New Zealand, and Sri Lanka also show deep respect for their domestic competitions, bringing them into the spotlight with thorough media coverage.

Sadly, Bangladesh has yet to recognize the heartbeat of its cricketing landscape. Our media and sponsors need to feel the pulse of the nation. While it is true that television channels require a balanced diet of entertainment and news, they cannot overlook cricket—the sport that unites our country. This oversight denies millions of Bangladeshis access to moments of cricketing greatness and the stories that unfold on their soil. A dedicated sports channel or even a more inclusive approach from existing networks could capture the thrill of DPL and NCL, fostering national pride in the cricketers who are striving, often out of view, to make Bangladesh a force in the global cricketing arena.

The time has come for our media and sponsors to recognize that domestic cricket isn’t just a step to the international stage but a vital narrative of its own—one that deserves to be shared, celebrated, and cherished across Bangladesh.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

A Night of Infamy: Argentina’s Collapse Against Colombia in 1993

In September 1993, the pages of El Gráfico, Argentina’s iconic sports magazine, bore a stark, black-clad cover. The headline read simply: *Vergüenza* – disgrace. It was an obituary for Argentine football, a brutal reckoning with a night that would live in infamy. The September issue dissected the catastrophe with forensic precision, asking, “Should Basile resign?” and “Maradona: guilty or innocent?” The shame emanated from the Monumental Stadium in Buenos Aires, where Colombia’s footballers had orchestrated a 5-0 masterclass that left Argentina’s players and fans paralyzed with disbelief.

A Shocking Prelude

The road to this fateful match had been fraught with tension. The South American qualifiers for the 1994 FIFA World Cup were unforgiving, with only the group winners securing direct qualification and runners-up forced into intercontinental playoffs. Argentina, fresh off a Copa América triumph, carried the weight of expectation. Colombia, meanwhile, had emerged as a dark horse, showcasing flair and resilience.

The first leg in Barranquilla had already unsettled Argentina, with Colombia claiming a 2-1 victory. Still, few could have predicted the humiliation awaiting them in Buenos Aires. With Argentina boasting a 33-game unbeaten streak and the home advantage of the Monumental, even the thought of a playoff against Oceania’s representative seemed preposterous.

A Match That Defied Expectations

From the outset, the stage was charged with tension. Diego Maradona, though not playing, loomed large, stoking the flames with a pre-match declaration: “You can’t change history: Argentina up, Colombia down.” The Monumental’s crowd mirrored his hubris, greeting the Colombian team with a torrent of abuse.

Argentina began the match with dominance, their 4-4-2 formation orchestrated by Alfio Basile. Gabriel Batistuta, Diego Simeone, and Fernando Redondo imposed their authority, carving open Colombia’s defence. Yet, Oscar Córdoba, a 23-year-old standing in for the imprisoned René Higuita, was impenetrable. His heroics foreshadowed a night of improbable brilliance.

Colombia Strikes First

As the first half unfolded, Colombia began to find their rhythm, orchestrated by their talismanic number 10, Carlos Valderrama. The man with the golden mane dictated the game’s tempo, unfazed by the hostility. In the 41st minute, he delivered a sublime through ball to Freddy Rincón, who rounded the goalkeeper and slotted home. The Monumental fell silent as Colombia took a 1-0 lead into halftime.

The Floodgates Open

The second half was a nightmare for Argentina. Just four minutes in, Faustino Asprilla doubled Colombia’s lead with a moment of individual brilliance, weaving past defenders before coolly finishing. The Argentine defence, once formidable, was now porous, leaving gaps that Colombia exploited with ruthless efficiency.

Rincón struck again in the 72nd minute, his scrappy volley wrong-footing Sergio Goycochea. Two minutes later, Asprilla intercepted a careless pass and curled a stunning shot over the hapless goalkeeper. The final dagger came in the 84th minute when Valderrama’s audacious outside-foot pass set up Adolfo Valencia, who chipped the ball delicately over Goycochea. The scoreboard read 5-0, but the psychological toll on Argentina was immeasurable.

A Humbling Aftermath

As the final whistle blew, the Monumental crowd, once venomous, rose to applaud the Colombians. The gesture was a rare acknowledgement of the artistry they had witnessed. Colombia’s victory was not merely a triumph of skill but a rebuke to the arrogance that had permeated Argentine football.

Alfio Basile, Argentina’s coach, later confessed, “I never want to think about that match again. It was a crime against nature.” Diego Maradona, initially dismissive, eventually praised Colombia’s brilliance.

Eduardo Galeano, the poetic chronicler of football, encapsulated the night: “Colombia’s incredible style, a feast of legs, a joy for the eyes, an ever-changing dance that invented its own music.”

Legacy of a Night to Remember

Colombia’s triumph reverberated beyond the pitch. It was a statement of defiance, a moment when the underdog silenced a giant. For Argentina, it was a wake-up call, a humbling reminder of football’s unpredictability. The match remains etched in the annals of the sport, a testament to the beauty and brutality of the game.

September 5, 1993, was more than a night of shame for Argentina; it was a celebration of Colombia’s courage and creativity, a moment when football transcended borders to tell a story of resilience and redemption.

Thank You
Faisal Caesar