Sunday, July 29, 2018

It was Mashrafe’s series



Mashrafe Bin Mortaza made the ODI series against West Indies all his own......

Let me clarify myself at first. I don’t belong to the school of those blind fans, who always think that whatever their heroes do, is always correct and defend them by abusing – a modern trend among the fans, which is getting worse day by day. In that sense, I am not a worshipper of Mashrafe Bin Mortaza, who, at present, is that public figure, against whom you cannot say anything in Bangladesh. If you say so, well, the consequences won’t be good.

I do have my own complaints against Mashrafe. For example, I don’t appreciate the way he allows a bunch of greedy reporters to hang around him and gives them the opportunity to exploit his image to fill their pockets. I don’t appreciate the idea of making someone a God-like figure, who could neither be asked tough questions nor criticized if he is doing something wrong. And, it’s hard to accept a group of reporters portraying Mashrafe as a freedom fighter or even putting him on the same platform alongside the heroes of independence of Bangladesh!

I am one of the cricket followers in the land of emotions, who criticize such acts. I don’t know how to hog the limelight by going with the wind, but only know that no one is bigger than the team and country. They say, Mashrafe does not care about such things, but I ask, if he doesn’t care, why does he allow them to hang around him?

What I always like to witness is the cricketer Masharfe, who can be analysed in various aspects from the perspective of the game like we do in case of Shakib Al Hasan, Mushfiqur Rahim, Mahmudullah Riyad or Tamim Iqbal. Let us think of Mashrafe as a human-being who is blessed with dedication, willpower, cricketing skills and leadership qualities.  Such qualities have made him one of the best in Bangladesh cricket’s history and a neutral writer’s pen would not move if he starts thinking Mashrafe either as a God or one of the heroes of independence of Bangladesh!

***

When the matter is about dedication and willpower, there is hardly anyone in the current Bangladesh team to hold a candle to Mashrafe. For the last seventeen years, this lad from Narail has given his all for the betterment of Bangladesh cricket. His whole body is nothing but a case study for the medical students who wish to build a career in Orthopaedics. His knees have borne the weight of the nation and at times they have denied supporting his body, but the man’s willpower has always propelled him to move on.            

His willpower has helped him to move on and even if he is not available in Test matches, the 50-over format has remained the platform for the exhibition of Mashrafe’s cricketing skills and leadership abilities. Still today, in coloured clothes, the man remains a symbol of hope.

***   

Bangladesh needed a massive psychological boost after a horrendous Test series. With people like Chris Gayle and Andre Russell around along with some exciting limited-overs customers, West Indies started off the three-match ODI as the favourites.  But one man’s fighting qualities halted their progress – Mashrafe led from the front to defend a total, which was not enough the way limited-overs cricket is played today. Mash displayed his ability to pitch on the right lengths according to the demand of the situation.

With the new ball, he hit the good-length area more, which exposed Evin Lewis, and started to mix up his deliveries when the track started to slow down – the cross-seamed deliveries and roll off the finger ones suffocated the home team’s batters. Mash ended up with four wickets in the match and the Tigers took the lead in the series by a handsome margin. The partnership between Tamim Iqbal and Shakib Al Hasan hogged the limelight, but Mash was instrumental in this win.

The second ODI was a heartbreak and the third one could not be allowed to slip away.

Mash knew he should step up yet again and when Tamim Iqbal was dismissed at a crucial juncture in the match, as number six Mashrafe walked out to bat. The team required acceleration and thus, Mash decided to go after the bowling with his ability to clear the distance. For a while, there was a talk in the Bangladesh cricket fraternity of whether Mash could be used a floater in the batting order because of his power-hitting abilities. But it remained just a thought as the others stepped up to do the job.

In the third ODI at Providence, that thought came into a reality.

When Mash came out to bat, 11 overs were left and Bangladesh badly needed to accelerate to post at least 300 so that they could challenge the home team on such a small ground and good batting track. Mash did not wait too long to shift into fourth gear. His unorthodox style of batting took the West Indian bowlers to the cleaners. Within six overs, the Mashrafe-Mahmmudullah pair scripted a 53-run stand and when Mash left the scene, Mahmudullah carried on the momentum gifted by his skipper to post 301 for 6 in 50 overs.

Chris Gayle and Evin Lewis looked ominous with the bat. But there entered Mashrafe again. Lewis had to surrender to a length ball. The West Indian batters kept on posing a threat and with the wicket helping less, Mash decided to stop the leakage of runs. Shakib and Mehidy Hasan Miraz were used smartly whenever any of the bowlers leaked runs.  Even Mash himself was proving costly and thus decided to rotate his bowlers so that the home team never gained the upper hand. 

But at one point, he ran out of options and had to rely on his pacers who were proving costly. Mash took the risk and when 28 runs were required off 12 balls with two hitters at the crease, the ball was thrown to Rubel Hossain.

Bringing on Rubel in the 49th over was nothing but a courageous decision as the pacer had not bowled well in previous overs.

But Rubel leaked just six runs in one of the most important spells of his cricketing careers.

In the twinkle of an eye, the scenario of the match changed.

Mashrafe left the field with a smile and for a while, the frustration of Test series has vanished.

It was a much needed victory for the Tigers. There has not been anything to cheer about throughout this year and this win was required to bring back the lost confidence.

"If you consider the last three or four months, we really needed to win this series,” Mash said after the match. He then added, “It is a good sign ahead of the Asia Cup. But we have a lot to improve. A series win isn't everything. We have missed out on a lot of areas. Rubel did exactly what the team needed, which is a sign of our improvement but we need them consistently. We need to improve in our batting too”.

That’s how a captain should be! The Bangladesh captain is not over the moon after winning an ODI series outside home after nine years! But, he still thinks about improving more. The skipper is hungry and when a skipper is showing such intent, the mood among the players changes automatically. They feel the eagerness to perform and deliver their very best no matter how tough the situation is.

In my opinion, the three-match ODI series was the series of Mashrafe – a series to remember as a Bangladesh cricket follower for a long time. A series to praise the man named Mashrafe Bin Mortaza.           


Note: This article has been published at Cricketsoccer on 29/07/2018 It was Mashrafe’s series

Thank You
Faisal Caesar 

Thursday, July 26, 2018

A Tale of Pressure and Planning: Mushfiqur Rahim and Bangladesh’s Battle with Close Finishes



The departure of Shakib Al Hasan in the 30th over of a crucial ODI left Mushfiqur Rahim and Mahmudullah Riyad to shoulder the responsibility of the chase. What followed was a masterclass in middle-order batting, as the duo orchestrated an 87-run partnership that seemed poised to script yet another memorable victory for Bangladesh. 

This stand was not about Tamim Iqbal’s uncharacteristic caution or Shakib’s calculated restraint. Instead, it was a display of tactical acceleration—relying on deft touches, strike rotation, and occasional boundaries to keep the asking rate within reach. With every run, the West Indian bowlers appeared increasingly bereft of ideas, while their captain, Jason Holder, looked on helplessly as the match slipped away. 

Bangladesh’s asking rate escalated as the innings progressed, but the confidence and poise of Mushfiqur and Mahmudullah made it feel like the game was theirs to lose. And lose it they did, in a heart-stopping finale that epitomized Bangladesh’s recurring struggles in close encounters. 

The Turning Point: A Run-Out and a Risk

Mahmudullah’s untimely run-out brought Sabbir Rahman to the crease. Together with Mushfiqur, Sabbir began to complement the latter’s aggression. The chase seemed firmly under control until Keemo Paul dismissed Sabbir in the final ball of the penultimate over, leaving Bangladesh needing eight runs from the last six balls. 

With Mushfiqur Rahim—the team’s most experienced finisher—still at the crease, the equation seemed manageable. Memories of his match-winning exploits against India in the Asia Cup six years ago resurfaced, filling fans with cautious optimism. But cricket, as always, had its own script. 

The Final Over: A Moment of Misjudgment

Jason Holder’s first delivery of the last over was a full toss—an error that should have been punished with clinical precision. Instead, Mushfiqur opted for a glory stroke, aiming to seal the match with flair. The ball soared towards the midwicket region, his favoured area, but instead of crossing the boundary, it found the fielder’s hands. 

It was a soft dismissal, one that even Holder seemed surprised by. Mushfiqur’s strength—his ability to target the midwicket region—had once again proved to be his undoing. The West Indies clung to a narrow three-run victory, and Bangladesh was left to rue yet another lost opportunity. 

A Pattern of Heartbreaks

The critics and fans were unforgiving, citing a litany of similar instances where Mushfiqur had faltered under pressure. Captain Tamim Iqbal’s post-match remarks captured the collective frustration: 

“It is not the first time we have lost a close encounter. It has happened quite a few times in the recent past. It is very disappointing that we are not learning from our mistakes. We should have finished the game easily, but unfortunately, we could not.”

At the centre of this recurring narrative is Mushfiqur Rahim—a player celebrated for his skill but increasingly scrutinized for his decision-making in critical moments. 

The Missing Ingredient: Planning Under Pressure

Why does Bangladesh, and Mushfiqur in particular, crumble under pressure so often? The answer lies not merely in temperament but in the art of planning. 

Michael Bevan, one of the greatest finishers in ODI history, once attributed his success to meticulous planning and disciplined execution. Bevan emphasized the importance of understanding the match situation, adapting to the conditions, and making calculated decisions. 

“Even when it looks hard to score, it’s about being disciplined and carrying out your plans. One of my goals was to be there till the end. If I was there till the end, we would win more matches than we lost.” 

The operative word here is “planning.” Bevan’s approach was not about heroics but about calculated strategy—choosing the right ball, playing to his strengths, and remaining adaptable to the game’s evolving demands. 

Where Mushfiqur Fell Short

In the final moments of this match, Mushfiqur appeared to abandon the very discipline that had brought him so close to victory. Rather than continuing the steady accumulation of runs, he opted for a high-risk shot that defied the situational demands. 

Perhaps he believed the hard work was already done, that no further planning was required. But cricket is an unforgiving game, where a single misjudgment can undo an innings of brilliance. Mushfiqur’s decision to go for the glory stroke, rather than sticking to his established rhythm, cost Bangladesh the match. 

Lessons for the Future

This loss is not just a missed opportunity but a stark reminder of the importance of mental fortitude and strategic clarity in high-pressure situations. For Mushfiqur, it is an opportunity to introspect and refine his approach. For Bangladesh as a team, it underscores the need to cultivate a culture of adaptability and resilience. 

The path to becoming a consistent finisher, as Bevan demonstrated, lies in the ability to stay calm, assess the situation, and make the right decisions—even when the stakes are at their highest. Bangladesh’s journey in cricket has been marked by flashes of brilliance and moments of heartbreak. The challenge now is to learn from these experiences and ensure that close finishes become victories, not regrets. 

In the end, cricket is as much a mental game as it is a physical one. And for Mushfiqur Rahim, the next step in his evolution as a player lies in mastering the mind.

Thank You
Faisal Caesar 

Monday, July 23, 2018

A Crisis of Commitment and a Flicker of Redemption: Bangladesh Cricket’s Mixed Fortunes


 
A few days ago, the President of the Bangladesh Cricket Board (BCB) dropped a bombshell that sent shockwaves through the cricketing fraternity. In a candid interaction with the press, Nazmul Hassan alleged that senior players Shakib Al Hasan and Mustafizur Rahman were reluctant to play Test cricket. The revelation stunned reporters and reverberated across the nation, leaving fans and critics grappling with disbelief. 

In a democratic world, personal choice is sacrosanct. Yet, for professional athletes, individual preferences often collide with the greater responsibility of representing their nation. Shakib and Mustafiz, under their exceptional talent, have become icons of Bangladesh cricket. However, it is Test cricket—the sport’s most demanding and prestigious format—that has elevated Shakib to global stardom and holds the potential to do the same for Mustafiz. 

The timing of Nazmul Hassan’s statement could not have been worse. Coming on the heels of a humiliating Test series defeat against the West Indies, it further fueled doubts about the commitment and temperament of Bangladesh’s senior players. The Tigers’ spineless performances raised uncomfortable questions about their dedication to the format. While defeats are part of the game, losing without a semblance of fight is a bitter pill for fans to swallow. 

A Ray of Hope in Guyana

Just as the shadow of doubt began to engulf Bangladesh cricket, the team produced a morale-boosting victory in Guyana. The triumph, though not flawless, temporarily lifted the gloom and provided a glimmer of hope for the Tigers’ faithful. 

At the toss, West Indies captain Jason Holder expressed little concern over losing, confident that the dampness in the pitch would dissipate as the match progressed. Bangladesh’s innings began with Tamim Iqbal and Shakib Al Hasan adopting a cautious approach, their grafting partnership laying a foundation that begged for acceleration in the latter stages. 

However, it was Mushfiqur Rahim who rose to the occasion, crafting a masterful innings that demonstrated the ideal approach to batting on the surface. His knock was a blueprint of controlled aggression, transforming a middling total into a competitive one. Bangladesh finished just shy of 250—a score that, while not imposing, was defendable with disciplined bowling and fielding. 

The Bowlers Step Up

Defending the target, Bangladesh’s bowlers faced the daunting task of containing a West Indies batting lineup known for its explosive power. Mashrafe Bin Mortaza led from the front, exploiting the home side’s lack of intent with a display of guile and precision. 

While Mashrafe excelled, the rest of the attack delivered mixed performances. Mehidy Hasan Miraz and Mosaddek Hossain provided valuable support, but Shakib and Rubel Hossain struggled with their lengths, and Mustafizur Rahman appeared erratic in his early spells before regaining control towards the end. 

The West Indies’ batting effort was uncharacteristically subdued, resembling a rudderless ship adrift at sea. Their top and middle order faltered, failing to replicate the heroics of earlier matches on the same pitch. This lacklustre display ultimately handed Bangladesh a much-needed victory. 

A Fragile Redemption

While the win in Guyana offers a respite, it does not erase the underlying issues plaguing Bangladesh cricket. The doubts about the team’s consistency and commitment remain. Success, as the adage goes, has many fathers, but failure is an orphan. The Tigers’ ability to sustain the momentum from this victory will determine whether this was a turning point or merely a fleeting moment of relief. 

Bangladesh cricket stands at a crossroads. The reluctance of senior players to commit to Test cricket is a symptom of deeper structural and cultural challenges. The BCB must address these issues with urgency, fostering an environment that values Test cricket as the ultimate stage for greatness. 

For the players, especially Shakib and Mustafiz, the challenge is twofold: to honour their immense talent and to recognize the responsibility that comes with representing a Test-playing nation. The Guyana victory is a reminder that redemption is possible, but it requires sustained effort, unity, and a collective will to rise above mediocrity. 

The Tigers’ journey continues, fraught with challenges but not devoid of hope. The road ahead demands introspection, resilience, and a renewed commitment to the game’s highest ideals. Only then can Bangladesh cricket truly roar.

Thank You
Faisal Caesar

Thursday, July 19, 2018

The Flicker of Hope in Bangladesh’s Pace-Bowling Landscape: Abu Jayed’s Emergence

For the better part of the last fifteen years, the artistry of a batsman’s willow—be it a silken cover drive, a disdainful pull, or an audacious cut—has dominated the imagination of cricket fans. The focus has shifted from the menacing precision of bowlers like Wasim Akram, Waqar Younis, Curtly Ambrose, or Glenn McGrath to the elegance of stroke-makers, leaving the bowlers toil in the shadows. In Bangladesh, this shift has been even more pronounced, with the nation’s cricketing identity tethered to its spinners and sporadic batting brilliance. 

The emergence of a genuine Test-quality pace bowler in Bangladesh has always been a rare event, almost akin to finding an oasis in a desert. The tale of pace bowling in the country has largely been one of fleeting brilliance. Mashrafe Mortaza, the trailblazer, was undone by injuries. Mustafizur Rahman, the prodigy, dazzled briefly but now struggles to reclaim his magic in the longest format. The likes of Shahadat Hossain, Mohammad Shahid, Rubel Hossain, Al-Amin Hossain, and Taskin Ahmed have come and gone, leaving behind a trail of unfulfilled promises. 

In this barren landscape, the emergence of Abu Jayed Chowdhury Rahi offers a glimmer of hope. Yet, with that hope comes an undercurrent of skepticism, born from years of watching promising talents fade away. 

A Long and Arduous Journey

Jayed’s rise to the national Test side was anything but meteoric. His first-class debut in 2010 marked the beginning of a decade-long grind on the unforgiving, batting-friendly pitches of Bangladesh. While his peers like Taskin Ahmed rose swiftly through the ranks, Jayed remained on the periphery, honing his craft in obscurity. 

It wasn’t until 2018, after 1589.4 overs in 109 innings and 64 first-class matches, that Jayed finally earned his Test cap. Even then, his selection owed as much to Mustafizur Rahman’s injury as to his own perseverance. Luck, as they say, often plays a crucial role in cricket, and Jayed’s opportunity came wrapped in adversity. 

Impressions in Antigua and Jamaica

Jayed’s baptism into Test cricket came under the blazing sun of Antigua, where Bangladesh’s first innings imploded for a mere 43 runs within an hour. It was a bitter initiation, but Jayed showed resilience. On a dry wicket offering little assistance to pacers, his experience on Bangladesh’s flat domestic tracks came to the fore. 

From the outset, Jayed impressed with his ability to extract movement and consistently bowl a probing line around the fourth and fifth stump. His hallmark delivery—a full-length ball that swung back into the batsman—was a rare sight among Bangladeshi pacers, reminiscent of the skills honed by the greats of the craft. 

In the second Test at Jamaica, Jayed stepped up another gear. Bowling with increased pace and generating contrast swing, he troubled the West Indian batsmen throughout. His seven wickets in two matches at an average of 20.42 were a testament to his potential. Yet, one couldn’t help but wonder how much more impactful he might have been had he been utilized more effectively by his captain on the opening day of the second Test. 

The Legacy of Broken Promises

While Jayed’s performances have been encouraging, the history of Bangladesh cricket tempers expectations. Promising pacers have often been mishandled, their careers derailed by injuries, poor management, or a lack of support. The departures of influential figures like Chandika Hathurusingha and Heath Streak have left a void in nurturing and guiding young talents. 

Jayed’s journey has already shown his resilience, but sustaining success in Test cricket requires more than individual grit. The Bangladesh Cricket Board must shield him from the toxic elements of the cricketing ecosystem—hype, mismanagement, and the temptation to prioritize shorter formats over the rigours of Test cricket. 

A Glimpse into the Future

Jayed’s story is still in its early chapters, but it offers a blueprint for what Bangladesh can achieve with proper planning and investment in pace bowling. His ability to move the ball both ways, maintain a disciplined line, and adapt to different conditions marks him as a rare talent in the country’s cricketing history. 

However, potential is merely the starting point. Jayed’s challenge will be to stay grounded, continue refining his craft, and avoid the pitfalls that have claimed so many of his predecessors. Equally, the Bangladesh cricketing hierarchy must commit to a long-term vision for pace bowling, providing Jayed and others like him with the resources, mentorship, and opportunities they need to thrive. 

In Abu Jayed, Bangladesh has a flicker of hope. Whether that flicker turns into a lasting flame will depend on the collective will of the player, the management, and the cricketing fraternity. For now, Jayed stands as a reminder that amid the dominance of willow-wielders, the art of pace bowling still has a place in the game—and in the hearts of those who cherish its timeless allure. 

Thank You

Faisal Caesar  

Wednesday, July 18, 2018

WG Grace

WG Grace stands not merely as a legend but as a towering figure whose shadow stretches across the annals of cricketing history. Even among the pantheon of the sport’s immortals, Grace occupies a rarefied space—a colossus among giants, whose presence transcended the boundaries of the 22-yard pitch and etched itself indelibly into the cultural fabric of Victorian England.

In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, Grace was a figure of such renown that only Queen Victoria, adorned in her royal regalia, or perhaps the statesman William Gladstone, rivalled his recognizability. Yet, for the cricket-loving populace, Grace reigned supreme. He was not merely a cricketer; he was a symbol, an institution, and an embodiment of the sport itself. Trains paused for his farewells, porters abandoned their duties for a handshake, and throngs gathered for a fleeting glimpse of the man whose stature, both literal and metaphorical, seemed almost mythic.

Grace’s beard, a luxuriant and unmistakable cascade, became a metaphor for his dominance—a singular feature in an era when facial hair was a badge of masculinity. Even amidst the verdant thickets of Victorian beards, Grace’s stood apart, much like his unparalleled achievements with the bat. The anecdote of Ernie Jones bowling through that bushy marvel, only to apologize with characteristic humour, epitomizes the blend of reverence and levity that Grace inspired.

The aura surrounding Grace often threatens to overshadow the man himself and his extraordinary cricketing feats. His presence on the field was so magnetic that ticket prices doubled when he played—a testament to his singular ability to captivate audiences. As GK Chesterton aptly remarked, Grace was a “prodigious Puck,” a sprite of English cricket whose exploits transformed the sport from a rudimentary pastime into a symphonic art form. He took the one-stringed lute of early cricket and fashioned it into a many-chorded lyre, enriching the game with his innovation and mastery.

The Grace legacy was deeply rooted in Gloucestershire, a county forever associated with his name. It was here, at Downend, that Dr. Henry Mills Grace, WG’s father, established a home and a cricketing dynasty. Martha Grace, WG’s formidable mother, was no passive observer. A towering figure in her own right, she oversaw the cricketing education of her sons with a discerning eye and an unwavering commitment. Her scrapbooks chronicling their careers were no mere mementoes; they were comprehensive records rivalling Wisden in their detail and precision. Her death, marked by the poignant interruption of a match at Old Trafford, underscored her irreplaceable role in the family’s cricketing ascendancy.

WG’s early years were shaped by a rigorous regimen at The Chestnuts, the family home, where cricket was both a pastime and a profession. Under the tutelage of Uncle Alfred Pocock, young WG honed his skills alongside his brothers. The Grace sisters and even the family dogs—Don, Ponto, and Noble—played their part, with Ponto’s fielding skills earning a place in cricketing lore. Such was the cradle of cricketing excellence that nurtured the prodigious talents of WG and his siblings, including the tragically short-lived Fred Grace, whose brilliance was extinguished too soon.

The Graceful Grace: Unfolding of A Legend

The mythology of WG Grace often obscures the reality of his achievements, but a closer examination reveals a cricketer of unparalleled skill and vision. He was not merely a product of his time but a revolutionary who reshaped the game’s contours. To understand Grace is to grasp not just the man but the epoch he defined—a golden age of cricket illuminated by his genius and sustained by his legacy.

The story of WG Grace begins in a cricketing milieu already rich with tradition, where the All England Elevens occasionally graced Downend, pitting their illustrious skills against local teams of twenty-two. The likes of George Parr, William Caffyn, and Julius Caesar brought the grandeur of the wider cricketing world to the small town. Even Alfred Mynn, the genial titan whose exploits had once dominated the cricketing landscape, stood as an umpire during one such encounter. These visits, steeped in cricketing lore, left an indelible mark on the young Graces, particularly EM and WG.

It was during one of these matches that William Clarke, impressed by young EM’s deft work as a long-stop, gifted him a bat with a spliced handle reinforced by whalebone—a symbolic passing of the torch to the next generation. For WG, the journey to greatness began with rigorous training, and hours spent at the wicket honing the straight bat, a skill he mastered before reaching double digits in age. Under the watchful eye of Uncle Alfred Pocock, WG internalized the mantra: “Do not allow the bowler to stick you up, or it is all over with you.”Decades later, Grace would reinterpret this wisdom with characteristic flair, proclaiming, “Get at the beggar before he gets at you.”

WG’s formative years were not without tribulation. At 15, he suffered a life-threatening bout of pneumonia, a moment that could have altered the trajectory of cricket history. His recovery marked the beginning of a transformation—he grew into a towering figure, surpassing six feet, with a physique that set him apart from his brothers, who were shorter and stockier. WG’s burgeoning athleticism extended beyond cricket; he excelled in 440-yard hurdles, clocking an impressive 70 seconds at Crystal Palace—a testament to his versatility and physical prowess.

By the time WG entered First-Class cricket, EM had already established himself as a formidable batsman, crafty lob bowler, and the finest point fielder of his era. Yet, WG’s arrival heralded a seismic shift in the game. Tales of his exploits spread rapidly, and his name became synonymous with dominance.

Bridging the Chasm: WG Grace and the Redefinition of Cricket

WG Grace’s career, spanning four decades, is a chronicle of sustained brilliance punctuated by brief dips and culminating in a remarkable resurgence in his late forties. His impact was immediate and transformative, particularly in the storied Gentlemen vs. Players matches. Before WG’s arrival, the Gentlemen had managed only seven victories in 27 years, often outclassed by the Professionals’ superior bowling, especially their fast bowlers like George “Tear ‘em” Tarrant and James Jackson. The amateurs, with their genteel batting, often crumbled on difficult wickets.

WG changed this dynamic entirely. A player of rare versatility, he thrived against the fiercest pace, combining staunch defence with audacious stroke play. Over the next 18 years, the Players managed only seven wins, a reversal that underscored WG’s influence. His batting prowess tilted the scales, and his cunning bowling further decimated the Professionals. WG was, in essence, a professional in spirit, cloaked in the guise of an amateur—a reality that both enhanced his legend and provoked controversy.

The Chasm of Excellence: WG and His Contemporaries

From 1868 to 1877, WG’s dominance was unprecedented. He not only topped the batting averages year after year but often doubled the output of the next-best batsman. In an era where cricket was still evolving, WG’s all-around mastery created an enormous gulf between himself and his peers. Even in 1875, a year he deemed “mediocre,” he finished second in averages while leading in aggregate runs—a performance that would have been a career highlight for most others.

This statistical supremacy reflected not just skill but a profound understanding of the game. WG’s ability to adapt—whether playing on sticky wickets or against fiery bowlers—set him apart. He brought a professional rigour to cricket that belied the amateur ethos of the time, elevating the sport from a pastime to a spectacle of skill and strategy.

Legacy Beyond Numbers

WG Grace was more than a cricketer; he was a cultural phenomenon. His towering frame, flowing beard, and unparalleled achievements made him a figure of almost mythical proportions. Yet, behind the legend lay a man whose work ethic, innovation, and competitive spirit reshaped cricket. WG did not merely dominate his era; he defined it, setting standards that would influence generations to come.

To analyze WG’s career is to understand the transformative power of genius in sports. He bridged divides—between Gentlemen and Players, between tradition and modernity—and left a legacy that continues to resonate. WG Grace was not just the best of his time; he was a harbinger of what cricket could become.

WG Grace: The Colossus of Cricket’s Golden Age 

The dry, sunlit summer of 1871 marked the beginning of WG Grace’s unparalleled dominance in cricket, a period widely regarded as the zenith of his career. That season, he amassed 2,739 runs at an astounding average of 78.25, a figure that dwarfed the second-best, Richard Daft, who managed 37.66. Grace’s 10 centuries that year stood in stark contrast to the mere two scored by any other batsman. His consistency was such that a rare failure in one innings was often promptly rectified by a commanding hundred in the next. His contributions were often so significant that they seemed to constitute the entirety of his team’s efforts, underscoring his singular brilliance. 

By 1876, the peak of his career, Grace’s dominance had reached mythical proportions. Contemporary observers remarked, “Modern cricket seems to have resolved itself into a match between Mr Grace on one side and the bowling strength of England on the other.”* During one extraordinary week in August, he produced a series of performances that seemed almost supernatural: 344 for MCC at Canterbury, followed by 177 at Clifton, and culminating in an unbeaten 318 at Cheltenham for Gloucestershire. These feats, performed with a majestic beard that had become his signature, cemented his status as a living legend. 

Master of Both Bat and Ball 

Grace’s all-around prowess was unparalleled. Over his career, he scored 1,000 or more runs in 28 seasons and exceeded 2,000 on five occasions. While his batting achievements are rightly celebrated, his bowling was equally formidable. In 1867, he topped the bowling averages, and during his peak years—1874, 1875, and 1877—he took the most wickets in addition to dominating with the bat. Over nine seasons, he claimed more than 100 wickets, a testament to his versatility and endurance. 

At his best, Grace was not only the finest batsman the game had seen but also one of its most effective bowlers. Few could rival his all-around contributions, and none could match his ability to single-handedly dictate the outcome of matches. 

The Challenge of Fred Spofforth 

By 1878, Grace had married, become a father, and completed his medical degree, following in the footsteps of his father and brothers. His cricketing commitments waned temporarily, but the arrival of Fred Spofforth, the Australian “Demon Bowler,” rekindled his competitive fire. Spofforth, unawed by Grace’s towering reputation, dismissed him twice at Lord’s in 1878, leading to a rare defeat for MCC. English bowlers often joked that Grace should use a smaller bat to level the playing field, but Spofforth thrived on the challenge of bowling to the great man. This rivalry spurred Grace to new heights, including a magnificent 152 on his Test debut in 1880, the first Test ever played in England. 

The Summer in the Subcontinent of a Cricketing Titan 

By the 1890s, Grace’s expanding girth and fondness for food and whiskey began to tell on his physique, yet his appetite for runs remained insatiable. The year 1895, when he was 47, marked the Indian summer of his career. He scored 2,346 runs at an average of 51.00, including nine centuries. The following year, he added another 2,135 runs at 42.00. These achievements, at an age when most cricketers had long retired, reinforced his reputation as a timeless phenomenon. 

Even as his dominance waned with the emergence of new talents like Arthur Shrewsbury, Grace remained the cornerstone of English cricket. Until 1899, it was unthinkable to form an England XI without him. His final Test innings, shared with the youthful CB Fry, was marked by a wry acknowledgement of his advancing years: *“Remember, I am not a sprinter like you.”* Yet, Grace continued to play domestic cricket, scoring his last First-Class century the day after his 56th birthday. 

The Indomitable Spirit 

In 1888, Archibald Stuart Wortley captured Grace in a portrait that remains displayed in the Long Room at Lord’s. The painting depicts him with bronzed cheeks, a bushy beard, and a stance both balanced and poised for attack. When asked if he would appear as composed in a tight situation, Grace replied with characteristic confidence:“Certainly, because after all I should only be facing the next ball.”

This philosophy epitomized Grace’s approach to the game. Over his career, he scored 54,211 First-Class runs at an average of 39.25, including 124 centuries. These numbers, remarkable in any era, are even more extraordinary when contextualized within the challenges of 19th-century cricket: treacherous pitches, rudimentary equipment, and the necessity to run every single run, even for boundaries. 

Grace’s batting was not marked by the elegance of Victor Trumper or the finesse of KS Ranjitsinhji. He lacked the clinical precision of Jack Hobbs or the explosive power of Gilbert Jessop. Yet, his influence on the game was unparalleled. As Ranjitsinhji observed, *“He turned batting’s many straight channels into one great winding river.”

Grace was a pioneer who redefined cricket, elevating it from a pastime to a profession. His monumental presence at the crease, his strategic acumen, and his indefatigable energy made him the first true superstar of the sport. While others have surpassed his records, few have matched his impact. WG Grace remains not just a figure in cricket history but a symbol of its enduring spirit. 

The Synthesis of Styles and Master of All 

WG Grace was not merely a cricketer; he was a phenomenon, a synthesis of every batting style known to his era, and the progenitor of several yet to come. His batting repertoire encompassed the full spectrum of strokes—forward and back, off-side and leg-side, horizontal bat and vertical blade. His ability to hit all around the wicket, often for hours on end without a hint of fatigue, was unmatched. Among his innovations was a hard, straight-batted push to leg, a stroke uniquely his own. Grace himself summed up his philosophy succinctly: *“I don’t like defensive strokes; you can only get three off them.”

Though regarded as a relentless accumulator rather than a flamboyant hitter, his approach was anything but passive. Leaving balls alone—a virtue in the modern game—was anathema to his mindset. Parson Wickham, who once kept wicket during a monumental Grace innings, recalled that WG let only four balls pass untouched throughout the marathon effort, each strike connecting cleanly with the middle of the bat. When the Australians in 1884 accused the English of using bats wider than the rules permitted, Grace’s response was characteristically dismissive: “I don’t care how much they shave off my bat, as long as they leave the middle.”

The Nightmare of Fielding Captains 

Setting a field for WG was an exercise in futility. Accustomed to playing against odds—teams with 18 or even 22 fielders—he found gaps with almost supernatural ease when facing the standard eleven. Captains shuffled their fielders incessantly, only to watch the ball race through the very spot just vacated. Professional bowlers often celebrated his dismissal with unrestrained joy. Tom Emmett, after missing a caught-and-bowled chance, famously flung his cap to the ground in frustration and kicked the ball to the boundary. Grace, ever the wit, encouraged him: *“Kick it again, Tom; it’s always four to me.”* 

His technique was a study in adaptability. With weight distributed primarily on his right foot, he could effortlessly move back and cut deliveries others would tackle on the front foot. Fast and medium pacers, whom he respected yet relished, bore the brunt of his attacking instincts. Fred Morley, one of the fastest bowlers of his time, once saw two of his fiery deliveries hooked for sixes over WG’s eyebrows. On venomous wickets, Grace was at his indomitable best, earning applause at Lord’s for halting four consecutive shooters with ease.

Grace’s resilience extended beyond his physical prowess. On one occasion, after being struck painfully by a slinging delivery from Jack Crossland, he limped to the boundary, calmed the enraged spectators, and then returned to the crease to dismantle Crossland’s attack with a ruthless hundred. His ability to counter adversity, whether from the bowler’s hand or the pitch’s treachery, exemplified his mental fortitude. 

Critics have speculated whether Grace’s dominance would have persisted in the modern era of restrictive field placements and tactical bowling. Yet, it is hard to imagine his genius constrained by any era. A brief frown and a thoughtful tug at his beard might have preceded his adjustments, but the gaps would surely have revealed themselves, and the runs would have flowed, as they always did. Genius, after all, transcends time. 

The Deceptive Art of His Bowling 

While Grace is celebrated primarily as a batsman, his bowling was no mere accessory. In his youth, he bowled a round-arm medium pace that evolved into a slower, craftier style as he aged. His approach was disarmingly straightforward, yet his deliveries were imbued with guile that confounded even the best batsmen. Bob Thomas, a veteran umpire, once remarked that if Grace had not been the greatest batsman, he might well have been the greatest bowler—a claim perhaps exaggerated but not without merit. 

Grace’s bowling statistics speak volumes: 2,809 First-Class wickets at an average of 18.14, including 240 five-wicket hauls and 64 ten-wicket matches. Such figures demand more than luck; they reflect a deep understanding of batsmen’s weaknesses and an ability to exploit them. His bowling style, characterized by a looping trajectory and deceptive flight, lured many into ill-advised strokes. Even when his bulk swayed the ball into an unintentional googly, the results were often devastating. 

In 1877, against Nottinghamshire, he captured 17 wickets in a single match, including seven dismissals in 17 balls without conceding a run. These were not the fortuitous spoils of erratic bowling but the calculated victories of a bowler who understood the psychology of his opponents. 

The Mentor and Sportsman 

Grace’s competitive spirit was tempered by a magnanimous heart. When a young batsman faced him, Grace would often murmur, “I’ll get you out, boy.” And when he inevitably did, he was just as likely to invite the crestfallen youth to the nets the next morning for a lesson on how to play the very ball that had dismissed him. This duality—ruthless on the field yet generous off it—cemented his status not just as a cricketer but as a mentor and ambassador of the game. 

Sometimes his medical methods were rather unusual. When a drunken sweep stinking of beer demanded a tonic, WG responded, “What you need lad is exercise and not medicine.” Following this, he called out to his maid, “Mary, fetch my boxing gloves.” The patient rushed out, completely cured, screaming, “The great big b***** wants to fight me!”

FS Ashley Cooper said of his friend, “For years after he left Bristol, poor people would relate how, after a tiring day in the field, he would visit them, not in a professional capacity, but as a friend, doing much to alleviate pain and spread cheerfulness.”

WG’s treatment was often carried out on the cricket field. Joe Hadow made a running catch at deep square leg to dismiss WG and stumbled forward to hit his head against the projecting metal edge of a stand. WG, on his way back to the pavilion, administered first aid with gentle firmness reserved for someone who had made a catch of a genuine six-hit.

More significantly, WG saved the life of old Gloucestershire cricketer and cricket writer ACM Croome in 1887. Croome gashed his throat against one of the spiked railings in front of the pavilion of Old Trafford and the cut was deep and potentially fatal. WG held the jagged edges of the wound together for nearly half an hour as messengers scurried to find surgical needles. WG had been bowling all day but for his stamina and nerve, it would have been near impossible to keep holding the position without twitching his finger or thumb.

There were occasions when he remained up all night with a difficult case and returned to the ground the next morning to hit a hundred or pick up a bushel of wickets. And as in his own chamber, sometimes the methods of medical practice on the field were slightly unorthodox. Kent amateur CJM Fox stooped sharply to field a hard hit, overbalanced, and put his shoulder out in the fall. EM ran to him, signalling to the pavilion. WG bustled out and for the next few minutes, the crowd were treated to a peculiar scene. EM sat on the unfortunate lad’s head as WG grabbed his arm and began to pull, with his foot as a fulcrum.  After a terrible and painful pause, a loud crack was heard and the shoulder went back into place. “You’re a very lucky young man,” WG exclaimed while leaving the field.

The Complete Cricketer and Compassionate Healer 

WG Grace was a man of many facets, each more fascinating than the last. As a young man, he was an exceptional outfielder, his athleticism rivalling the best of his time. While he excelled as a cover-point early in his career, he later gravitated toward the point position, not just for its strategic advantages but also for the psychological edge it afforded. Grace relished the opportunity to chatter incessantly to the batsman, employing a mix of wit, guile, and gamesmanship to unsettle his opponent. 

His throwing arm was a marvel of precision and power, particularly in his youth. His throws from the deep were swift and accurate, often delivered on the run with a bowler-like action. During the Australian Aboriginal cricket team’s tour in 1868, Grace triumphed in a throwing competition, hurling the ball distances of 116, 117, and 118 yards at The Oval. At Eastbourne, he achieved an astonishing 122 yards, a testament to his raw athleticism. 

While his agility waned with age, his hands remained as sharp as ever. A contemporary journalist, chronicling his American tour, noted that the ball seemed “fascinated by Mr. Grace’s basilisk eye, for it seems to jump into his hand.” Even as his frame grew bulkier, his fielding instincts and reflexes did not diminish. 

Master of All Trades in the Field 

Grace’s versatility in the field was extraordinary. Although he preferred point to slip—a position he disliked—he occasionally donned the wicketkeeping gloves when necessity demanded. While his brother EM was often considered the better fielder in the family, WG was not far behind. He was particularly brilliant when fielding off his own bowling, charging to positions like silly mid-off to pull off catches of remarkable brilliance. 

One story encapsulates his fielding prowess and indomitable spirit. Bowling a flighted delivery on the leg stump, he lured the batsman into a towering shot toward square leg. Grace, with the urgency of a raging bison, sprinted diagonally across the field, warning the stationed fielder to stand clear, and completed a stunning catch at full gallop. The batsman, departing in disbelief, was heard muttering, “That chap won’t be satisfied till he’s keeping wickets to his bowling.” 

WG’s tally of 876 catches in First-Class cricket is second only to Frank Woolley’s, a testament to his enduring skill and opportunism. His craft extended beyond athleticism to an almost Machiavellian cunning. The infamous run-out of Sammy Jones in the 1882 Test—while Jones was distractedly gardening—illustrates his sharp mind and willingness to exploit any lapse in concentration. Grace defended his actions as a lesson to the younger player, though Fred Spofforth’s subsequent bowling rampage and the birth of the Ashes added a touch of irony to the episode. 

Revered by Peers and Rivals 

Grace’s greatness was universally acknowledged, even by his fiercest competitors. When a comparison was drawn between him and Billy Murdoch, Alec Bannerman dismissed the notion with disdain: “Murdoch? Why, WG has forgotten more than Billy ever learnt.” Murdoch himself offered an earthy yet profound tribute: “WG should never be put underground. When he dies, his body ought to be embalmed and permanently exhibited in the British Museum as ‘the colossal cricketer of all time.’”

The Doctor with a Big Heart 

Beyond the cricket field, WG Grace was a physician who embodied compassion and community spirit. Though he did not pursue his medical diploma with the same fervour as his centuries, he fulfilled his duties with dedication and empathy. As a parish doctor in Bristol, serving a largely working-class community, Grace often treated patients without demanding payment. His rounds through the streets, clad in a rough tweed suit, were marked by acts of kindness—whether pausing to chat with children, providing coal to a family in need, or browbeating friends into offering employment to the jobless. 

Grace’s generosity extended beyond medicine. If a patient’s home smelled of brewing soup, he would sometimes stay for dinner, blending seamlessly into the family’s routine. In winter, he became a favourite target for children’s snowballs. Yet, even in play, Grace’s competitive spirit shone through; his pickups were swift, his throws accurate, and his retaliation ensured the young pranksters received a taste of their own medicine. 

The Colossal Cricketer 

Grace’s life was a seamless blend of cricketing genius and human compassion. CB Fry once quipped that WG was the only man to receive a medical degree for his operations on the cricket field—a jest that underscored his dominance in both realms. Whether mesmerizing batsmen with his bowling, orchestrating catches with surgical precision, or tending to the sick with selfless dedication, Grace was a man whose impact transcended the boundaries of sport. 

His legacy endures not merely in the records he set or the matches he won but in the ethos, he embodied: a relentless pursuit of excellence, a love for the game, and a profound humanity that endeared him to all who crossed his path. To call him the “colossal cricketer” is to capture only a fraction of his greatness. WG Grace was, and remains, a towering figure in the annals of cricket and life. 

The Legend, the Lore, and the Laughter 

WG Grace, the towering figure of cricket’s golden age, is as much a product of historical fact as of the vibrant folklore that surrounds him. Stories about him blur the line between reality and myth, creating a rich tapestry of anecdotes that are as entertaining as they are revealing of the man behind the legend. 

Did Grace really tell an umpire that the crowd had come to watch him bat, not to see umpiring decisions? Did he replace the dislodged bails and continue batting, dismissing the moment as if it had never happened? Did he attribute fallen bails to a “strong westerly” wind? And did he nonchalantly grunt “The Lady” when the opposition captain spun the coin, choosing to bat regardless of whether Queen Victoria or Britannia graced the toss? 

The truth of these tales is elusive. Too much time has passed, and the factual fragments are inseparably intertwined with the apocryphal enormity of Grace’s mythos. Yet, these stories endure, told and retold with the knowing caveat: “Just the sort of thing the Old Man would have done.” 

The Wit and Wisdom of the Great Cricketer 

Grace’s contemporaries were quick to recognize—and immortalize—his dominance on the field. Yorkshireman Tom Emmett, weary of Grace’s relentless scoring, quipped, “It’s Grace before meat, Grace after meat, Grace all day, and I reckon it’ll be Grace tomorrow.”

Nottinghamshire’s James Shaw echoed the sentiment: “I puts them where I likes, but that beggar, he puts them where he likes.”

Grace himself was not one for intellectual pretensions or veiled humour. His wit, when it surfaced, was simple and direct. When a young batsman boasted he had never been dismissed for a duck, Grace dryly assigned him the No. 11 spot, remarking, “No blob, eh? Then No. 11 for you. Not enough experience.”

This simplicity extended to his cricketing philosophy. Asked how to deal with a difficult ball, his advice was straightforward and timeless: “I should lay the bat against the ball.”

In this unadorned wisdom lies a metaphor for life itself. 

Master of the Rules—and Their Limits 

Grace was as much a master of cricket’s rules as he was of stretching them to their limits. He famously “educated” umpires, often with a wink, ensuring that their interpretations aligned with his own. A typical lesson might involve him admonishing an official: “If he catches me after the ball has gone out of the ground, it’s six to me.”

Francis Thompson aptly described Grace as,“The long-whiskered Doctor that laugheth the rules to scorn.”

Yet, Grace’s bending of the rules was often more playful than pernicious. His brother EM, in contrast, was known for more dubious tactics, such as appealing for obstruction when struck by a batsman’s follow-through. WG, with his disdain for such trickery, reportedly advised, “Obstruction be blown. Catch the ball and never mind bamboozling the umpire.”

Fact, Fiction, and the Power of Story 

Among the many tales of Grace, one stands out for its theatricality. After being clean bowled by Charles Kortright, the fast bowler allegedly remarked, *“Surely you’re not going, Doctor. There’s one stump still standing.”* Whether this exchange occurred or was a creation of Kortright’s imagination, it remains an enduring part of Grace’s lore. 

Grace himself was not immune to barbs. Once, when he intervened in a street cricket game to rule a boy leg-before, the lad retorted, *“Garn! What’s an old buffer like you know about cricket?”* Another time, a servant girl visiting Madame Tussaud’s told him she hadn’t seen his wax figure because it was in the Chamber of Horrors, which required an extra fee. 

The Man Behind the Myth 

Grace’s artfulness on the cricket field was matched by his shrewdness off it. Often accused of “shamateurism,” he navigated the blurred lines between amateurism and professionalism with a countryman’s pragmatism. His infamous attempt to poach Billy Midwinter from the Australian team to play for Gloucestershire may not have been entirely ethical, but it lacked malice. 

At his core, Grace was a man of simplicity and humour, as exemplified by his handling of a tramp caught raiding his larder. After dressing the man’s wounds—“Medical etiquette,” he explained—Grace delivered a running kick and let him go, an act that was equal parts justice and jest. 

The End of an Era 

In his later years, Grace remained a beloved figure, his presence at public events or even a fleeting glimpse of him in a car enough to bring life to a standstill. His simplicity and humanity endeared him to all, even as the world around him grew increasingly complex. 

The outbreak of World War I deeply saddened Grace, a man who struggled to reconcile the senselessness of the conflict with his own straightforward worldview. Cricket historian Derek Birley captured the poignancy of his passing in October 1915, writing: “The bleakness of the war was exemplified by the death of Grace, which seemed depressingly emblematic of the end of an era.”

A Legacy Beyond Compare 

WG Grace’s life and career defy easy categorization. He was a cricketer, a doctor, a humorist, and a legend whose stories continue to captivate. Whether fact or fiction, the tales of his exploits reveal a man whose influence transcended the sport he so thoroughly dominated. Grace remains not just a figure in cricket’s history but a symbol of its enduring spirit—a blend of skill, wit, and humanity that continues to inspire. 

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

Sunday, July 15, 2018

Shakib Al Hasan’s Brilliance Overshadowed by Bangladesh’s Batting Collapse



 The ninth over of Day 2 saw a moment of brilliance that encapsulated Shakib Al Hasan’s enduring genius. Bowling from wide of the crease, he delivered a flighted, well-paced delivery that broke through Kraigg Brathwaite’s stubborn defence. It was vintage Shakib—a dismissal that reminded critics why he remains Bangladesh’s finest cricketer. 

The following day, Shakib carried that momentum into a spell of ruthless precision, dismantling the West Indies’ middle order with clinical efficiency. His mastery of length—flighting the ball just enough to entice and deceive—proved too much for the hosts. 

Devon Smith was lured forward by a teasing delivery, only to be stumped, while Keemo Paul fell prey to a similar trap. Kieran Powell, fighting to stem the collapse, was undone by Shakib’s trademark quicker one, trapped plumb in front. 

The skipper’s six-wicket haul was a masterclass in Test match bowling, supported ably by Abu Jayed, Taijul Islam, and Mehidy Hasan Miraz. Together, they skittled the West Indies for 129 in their second innings, leaving Bangladesh with a chaseable target of 335 on a pitch that, while challenging, was far from unplayable. 

Yet, what followed was a disheartening display of ineptitude and lack of application from Bangladesh’s batters, culminating in a humiliating defeat within three days. 

A Familiar Story: Batting Failures and Poor Temperament

Bangladesh’s response to the target was a stark reminder of their long-standing batting frailties. While Shakib fought valiantly, crafting a half-century, his efforts were solitary. The rest of the lineup folded meekly, displaying neither the intent nor the resilience required in Test cricket. 

Tamim Iqbal’s post-match reflection was telling:  “We only have ourselves to blame. Our batting was not up to the mark. These were difficult wickets but not unplayable. Exceptional deliveries got us out, but not enough to justify failing to cross 200 in any innings.”

The numbers were damning. Bangladesh’s collective batting average for the series was a paltry 12.60—their lowest ever. Not a single batsman managed a century across four innings. The top order showed glimpses of promise but lacked the temperament to convert starts into meaningful contributions. 

Selection Missteps and Positional Confusion

The team’s struggles were compounded by puzzling selection decisions. The choice to open with Liton Das was baffling. A natural middle-order batsman and wicketkeeper, Liton was thrust into an unfamiliar role, exposing his vulnerabilities against the new ball. 

Imrul Kayes’s absence due to injury was unfortunate, but Bangladesh’s failure to field a proper replacement highlighted a lack of depth and planning. Liton, ideally suited for the lower middle order, was miscast, while Mushfiqur Rahim—relieved of wicketkeeping duties to focus on his batting—was inexplicably slotted at six instead of his preferred four or five. 

Similarly, Mahmudullah Riyad, who had previously thrived at number four, was used as a floater. This positional uncertainty reflected a broader lack of strategy and cohesion in Bangladesh’s approach. 

The inclusion of Nurul Hasan, despite his lack of readiness for Test cricket, was another questionable decision. Hyped by sections of the local media, Nurul’s sloppy wicketkeeping and ineffective batting underscored the dangers of selecting players based on reputation rather than readiness. 

The Senior Players’ Disappointing Show

The experienced campaigners, Mahmudullah and Mominul Haque delivered dismal performances. Scoring just 19 and 16 runs respectively across the series, their technical fragilities were ruthlessly exposed by the West Indies pacers. 

Their failures were particularly damaging given the lack of contributions from the younger players. In a format that demands patience and adaptability, the senior players’ inability to lead by example left Bangladesh rudderless. 

Lessons to Learn and a Path Forward 

There is no shame in losing a match, but the manner of defeat matters. Bangladesh’s lack of fight and repeated mistakes were deeply disappointing. Test cricket rewards persistence, discipline, and adaptability—qualities that were glaringly absent in the Tigers’ performance. 

The team must revisit its fundamentals. Selection should prioritize readiness and role-specific expertise rather than hype or reputation. Players like Liton Das and Nurul Hasan need to be utilized in roles that suit their strengths. Senior players must step up, not just with the bat but as leaders in attitude and application. 

Bangladesh could also benefit from reconnecting with past mentors like Chandika Hathurusingha, whose Sri Lanka team has shown resilience and fights even in adverse conditions. 

As the dust settles on this series, one thing is clear: Bangladesh has the talent to compete at the highest level, but without the right mindset and preparation, that potential will remain unrealized. The Tigers must rise from this debacle, learning not just from their mistakes but from the examples of teams that thrive under pressure. Only then can they hope to carve a place for themselves in the annals of Test cricket.  

Thank You
Faisal Caesar

Saturday, July 14, 2018

Bangladesh’s Batting Woes Continue: A Test of Temperament in Jamaica

The morning session in Jamaica began with a glimmer of hope for Bangladesh. Liton Kumar Das, brimming with confidence, signalled his intent early on. A crisply timed stroke through the offside off Shannon Gabriel and a glorious extra-cover drive against Keemo Paul hinted at a positive approach. By lunch, the Tigers seemed to have clawed back into the game, buoyed by their bowlers’ disciplined effort to wrap up the West Indies innings. 

However, as the adage goes, “A good start is only half the battle.” The real challenge lay ahead. 

The Liton Dilemma: Aggression Without Application

Post-lunch, Bangladesh’s batting needed discipline—a shift from the Twenty20 instincts to the grind of Test cricket. Liton, facing Keemo Paul, initially showed glimpses of restraint, leaving deliveries outside the off-stump. Yet, his eagerness to play expansive shots betrayed a lack of temperament required for the longest format. 

Gabriel, a seasoned campaigner, sensed Liton’s impatience. A sharp delivery angled in from a short-of-a-length caught Liton off guard, trapping him plumb in front. The dismissal was a textbook example of poor shot selection—a flick attempted when a solid defensive approach was the need of the hour. 

Liton’s downfall underscored a recurring issue: the inability to adapt aggression to the demands of Test cricket. 

Mominul’s Carbon Copy Dismissal

Mominul Haque once hailed as Bangladesh’s Test specialist, walked in under pressure. His dismissal mirrored his first Test woes—a closed face against an angled delivery from Gabriel. This technical flaw, previously attributed to external coaching strategies, now seemed more intrinsic. 

The absence of Chandika Hathurusingha once blamed for Mominul’s struggles, raised uncomfortable questions about the player’s ability to learn and adapt. The so-called local solutions seemed ineffective, leaving Bangladesh’s middle order vulnerable yet again. 

Shakib and Tamim: A Partnership Without Purpose

With two wickets down, Bangladesh needed their senior players to steady the ship. Shakib Al Hasan and Tamim Iqbal stitched together a 59-run partnership, but it lacked the hallmarks of a proper Test innings. Boundaries flowed, but strike rotation—a crucial aspect of building pressure and tiring bowlers—was conspicuously absent. 

Jason Holder, the West Indies skipper, persisted with disciplined lines, knowing Shakib’s penchant for risky strokes. The gamble paid off. In the 24th over, Shakib misjudged a delivery he had previously dispatched, slicing it straight to the fielder. The captain’s dismissal, a loose shot against the run of play, highlighted a lack of focus and the tendency to repeat mistakes—a cardinal sin in Test cricket. 

The Collapse: A Familiar Tale

Shakib’s departure triggered a collapse. Mahmudullah Riyad, shuffling across his crease, fell lbw to a straight delivery—an example of flawed technique against pace. Tamim, who had shown intent to occupy the crease, succumbed to an angled delivery from Keemo Paul. 

Mushfiqur Rahim, often the savior in crises, batted with a reckless abandon more suited to limited-overs cricket. His brief stay at the crease was punctuated by boundaries but lacked the solidity needed to anchor the innings. A lazy jab at a short-of-a-length ball ended his resistance, leaving Bangladesh in dire straits. 

Nurul Hasan, touted as a promising talent, failed to deliver under pressure. A golden duck added to the misery, while Mehidy Hasan Miraz’s stay lasted just twelve balls. 

A Score Fit for T20, Not Tests

Bangladesh’s innings folded for under 150—a total more fitting for a Twenty20 match than a five-day contest. The inability to adjust to the demands of Test cricket was glaring. Poor shot selection, technical deficiencies, and a lack of mental resilience combined to script yet another batting debacle. 

Lessons to Learn, Changes to Make

Test cricket demands patience, application, and adaptability—qualities that seemed in short supply for Bangladesh in Jamaica. While the bowlers had shown fight in the morning, their efforts were squandered by a batting lineup unwilling or unable to grind it out. 

The Tigers must introspect. Senior players like Shakib and Mushfiqur need to lead by example while promising talents like Liton and Nurul must learn to temper aggression with discipline. The road ahead is long, but without fundamental changes in approach, Bangladesh risks repeating the same mistakes. 

As the sun set on Day 2, one thing was clear: the Tigers have the talent, but without the temperament, they will continue to struggle in the purest format of the game.

Thank You
Faisal Caesar 

Abu Jayed and Mehidy Hasan Miraz: The Architects of Bangladesh’s Day 2 Revival


In cricket, young pacers who understand the art of pitching it full and shaping the ball back at a consistent pace are invaluable assets. They embody resilience, running tirelessly even when the odds seem insurmountable, experimenting with angles and lengths in pursuit of breakthroughs. These bowlers often dismantle the most resolute defences and break partnerships, laying the foundation for their teammates to capitalize. 

For Bangladesh, Abu Jayed is one such bowler. Yet, his potential was underutilized on Day 1, leaving many to wonder why a talent of his calibre wasn’t given the ball earlier. 

But Day 2 in Jamaica told a different story—a tale of redemption and resurgence. 

The West Indies resumed their innings with Shimron Hetmyer and Roston Chase, both eager to pile on the misery for the visitors. The lacklustre bowling from the previous day likely emboldened the duo, but what greeted them on Day 2 was a transformed Bangladesh attack. 

Abu Jayed, the young seamer, took centre stage, defying the oppressive heat and humidity with a spirited spell of fast-medium bowling. He hit ideal lengths consistently—back of a length and full deliveries aimed with precision—and maintained a steady pace around 80 mph. It was this consistency, combined with his ability to move the ball, that made Jayed a different bowler altogether. 

Jayed struck early, dismissing the dangerous Hetmyer with a sharp delivery that leapt off a length outside off stump, forcing an edge. Shortly after, Chase fell victim to a full delivery angled in, trapped plumb in front. The two set batsmen, who had looked poised to build a commanding total, were sent back to the pavilion, leaving the West Indies rattled and sparking a pertinent question: 

Why wasn’t Jayed used more on Day 1, when the pitch still offered assistance for his style of bowling? 

The answer lies with Shakib Al Hasan and the Bangladesh think tank. Perhaps they had banked on spin to unsettle the West Indies, given the traditional vulnerability of Caribbean batsmen against quality spin. While the strategy was logical on paper, its execution faltered due to erratic line and length from the bowlers. On a track with early life, the decision to hold back Jayed—whose full-length deliveries and ability to bring the ball back in could have been game-changing—appears questionable in hindsight. 

Moreover, opening the bowling with a spinner on such surfaces may work in shorter formats like T20s, but in the tactical grind of Test cricket, it often proves counterproductive. 

With Hetmyer and Chase gone, the complexion of the game shifted. The Tigers were on the prowl, and Jayed’s early strikes had set the stage for Mehidy Hasan Miraz to weave his magic. 

Miraz, a proven performer in Test cricket, had been one of the few bright spots on Day 1. On Day 2, he elevated his game, varying his pace and refining his lengths to perfection. His guile and control brought swift rewards. 

Shane Dowrich, the gritty wicketkeeper-batsman, was lured into a false stroke by a slower delivery that dipped deceptively, resulting in a tame dismissal. Keemo Paul followed soon after, edging a full delivery, and Miguel Cummins was trapped lbw the very next ball. With that, Miraz secured yet another five-wicket haul in Test cricket, a testament to his craft and determination. 

Even as the West Indies skipper Jason Holder threatened to forge a tail-end resistance reminiscent of their series against Sri Lanka, Jayed returned to banish the spectre of Shannon Gabriel with pace and precision, sealing the innings. 

The turnaround was complete. Bangladesh’s bowlers, led by the youthful exuberance of Jayed and the seasoned skill of Miraz, had clawed their team back into the contest. It was a performance marked by grit, adaptability, and, above all, a refusal to yield. 

Now, the onus shifts to the Bangladesh batsmen. The bowlers have laid the groundwork with their hard-earned breakthroughs; it is up to the batsmen to ensure that the efforts of Jayed and Miraz are not squandered. 

Test cricket, after all, is a team game, and the Tigers must now come together to build on this momentum. As Day 2 drew to a close, one thing was clear: Abu Jayed had arrived as a force to be reckoned with, and Mehidy Hasan Miraz had reaffirmed his status as Bangladesh’s spinning lynchpin. Together, they reminded the cricketing world that even in adversity, the Tigers have the heart to fight back. 

Thank You
Faisal Caesar 

Friday, July 13, 2018

When Luck Meets Hesitation: Shakib Al Hasan’s Toss Triumphs and Tactical Troubles

Shakib Al Hasan’s second stint as Bangladesh’s Test captain has started with an uncanny knack for winning tosses. Twice in as many matches, Lady Luck has smiled upon him, granting him the early advantage that any captain craves. Yet, as the dust settles on these matches, the victories at the toss have done little to alter the grim narrative of Bangladesh’s struggles in the longer format.

When Shakib opted to bat first on a green-tinged surface in Antigua, it seemed a bold and commendable decision. It signalled intent—a declaration that the Tigers were unafraid to confront the challenge posed by a lively pitch. But boldness without execution is merely bravado, and the story that unfolded was anything but heroic.

Bangladesh’s innings unravelled in a single hour, a hapless procession of batsmen succumbing to the West Indian pacers’ relentless assault. The scoreboard read a dismal 43 all out—a statistic that will linger as a scar in the annals of Bangladesh cricket. The visitors needed only to weather the first two hours of the session, as the track’s initial life was destined to fade under the Caribbean sun. Instead, the team’s lack of discipline and temperament—symptoms of an overdose of shorter-format cricket—sealed their fate before the game had truly begun.

The Antigua debacle seemed to cast a long shadow over the second Test in Jamaica. Once again, Shakib won the toss, but this time he chose to bowl first—a decision as puzzling as it was timid. On a surface with a grassy tinge and underlying hardness, the opportunity to bat first and dictate terms was spurned. Instead, Bangladesh fielded a bowling attack comprising just one pacer and three spinners, a combination ill-suited to exploit the morning conditions. The spectre of Antigua’s ‘43’ appeared to haunt the team, influencing decisions and undermining confidence.

As the day unfolded, the Jamaican pitch behaved predictably. The initial grass-induced movement gave way to a harder surface that promised cracks and turn for spinners as the match progressed. By opting to bowl, Bangladesh not only missed the chance to seize the initiative but also invited the prospect of facing a deteriorating pitch in the fourth innings.

The bowlers, including Shakib, struggled to find rhythm or precision. Erratic lengths—too short to trouble and too leg-sided to threaten—allowed the West Indian batsmen to settle in. Kraigg Brathwaite, the epitome of discipline and grit, capitalized on their mediocrity, grinding his way to a determined century. Bangladesh’s woes were compounded by a missed review when Brathwaite was on 98—a moment emblematic of the team’s lack of sharpness in the field.

As the day wore on, Shimron Hetmyer injected flair into the West Indian innings, punishing Bangladesh’s bowlers for their lack of consistency. The Tigers, once known for their fearless bowling under the guidance of Heath Streak and Chandika Hathurusingha, now appeared toothless and tentative. The contrast was stark and painful—a reminder of how far the team has drifted from its days of defiance.

At the heart of this decline lies a troubling pattern: a captain plagued by self-doubt. Shakib, a cricketer of immense talent and cricketing acumen seemed uncertain and disconnected. His body language betrayed frustration, and his decisions lacked conviction. A captain’s mindset often sets the tone for the team, and when that mindset is clouded, the collective performance invariably suffers.

Looking ahead to Day 2, the mission is clear yet daunting: restrict the West Indies to under 400 runs. But achieving this will require more than just tactical adjustments. It demands a shift in attitude—a rediscovery of the courage and clarity that once defined this team. Without it, the Tigers risk enduring another day of regret under the sweltering Jamaican sun.

Bangladesh cricket finds itself at a crossroads. The toss may have been won, but the battle for identity and resilience remains an uphill climb. For Shakib and his men, the time for hesitation has passed. It’s time to channel the fearlessness of old and remind the cricketing world that the Tigers are not to be tamed.

Thank You
Faisal Caesar 

Wednesday, July 11, 2018

Shakib Al Hasan: A Champion's Trial by Fire in North Sound

On a lively pitch tailor-made for the pacers, Kemar Roach unleashed a masterclass in fast bowling on the opening morning of the first Test. The seasoned campaigner turned tormentor-in-chief, ripping through the Bangladesh top order with precision and venom. Within the first session, the Tigers’ hopes of a solid start lay in tatters. Tamim Iqbal, Mominul Haque, and Mushfiqur Rahim departed in quick succession, leaving the burden of resurrection on their captain’s shoulders.

But Shakib Al Hasan, the prodigal all-rounder reappointed as Bangladesh’s Test skipper, faltered almost immediately. Facing only his second delivery, Shakib nicked an outswinger from Roach that left him grasping at thin air—his comeback as Test captain igniting with a disheartening duck. By the end of a torrid hour, Bangladesh was skittled for an abysmal 43 runs, a collapse as stunning in its brevity as it was in its inevitability.

Under normal circumstances, such a catastrophic performance would have ignited a firestorm of criticism across Bangladesh. The cricket-obsessed nation holds its heroes close but spares no mercy when they stumble. Shakib, a perennial target for his perceived arrogance and inconsistencies, often bears the brunt of such ire. Yet, with the FIFA World Cup capturing the collective imagination, the full force of public discontent was mercifully diluted. Still, murmurs of disappointment pervaded the cricketing fraternity, questioning the ability of their talismanic leader to navigate the storm.

Shakib Al Hasan is no ordinary cricketer. He is, without a doubt, one of the finest all-rounders of his generation—a player blessed with sharp instincts, a brilliant cricketing mind, and the rare ability to single-handedly turn games in his team’s favour. However, at Antigua, none of these qualities were on display. Instead, Shakib appeared a shadow of himself: a man searching for answers under the unrelenting Caribbean sun.

The Antigua pitch offered variable bounce and assistance for bowlers, conditions Shakib might have exploited in his prime. But his deliveries lacked the bite and menace of yesteryears, his trademark arm balls missing their sting. On this day, the champion cricketer seemed adrift, his body language reflecting his internal struggles. Even champions are entitled to off-days, but captains—especially those burdened with the mantle of greatness—are seldom afforded the luxury of excuses.

In Bangladesh, where cricket is both a passion and a barometer of national pride, captains are expected to embody resilience and fortitude. For Shakib, the challenge is magnified. He carries the expectations of a nation and the weight of his own storied legacy. His critics, quick to brand him as aloof or arrogant, often overlook his undeniable contributions to Bangladesh cricket. Yet, when the team falters, the spotlight inevitably finds its way to him.

Antigua served as a grim reminder of the brutal demands of Test cricket. The format, often regarded as the ultimate test of skill and character, leaves no room for complacency. For Shakib, who has occasionally expressed ambivalence toward the rigours of Test cricket, this was a wake-up call. As captain, he must shoulder not only his personal performance but also the collective spirit of the team. Leadership, after all, is about rising in moments of adversity, about becoming the lighthouse that guides the ship through treacherous waters.

Shakib’s story is far from over. He has the intelligence, charisma, and skill to reclaim his place at the summit. But to do so, he must embrace the demands of Test cricket with renewed vigour. He must inspire his team, not just with words but with deeds, proving once again why he is celebrated as one of the world’s finest all-rounders.

For Bangladesh, success in Tests often mirrors Shakib’s fortunes. When he thrives, the Tigers roar. As the dust settles on a disastrous opening day in Antigua, Shakib Al Hasan must rise, for himself and for his team. The Tigers need their captain to lead them out of the abyss, reminding the cricketing world why Bangladesh’s brightest star still burns with untapped brilliance.

Thank You
Faisal Caesar