An ICC event in Pakistan was once unthinkable. A nation burdened with relentless setbacks since the dawn of the 21st century has never ceased to push forward. Pakistan, in its resilience, has turned survival into an art form, and its people have redefined perseverance. Cricket, in the grand scheme of their struggles, may not be the most pressing concern. Yet, the sport has endured, surviving where logic suggested it would perish. Decades of isolation following the tragic events in Lahore created a lost generation—one that grew up watching their national team play in foreign lands. And yet, cricket never abandoned Pakistan, just as Pakistan never abandoned cricket. After 29 years, an ICC event returns to its soil, albeit in a hybrid model, because the financial overlords of the sport deemed Pakistan unworthy of a full embrace.
But what of Pakistan, the team? Even their most passionate supporters do not expect them to rival the clinical efficiency of Australia, the strategic might of England, or the calculated dominance of New Zealand. They do not seek trophies or domination—they crave improvement, fight, and a return to their proud heritage of unpredictability. Yet, their wishes remain unfulfilled, their expectations met with heartbreak more often than triumph. The structural weaknesses of Pakistan’s cricketing ecosystem are exposed time and again—an inconsistent domestic system, fragile player development, and administrative instability all contribute to the team’s stagnation.
The opening match of the ICC Champions Trophy 2025 was supposed to be a homecoming, a statement of revival. And for a fleeting moment, it seemed as though Pakistan had seized the narrative. A leg-spinner producing a carrom ball dismissal. A young fast bowler removing one of the world’s best batters. The dream was taking shape. But then, reality set in. Will Young batted as though he were playing against a club team, while Tom Latham anchored, and Glenn Phillips ensured Pakistan’s misery was complete. The lack of a clear bowling strategy, especially in the middle overs, highlighted Pakistan’s persistent tactical shortcomings.
A total of 320 on a surface with just enough variable bounce to keep bowlers interested should have been a competitive challenge. But then, Pakistan batted—or did they? They were present, in uniform, holding bats, but their innings only truly began after the 18th over. By then, the chase was already slipping away, like sand through desperate fingers. Expecting to chase down 321 with a self-inflicted handicap is not optimism; it is delusion. The lack of intent in the powerplay overs, a recurring issue for Pakistan, continues to undermine their chances in modern white-ball cricket. While the world embraces aggressive play and high strike rates, Pakistan remains shackled by outdated approaches.
Somewhere, Babar Azam is still playing out dot balls, eternally waiting for his moment to attack. His inability to accelerate under pressure, while technically gifted, reflects a deeper issue within Pakistan’s batting philosophy. The absence of a structured middle-order approach exacerbates the problem, often leaving too much for too few at the death.
While most New Zealand batters struggled, Young’s innings appeared effortless, a masterclass in quiet destruction. He never imposed himself with brute force; rather, he glided through the innings while those around him floundered. And when Pakistan had the new ball, it was anything but menacing. Mohammad Rizwan, ever the dramatist, made every delivery seem like a landmine, though his presence was only necessitated by Fakhar Zaman’s back injury.
New Zealand’s fielding was surgical in its precision. A tight backward point, an aggressive point fielder in the circle, and an advanced cover point made Pakistan’s offside strokes redundant. Every firm push met an immovable Kiwi, every well-timed shot found an agile hand. Glenn Phillips, a cricketer molded for moments like these, provided a fielding masterclass before pulling off a breathtaking catch—a left-handed stunner that typified Pakistan’s plight.
Pakistan’s chase of 321 was already a distant dream by the tenth over—22 for 2. Fakhar Zaman arrived too late to make a difference, his 24 off 41 a mere footnote in an innings that never found its rhythm. Rizwan and Babar, the twin pillars of Pakistan’s batting, once again looked for redemption but found only frustration. Khushdil Shah and Salman Ali Agha provided sparks, but in isolation, sparks do not ignite a blaze.
The structural flaws in Pakistan’s cricketing setup demand urgent attention. A reactive approach to team selection, inconsistent leadership, and tactical rigidity hinder progress. While talent is abundant, the pathways to nurture and harness it remain flawed.
Defeat was never in question—it was merely a matter of time.
New Zealand, ever clinical, continued their fine run in Pakistan. The hosts, meanwhile, remain trapped in a familiar cycle of hope and despair, knowing that improvement is imperative but never quite knowing how to achieve it. Until systemic changes are made, Pakistan will continue to oscillate between moments of brilliance and prolonged mediocrity, never quite bridging the gap between nostalgia and reality.
Thank You
Faisal Caesar
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