In cricket, as in life, the line between brilliance and failure is razor-thin. One moment, a batsman is a master of his craft, commanding bowlers with effortless grace; the next, he is a shadow of himself, struggling to reclaim the magic that once came naturally. Saeed Anwar, Pakistan’s most elegant opener of the 1990s, experienced both extremes during the high-voltage India-Pakistan Test series of 1999.
Before the tour, Anwar’s confidence brimmed with the arrogance of a master in form. He openly expressed his desire to notch a triple century, a feat that would cement his dominance over Pakistan’s fiercest rivals. The expectation was not misplaced. Two years earlier, he had tormented India in Chennai with a sublime 194, an innings of such ethereal beauty that it remains etched in cricketing folklore. His overall record against India was staggering, a testament to his penchant for delivering on the grandest stage.
More recently, in 1998, he had further solidified his status as an all-condition batsman. A polished 118 against the formidable South African pace quartet of Allan Donald, Shaun Pollock, Lance Klusener, and Jacques Kallis at Durban underscored his adaptability. Later that year, in a home series against Australia, he amassed 290 runs at an average of 96.66, including two masterful centuries. In the first Test at Rawalpindi, he stitched together a crucial 120-run ninth-wicket partnership with Mushtaq Ahmed, saving Pakistan from complete collapse.
Anwar was in prime form. His class was undisputed. But cricket has a way of humbling even the greatest.
A Series of Self-Doubt: The Collapse of a Titan
As the much-anticipated series against India began, Anwar, the artist with a bat, found his canvas barren. The rhythm that had once defined his game was absent, the fluidity of stroke-making replaced by hesitation. His high hopes of a historic series were quickly dashed as he struggled in the first two Tests, failing to impose himself. Each dismissal chipped away at his confidence, instilling the kind of self-doubt that can cripple even the finest of batsmen.
Then came the Asian Test Championship opener at Eden Gardens—one of the grandest stages in world cricket, a venue soaked in history, where the pressure of a Pakistan-India encounter is magnified by the presence of 85,000 fervent spectators. The cauldron of Kolkata was no place for the uncertain. It demanded resolve, brilliance, and a touch of defiance.
But for Pakistan, the match began in disaster.
Eden Gardens: A Cauldron of Humiliation
Batting first, Pakistan suffered a collapse so dramatic that it seemed destined for the record books. Within the first ten overs, they were reduced to 26 for six, their worst-ever start in a Test innings. The Eden Gardens crowd erupted in joy, relishing every Pakistan wicket that tumbled. The humiliation was compounded by their taunts directed at Javed Miandad, the Pakistani coach, who had recently called for drastic changes to the team in the wake of the ongoing match-fixing scandal.
Amidst the ruins, Anwar walked to the crease, burdened by expectation but devoid of form. Twelve balls later, he trudged back to the pavilion—a duck against his name. Pakistan's innings ended at a paltry 185, their pride shattered, their spirits crushed.
India, in response, looked poised to take a commanding lead. At 147 for two, they were cruising. Then, in a moment of sheer brilliance, the match flipped on its head. Shoaib Akhtar, raw, ferocious, and unstoppable, produced a spell that would be remembered for years. He bowled Rahul Dravid with a searing yorker and, in the very next delivery, shattered Sachin Tendulkar’s stumps with an express in-swinger. The twin strikes stunned the Eden Gardens crowd into silence. India collapsed, folding for 223, managing only a slender 38-run lead.
The game, once lopsided, was now alive.
Anwar’s Redemption: A Masterpiece Amidst Ruins
Pakistan’s second innings began with trepidation. Wajahatullah Wasti, pushed up the order to his natural opening position, departed early. The tension on the field mirrored that in the stands. An altercation between Prasad and nightwatchman Saqlain Mushtaq further fueled the already volatile atmosphere. South African umpire David Orchard was forced to intervene, warning India’s wicketkeeper, Nayan Mongia, for excessive appealing.
Amidst the chaos, Anwar survived a massive stroke of luck. On just two, he edged Srinath to first slip, where Mohammad Azharuddin got both hands to the ball—only to let it slip through. It was a moment of reprieve that would alter the course of the match.
The next morning, a different Anwar emerged. The hesitancy that plagued him earlier dissipated. His bat, once tentative, now met the ball with certainty. The initial movements were precise, the stroke play crisp, the footwork assured. It was vintage Saeed Anwar—fluid, elegant, and composed.
Teaming up with Mohammad Yousuf, he steered Pakistan towards stability. Their fourth-wicket stand of 115 in little over two hours frustrated India, sapped their energy, and pushed the hosts onto the defensive. The once-dominant Kumble, fresh off his historic 10-wicket haul in Delhi, looked ordinary. His final figures of one for 138 were a stark contrast to his previous heroics.
But Pakistan, true to their mercurial nature, found a way to self-destruct. From a promising 262 for three, they crumbled once more, losing their last seven wickets for just 54 runs. Yousuf’s dismissal—hooking Srinath straight to fine leg—triggered another collapse. The fragility of Pakistan’s middle and lower order was exposed yet again.
A Lone Warrior in the Storm
Yet through all the chaos, Saeed Anwar remained unshaken. He played with the fluency and grace that had once defined him. The drives through cover, the effortless cuts, the delicate flicks off his pads—every stroke was a reminder of his class. More than half his runs came behind the wicket, a testament to his immaculate timing and shot selection.
When the innings ended, Anwar stood unbeaten on 188, having carried his bat through—a feat only two Pakistanis before him, Nazar Mohammad and Mudassar Nazar, had achieved. His score accounted for 60% of Pakistan’s total of 316, a staggering individual contribution in a Test match of such intensity.
Though Younis Khan would later surpass this record with a 267 in Bangalore in 2005, Anwar’s innings at Eden Gardens remained one of the finest ever played by a Pakistani batsman on Indian soil. What made it legendary was not just the runs but the circumstances under which they came.
From the humiliation of a first-innings duck to the artistry of his second innings, Anwar’s performance was a tale of redemption, resilience, and sheer class. It was the story of a batsman who, when faced with doubt and adversity, rediscovered his greatness and answered his critics with his bat.
In the grand narrative of India-Pakistan cricket, where emotions run high and history is written in moments of brilliance, Anwar’s 188* stands as a testament to the power of perseverance. It was poetry in motion, a symphony of batsmanship that turned despair into triumph.
Thank You
Faisal Caesar
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