Pakistan's Test Woes: A Familiar Collapse in South Africa

The questions surrounding Pakistan's batting are perennial, almost a ritualistic discourse in cricketing circles: *When will the lineup collapse? How long before the opposition seals the match?*

In the second Test against South Africa, these questions were answered with ruthless efficiency. With two days still in hand and 228 runs needed to script a comeback, Pakistan folded predictably, showcasing yet again their perennial fragility in alien conditions. The visitors succumbed to a whitewash—a result as inevitable as it was disheartening.

A Tale of Two Missing Pillars 

The absence of Younis Khan and Misbah-ul-Haq has left an irreplaceable void in Pakistan’s Test lineup. Post their retirement, the baton was expected to pass to Asad Shafiq and Azhar Ali—batters groomed in the shadows of these stalwarts. Yet, their inability to shoulder responsibility has left Pakistan's batting brittle, especially overseas.

Azhar Ali’s numbers, while respectable at first glance, unravel under scrutiny. His career average of 43.27 dips to 37.41 away from home. In the SENA (South Africa, England, New Zealand, and Australia) countries, the disparity becomes stark. Apart from a solitary bright spot in Australia, where he averages a remarkable 81.20, his numbers plummet: a dismal 16.00 in South Africa, 29.68 in England, and 29.42 in New Zealand. 

Shafiq, touted as a middle-order mainstay, has fared no better. His career average of 38.94 flatters to deceive, buoyed largely by runs on placid tracks in the UAE. In testing conditions, the cracks widen: averages of 36.5 in England, 32.08 in South Africa, and 23.28 in New Zealand. For two players with over 60 Tests under their belts, such mediocrity is damning.

The Missing Fight 

Batting in SENA countries requires more than just technique; it demands grit, adaptability, and the will to fight against the odds. This is where Pakistan’s senior batters have faltered most glaringly. Instead of shielding younger players like Babar Azam, Imam-ul-Haq, or Shan Masood from fiery pace attacks, they’ve exposed them to the lions' den unprepared. 

Babar’s audacious stroke play against Dale Steyn and Masood’s unexpected resolve offered glimpses of potential, but these were mere flickers in a sea of darkness. Captain Sarfraz Ahmed, while not expected to anchor innings as a specialist batter, has failed to inspire his team as a leader. The captaincy in Test cricket demands a vision and a steeliness that Sarfraz has yet to demonstrate.

A Perennial Problem 

This series was not a new chapter but a rerun of an all-too-familiar script. Since the departure of Pakistan’s batting greats of the 1990s and 2000s, tours of South Africa have become an exercise in futility. The team often goes through the motions, returning home with fleeting positives and lessons unlearned. 

The blame lies not only with individuals but also with a collective mindset. Without meticulous planning, mental preparation, and a genuine hunger for success abroad, Pakistan’s Test progress will remain stagnant. The need for accountability, strategy, and leadership cannot be overstated. 

A Call for Change 

If Pakistan aspires to be competitive in Test cricket, especially overseas, the status quo must be challenged. The transition from flat-track dominance to consistent performances in hostile conditions will demand a cultural shift. Batters like Azhar and Shafiq must either rediscover their fighting spirit or make way for a new generation willing to embrace the challenge.

For now, the haunting echoes of another South African whitewash remain—a bitter reminder of what Pakistan cricket could be, but isn’t.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

A Dream Forged in Adversity: Bangladesh’s Cricketing Journey

In the 1980s and 90s, cricket in Bangladesh was not just a sport—it was an unfulfilled dream, shrouded in scepticism and societal disregard. For the youth of that era, the desire to pursue cricket professionally was met with derision, often dismissed as an impractical folly. Parents, if they entertained the notion of sports as a career at all, leaned toward football—a game that, at least, held some local prestige. 

For cricket, there was no pathway to success. The absence of Test status loomed as an insurmountable barrier, rendering the sport a pastime rather than a profession. Visionaries like Gazi Ashraf Hossain Lipu, Yousuf Babu, Aminul Islam, Minhazul Abedin, and Akram Khan tried to ignite the flames of aspiration, yet their efforts often dissipated like the morning dew—momentary, fleeting, and overshadowed by the harsh realities of the time. 

A Nation Adrift 

In those years, Bangladesh was a footballing nation. Streets, fields, and hearts were dominated by the beautiful game. Cricket was relegated to an afterthought, its place on the national stage marginal at best. To dream of Bangladesh as a Test-playing nation felt like wishful thinking—impossible, unattainable. 

The road to Test cricket was clear, but it was also treacherous: Bangladesh had to make its mark in the ICC Trophy, a proving ground for aspiring nations. However, early performances in the tournament were disappointing, and the dream of playing alongside the likes of Australia, England, or India seemed ever distant. 

Personal Struggles and Quiet Defiance 

I remember those days vividly. In 1992, like many others my age, I played cricket in the narrow gullies of Dhaka. But every six hit or wicket taken came at a price—a torrent of scolding from family members who saw no future in the game. 

One evening, I returned home late after a spirited game, only to face a barrage of criticism. “Give up playing cricket! Bangladesh has no future in cricket,” they said, the words cutting like a blade. 

But I refused to accept this narrative. To my sister, I said with quiet conviction, “Things will change someday. Wasim, Waqar, Lara, and Tendulkar will come to play in Dhaka.”

Her response? A dismissive laugh and a single word: “Kochu!”(nonsense). 

The Turning Point 

Fast forward to March 15, 2017. Bangladesh stood on the cusp of playing their 100th Test match. From the margins of the cricketing world to the grandest stage of them all, the Tigers had clawed their way forward, defying odds, sceptics, and their own limitations. 

For those of us who lived through the days when Bangladesh cricket was an afterthought, this milestone was profoundly emotional. We bore witness to the transformation—from being a team that struggled to qualify for ICC tournaments to competing with the giants of the game. The journey was anything but easy. 

The Spirit of the Tigers 

The path to Test status was littered with obstacles, yet Bangladesh’s cricketers persevered. They won hearts with grit and resilience, enduring losses, learning from defeats, and slowly earning the respect of the cricketing world. 

Every victory, every milestone, and every individual performance carried the weight of a nation’s dreams. Aminul Islam’s century in Bangladesh’s inaugural Test against India, Habibul Bashar’s fearless batting, and Shakib Al Hasan’s rise as one of the finest all-rounders in the world** became symbols of what was possible. 

The scepticism of the past gave way to belief. The voices that once said, “Bangladesh has no future in cricket,” were drowned out by roars of celebration as the Tigers grew into a competitive, proud Test-playing nation. 

A Nation United 

On the day of the 100th Test, those who had endured the doubts and dismissals of the 80s and 90s felt a wave of vindication. It wasn’t just about cricket—it was about the spirit of a nation that refused to be written off. 

Bangladesh’s cricket history is not one of ease. It is a story of struggle, perseverance, and triumph against the odds. The Tigers’ journey from gully cricket to Test cricket mirrors the resilience of the nation itself—a testament to what can be achieved through hope, effort, and an unyielding belief in dreams. 

Long live Bangladesh. Long live the Tigers. 

Bangladesh Zindabad!

Thank You

Faisal Caesar