Dinesh Chandimal: The Unsung Warrior of World Cricket

In the grand theater of world cricket, where marquee players from the "Big Three" dominate the spotlight, there exist unsung warriors whose contributions often go unnoticed. Among them is Dinesh Chandimal, a cricketer whose career has been marked by resilience, grit, and a quiet determination to serve his team, even when the odds are stacked against him. Chandimal, much like Larry Gomes of the legendary West Indies side of the 70s and 80s, has been the glue holding his team together when the bigger names falter. Yet, his achievements seldom find the recognition they deserve in a cricketing landscape obsessed with glamour and power.

A Fighter in the Shadows

Chandimal’s career is a testament to perseverance. While the cricketing world showers accolades on players from elite cricketing nations, Chandimal has had to work exponentially harder to earn his place in the conversation. His performances are often overshadowed by the circus-like adulation for players who thrive in the shorter formats. Chandimal, however, belongs to a rare breed of cricketers who prioritize substance over style.

Consider his defiant knocks in Galle against Pakistan, where his innings in both outings showcased his ability to absorb pressure and deliver when his team needed him most. Or his bold century against Australia just weeks prior, a knock that epitomized the kind of steely determination that defines his career. Against Bangladesh, too, Chandimal stood tall, proving once again that he is Sri Lanka’s man for a crisis.

The cricketing archives are replete with Chandimal’s heroics, yet they are often overlooked. His nine-hour marathon 155 against Pakistan in Abu Dhabi in 2017 was a masterclass in endurance and technique. His twin fifties on debut against South Africa in 2011, during a challenging tour, announced his arrival on the international stage. And who can forget his audacious 162 against India in 2015, a knock that showcased his flair and composure against one of the strongest bowling attacks in the world?

But, as history has shown, world cricket has a tendency to forget such feats when they come from players outside the powerhouses of the game.

The Bumpy Road of Leadership

Chandimal’s journey has been far from smooth. Leadership, in particular, has been a double-edged sword for him. At just 23, he was handed the reins of Sri Lanka’s shorter-format side, only to be unceremoniously removed during the World T20, a tournament Sri Lanka went on to win without him. His tenure as Test captain was marred by illness, controversy, and the infamous ball-tampering saga that led to his suspension and eventual removal.

When Dimuth Karunaratne took over the captaincy, leading Sri Lanka to a historic Test series win in South Africa, Chandimal found himself not just stripped of leadership but also dropped from the side. It was a harsh blow, yet he remained undeterred.

Even now, when asked to stand in as captain in Karunaratne’s absence, Chandimal steps up without hesitation. His willingness to serve the team, regardless of personal setbacks, underscores his selflessness and unwavering commitment to Sri Lankan cricket.

A Team Man to the Core

What sets Chandimal apart is his humility. He does not seek headlines or attempt to establish himself as a revolutionary figure. Instead, he focuses on being a team man, giving his all for the betterment of Sri Lankan cricket. In an era where individualism often takes precedence, Chandimal’s quiet dedication is a refreshing anomaly.

Sri Lanka’s cricketing landscape has been fraught with challenges, both on and off the field. Yet, Chandimal has remained a beacon of hope for the island nation, delivering when it matters most and inspiring his teammates with his resilience.

A Legacy Worth Remembering

Dinesh Chandimal may not belong to the pantheon of cricketing superstars, but his contributions to the game are no less significant. He is a reminder that cricket, at its core, is about grit, determination, and the ability to rise above adversity.

As the cricketing world continues to evolve, it is essential to celebrate players like Chandimal, whose journeys embody the spirit of the game. His career may not be adorned with the accolades and recognition reserved for the elite, but for those who have witnessed his brilliance, Dinesh Chandimal will always be remembered as a fighter, a team man, and an unsung hero of Sri Lankan cricket.

Thank You 

Faisal Caesar 

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

Sri Lankan Cricket: The Slippery Slope of Transition and a Messiah's Fall

In the twilight of a sunlit Hambantota evening, a scene unfolded that etched itself into the annals of Sri Lankan cricket. Jubilantly, Sikandar Raza and Graeme Cremer embraced history, their smiles radiant with Zimbabwe’s triumph. Across the field, Angelo Mathews trudged away, his shoulders drooping under the weight of disappointment. His face was a canvas of defeat—sullen and fatigued—a stark reflection of a man who had given his all yet stood bereft of solace. 

For Mathews, this wasn’t merely a defeat but an implosion. The humbling loss to a lower-ranked Zimbabwean side, a first on Lankan soil, marked one of the nadirs of his illustrious career. "It’s one of the lowest points in my career and a hard one to swallow," Mathews admitted with characteristic candour. "From the toss to misreading the wicket, everything went against us. But there are no excuses. At the end of the day, we weren’t good enough. They played better cricket." 

That moment of reckoning pushed him to step down as Sri Lanka’s captain across all formats. In his place, Dinesh Chandimal and Upul Tharanga were tasked with navigating a rudderless ship, taking on Test and limited-overs leadership respectively. 

The Fall from Grace 

Sri Lanka’s struggles post the Mahela Jayawardene-Kumar Sangakkara era have been glaring. Once the epitome of 50-over excellence, the Lankan Lions have dwindled to a pale shadow of their past glory. Their post-2015 ODI record tells a grim tale: seven series defeats in ten attempts, punctuated by sporadic success against a weakened West Indies and a miraculous Test victory against Australia in 2016. 

The numbers betray deeper concerns than mere loss of form. Despite an abundance of talent, a lack of direction, cohesion, and leadership has left the team adrift. 

A Crisis of Leadership 

Mathews once hailed as the messianic figure poised to lead Sri Lanka into a new golden age, has borne the brunt of these failures. While his all-around prowess and commitment have rarely been questioned, his tenure as captain has been marred by inconsistency, both within his squad and among the ranks of those managing them. The relentless defeats chipped away at his mental and physical resolve, ultimately compelling his resignation. 

The Coaching Carousel 

Compounding the chaos has been Sri Lanka’s turbulent relationship with coaching. A revolving door of appointments and abrupt departures has stifled progress. Stability and vision have been glaringly absent, leaving a young and promising roster bereft of guidance. 

Enter the question: who can reignite the flames of Sri Lankan cricket? Dav Whatmore, who shepherded the side to World Cup glory in 1996, remains a compelling candidate. Known for his ability to nurture talent and instill self-belief, Whatmore could be the guiding light Chandimal, Tharanga, and their contemporaries desperately need during this period of transition. 

A House Divided 

Equally troubling is the disarray within Sri Lanka Cricket (SLC). Mismanagement at the administrative level has sowed confusion and instability. Over 39 players have been fielded under the current chief selector’s tenure—a reflection of short-sighted experimentation rather than a cohesive strategy. Until governance improves and accountability is enforced at the top, any progress on the field risks being undermined by chaos off it. 

The Path Forward 

The malaise of Sri Lankan cricket cannot be cured overnight. A confluence of factors—leadership, coaching stability, and administrative reform—must converge to arrest the downward spiral. The potential is undeniable; the nation has always been a cradle of cricketing prodigies. What remains is to channel that potential into tangible outcomes. 

Sri Lanka, once a beacon of artistry and innovation in world cricket, now faces its most daunting test. The fans, ever passionate and loyal, deserve more. It is time for the powers that be to rise above their failings and reclaim the spirit of a team that once inspired the world. 

Without bold decisions and long-term vision, the once-proud Lions risk fading into irrelevance. The world watches, hoping for a resurgence, knowing full well that cricket is richer when Sri Lanka roars.  

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

Sri Lanka’s Masterclass in Galle: Herath’s Redemption and Chandimal’s Chaos

A Turnaround Written in Spin

Not long after chasing 377 with an air of ease against Pakistan, Sri Lanka returned to an older, more familiar script—transforming a modest target into a mountain. On the fourth day at Galle, the script was executed to perfection. India, beginning with nine wickets in hand and needing just 153 to win, were undone by the relentless guile of Rangana Herath and the youthful vigour of Tharindu Kaushal.

The 192-run first-innings deficit was not just overturned—it was alchemised into victory. Excluding forfeitures, this was the eighth-highest deficit ever turned into a Test win, and it came with a distinctly Sri Lankan flavour: runs in the bank, clever in-and-out fields, and spinners unerringly landing the ball on a postage stamp.

The Fortress Breathes

Galle International Stadium—open, breezy, flanked by fort walls and an indifferent sea—felt claustrophobic for India on that final day. Twenty-four hours earlier, they were near-certain victors. But a sequence of events, starting with Dinesh Chandimal’s counterattack and India’s stubborn resistance to the DRS, had reversed the emotional momentum. By the fourth morning, a sense of inevitability hung in the air: Sri Lanka would make them toil for every run.

Instead of grafting, India collapsed—recording their lowest total against Sri Lanka.

The Old Master’s Spell

Herath, omitted from the previous match and anonymous in the first innings, summoned a spell of rare vintage. Fighting sore knees and a complaining back, he bowled as though the years had reversed. In an 18-over marathon, interrupted only by lunch, he conceded just 35 runs and took six wickets.

Each dismissal was a study in variation:

Ishant Sharma—lbw to one that might have struck outside the line.

Rohit Sharma—bowled, stranded beside the ball’s turning arc.

Wriddhiman Saha—lured down the track, beaten by flight and dip.

Harbhajan Singh—caught pad-bat, the ball kissing both surfaces.

R Ashwin—holing out in a desperate counterattack.

Ajinkya Rahane—edged to slip, the last bastion breached.

Herath’s bowling was not about unplayable deliveries alone—it was about suffocating pressure. Every over was a net closing in.

The Supporting Cast

Dhammika Prasad and Nuwan Pradeep, though wicketless in that decisive phase, softened India’s resistance. They probed relentlessly outside off, especially against Shikhar Dhawan, who—batting with a bruised hand—adopted discipline over adventure. Yet this discipline turned to stagnation, and stagnation to errors.

Kohli’s dismissal, prodding far in front of his body, epitomised the batting lapse. Dhawan’s own end came via a soft leading edge after an ill-conceived sweep change. From 45 for 4, the slope steepened rapidly.

Chandimal’s Day of Anarchy

If Herath’s spell was a symphony of control, Chandimal’s innings the day prior was pure chaos jazz. Arriving when Sri Lanka teetered, he lashed sweeps and reverse-sweeps against the turn, struck Ashwin past cover, and clobbered Harbhajan for six. He made 51 of the last 65 runs scored by Sri Lanka, all while Galle’s backdrop played its own percussion: election rally speeches, sea winds, bus horns, and kite-flying children.

It was cricket as street theatre—noise, unpredictability, and audacity.

Herath’s Redemption Arc

For eighteen months, whispers had grown: Is Herath done? Figures like 1/99 and 1/154 fed the narrative. But this was a man forged in resilience—summoned back into the Test side after playing club cricket in England, often overlooked for flashier, mystery spinners.

His victory was as personal as it was national. This was the Herath who, in 2011 Durban, willed Sri Lanka to victory; the Herath whose craft lived in the subtleties, whose career was a testament to squeezing every ounce from modest natural gifts.

“Being dropped is my bread and butter,” he quipped afterwards, smiling as if adversity were just another opponent to outlast.

An Ending with Memory

When the final wicket fell, it was not just India’s chase that had ended, but a narrative that had threatened to define Herath’s twilight years. In Galle, he reminded cricket that greatness can be quiet, and redemption can be slow-burning—but when it arrives, it can suffocate as thoroughly as a perfect spell of left-arm spin.

Thank You 

Faisal Caesar