Bangladesh: When Turning Off the Screen Becomes an Act of Resistance

If Bangladesh’s decision to suspend the broadcast of the Indian Premier League (IPL), followed by its reluctance to travel to India for the upcoming T20 World Cup, is dismissed as an emotional reaction or a cricketing tantrum, then we have failed to read the deeper grammar of South Asian power politics. This was not an impulsive gesture born of wounded pride. It was a calculated, understated, and dignified act of resistance, polite in form, political in substance.

No slogans were shouted. No diplomatic ultimatums were issued. Instead, symbolism was deployed. And in politics, particularly in unequal relationships, symbolism often carries more weight than confrontation.

The government justified the move in simple terms: Bangladesh’s premier fast bowler, Mustafizur Rahman, was dropped from the Kolkata Knight Riders squad without any explanation. On the surface, this might appear to be routine franchise management. But the absence of explanation is precisely where the politics begin. Silence, in such contexts, is not neutrality. It is a hierarchy made visible.

In modern cricket, to exclude without explanation is not merely to sideline a player; it is to disregard a country’s cricketing dignity. It is to say that some questions do not deserve answers, because not everyone is entitled to ask them.

The Board of Control for Cricket in India has long ceased to treat cricket as a sport alone. It is now a multi-billion-dollar corporate ecosystem, where bats and balls are ornamental, and real decisions are made in boardrooms shaped by capital, political proximity, and strategic leverage. Cricketing logic is optional. Performance is negotiable. Power is not.

The IPL is marketed as the world’s greatest meritocracy, a carnival where talent triumphs above all else. In reality, it resembles a gated community: open to many, owned by a few. You may play, entertain, and generate revenue, but you may not ask questions. If you do, you are reminded—quietly but firmly, of “how things work.”

For Bangladeshi cricketers, this reality is particularly unforgiving. Their presence in the IPL is never framed as a right; it is extended as a favour. A privilege that can be granted today and withdrawn tomorrow, without explanation. To seek clarity is to risk discomfort.

Contrast this with how Australian or English players are treated. Scheduling conflicts are negotiated. Security concerns are delicately managed. Calendars bend. Justifications soften. Global cricket suddenly becomes flexible.

Is this what “global cricket leadership” now looks like?

In this lexicon, leadership means imposition. Cooperation means compliance. And the much-celebrated “cricketing family” exists only as long as everyone understands their place.

Mustafizur Rahman is not an anonymous journeyman. His cutters, variations, and composure under pressure have earned him global recognition. He is not new to the IPL. His credentials are well established. Yet neither the franchise nor the governing power felt compelled to explain his exclusion. Because power does not explain itself. It announces decisions and expects acceptance.

This is where the mask slips. Unity is celebrated when dominant interests are secure. But when smaller nations ask for parity or respect, they become inconvenient relatives, best ignored.

At this point, cricket bleeds seamlessly into politics. The IPL does not exist in isolation from the broader contours of India–Bangladesh relations, which have long been defined by asymmetry, whether in trade, water sharing, border killings, visa regimes, or diplomatic leverage. Cricket simply offers a softer, more palatable theatre in which dominance can be exercised under the banner of sport.

Bangladesh’s decision to suspend the IPL broadcast is not economic retaliation. It is a moral and political statement. No one seriously believes this will dent the league’s revenue or dull its spectacle. The IPL is too vast, too entrenched, too profitable for that.

But symbolism is not measured in balance sheets.

Suspending the broadcast sends a clear message: Bangladesh is not merely a consumer market. It is a cricket-loving nation that demands respect. Passion can be monetised. Humiliation, however, is remembered.

In India’s political ecosystem, cricket has long functioned as soft power. Fixtures, exclusions, and selective “security concerns” often double as diplomatic instruments. Who plays, who doesn’t, who is deemed indispensable, and who is dispensable—these decisions are rarely apolitical.

Bangladesh’s quiet rebuff forces an uncomfortable question: is cricket still a global game? Or has it become a stage where the largest shareholder decides who plays, who watches, and who is expected to absorb indignity in silence?

The IPL will go on. Cameras will roll. Stadiums will fill. The festival will resume. But outside the glare, some will stand apart, aware that this celebration is not equal for all.

If cricket continues down this path, where power consistently eclipses merit, its future is already visible. The game will cease to be global. It will become a franchised entertainment system, where players are assets, questions are unwelcome, and rules are rewritten without explanation.

In that version of cricket, the “Man of the Match” will no longer be decided by bat or ball. It will belong to institutions that write the rules, bend them when convenient, and never feel obliged to justify themselves.

Bangladesh’s restraint offers a reminder: submission is not the only response to power. Sometimes silence itself is resistance. And sometimes, turning off the screen says more than any protest ever could.

Thank You

Faisal Caeasar

Loyalty vs. Lucre: A Tale of Two Cricketing Nations

 The Indian Premier League (IPL), a juggernaut of wealth and glamour, has long been the cynosure of the cricketing world. Yet, its meteoric rise has not come without collateral damage. Critics argue that the IPL, and by extension other Twenty20 leagues, has reduced cricket to a mere spectacle—a "tamasha" where the sport itself often takes a backseat to commercial interests. 

Over the past 15 years, the IPL has reshaped the global cricketing ecosystem, creating a divide between national allegiance and personal gain. Its allure is undeniable, offering fame, fortune, and a global stage. But in its wake, it has also left a trail of fractured loyalties and diluted priorities, with few voices daring to challenge the dominance of the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI). 

A Litmus Test of Loyalty

As South Africa prepared for a home series against Bangladesh, the shadow of the IPL loomed large. Cricket South Africa (CSA) made an unprecedented decision to leave the choice to its players: represent the nation in Test cricket or fulfil their IPL commitments. 

South Africa’s Test captain, Dean Elgar, did not mince words. 

"The players need to give Cricket South Africa an indication of if they are keen to go to the IPL or if they are keen to play for the Test side. It’s a litmus test of loyalty," Elgar declared. 

Elgar’s frustration was palpable. He spoke of the challenges of leading a team that might be deprived of its best players. The absence of frontline pacers Kagiso Rabada, Lungi Ngidi, Anrich Nortje, and Marco Jansen, along with key batters like Aiden Markram and Rassie van der Dussen, left a gaping hole in the squad. 

"They mustn’t forget that Test cricket or one-day cricket got them into the IPL and not the other way around," Elgar reminded. 

Yet, the lure of the IPL proved too strong. Eleven South African players contracted to the league—including six Test regulars—chose the IPL over national duty. The result was a depleted South African Test side that bore the brunt of this exodus. 

The Tigers Roar

In stark contrast, Bangladesh displayed a resolute commitment to their national colours. Taskin Ahmed, despite receiving an IPL offer, chose to stay loyal to the Green and Red. His decision was emblematic of a team that prioritized the nation over personal gain. Even Shakib Al Hasan, despite initial hesitations and personal challenges, recommitted himself to the cause after facing criticism from fans and experts alike. 

This unity and focus bore fruit. For the first time in history, Bangladesh secured an ODI series victory in South Africa—a feat that had eluded them since their maiden tour in 2001-02. 

The Proteas, once a cricketing powerhouse, appeared disjointed and bereft of direction. The decline of South African cricket, exacerbated by the exodus of talent to Twenty20 leagues and systemic issues like the quota system, was starkly evident. 

Bangladesh, on the other hand, exuded purpose and determination. Tamim Iqbal led with authority, Shakib was instrumental with both bat and ball, and the younger players rose to the occasion. Yet, it was Taskin Ahmed who emerged as the heartbeat of this historic triumph. 

Taskin Ahmed: The Spearhead of Success

Taskin’s transformation into a world-class bowler has been a journey of grit and perseverance. Under the guidance of Ottis Gibson, he honed his skills, and Allan Donald, rather than overhauling his technique, built on this foundation. The results were evident in South Africa, where Taskin’s fiery spells dismantled the Proteas’ batting line-up. 

His pace, control, and ability to extract movement were reminiscent of the great fast bowlers of yesteryears. Taskin’s heroics were not just about numbers; they symbolized the rewards of hard work and unyielding loyalty. 

A Tale of Two Teams

The contrasting fortunes of South Africa and Bangladesh in this series underscore a broader narrative. Where one team grappled with the distractions of external allure, the other thrived on unity and purpose. The Proteas, hampered by divided loyalties, looked a shadow of their former selves. Meanwhile, the Tigers roared with pride, their loyalty to the nation shining through every performance. 

The Bigger Picture

The IPL’s impact on world cricket cannot be understated. While it has brought financial stability and global exposure, it has also challenged traditional structures and values. The dilemma faced by South African players is not unique—it is a reflection of the broader tensions between national and franchise cricket. 

For Bangladesh, this series was more than just a victory—it was a statement of intent. It was a reminder that loyalty, hard work, and unity can overcome even the most formidable challenges. 

As the cricketing world grapples with the growing influence of Twenty20 leagues, the question remains: Will loyalty to the nation continue to triumph, or will the lure of lucre prove irresistible? For now, the Tigers have shown that the former is still possible—and, perhaps, more rewarding. 

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

The Evolution of Cricket: A Battle Between Tradition and Modernity

In 2002, as the Benson & Hedges Cup—one of England's cherished one-day competitions—faded into history, the England and Wales Cricket Board (ECB) found itself at a crossroads. Seeking innovation to rejuvenate dwindling audiences, ECB marketing manager Stuart Robertson proposed a bold experiment: a 20-over-a-side contest. The concept, narrowly approved by county chairmen in an 11-7 vote, heralded the birth of Twenty20 cricket. On June 13, 2003, this radical format made its debut in the Twenty20 Cup, signaling the dawn of a new era. 

For a purist, the rationale behind this innovation was perplexing. Cricket, long celebrated as a game of patience, strategy, and gradual crescendo, seemed to be veering away from its essence. Test matches and One-Day Internationals (ODIs) had for decades captivated audiences with their intricate narratives. Yet, the emergence of T20 suggested an underlying dissatisfaction—a belief that cricket needed a shorter, more electrifying variant to capture the imagination of modern audiences. 

Initially, T20 found its footing within England, but its appeal soon transcended borders. Australia and Pakistan were early adopters, but it was India—the sport’s economic epicenter—that remained aloof. That indifference ended in 2007, when the inaugural ICC World Twenty20 final unfolded in Johannesburg. Misbah-ul-Haq’s ill-fated scoop off Joginder Sharma sealed Pakistan’s defeat, and MS Dhoni’s jubilant hoisting of the trophy ignited a paradigm shift in Indian cricket. What had been viewed as a novelty now became a revelation. 

The Indian Revolution: T20 Finds Its Spiritual Home 

India’s victory in the 2007 World Twenty20 was more than a triumph; it was a catalyst. The Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI), long a bastion of conservatism, quickly recognized the potential of T20 as a commercial juggernaut. In 2008, the Indian Premier League (IPL) was born—a dazzling amalgam of cricket and entertainment, complete with celebrity endorsements, team franchises, and a carnival-like atmosphere. 

The IPL’s immediate success was unparalleled. Advertisers flocked, audiences swelled, and cricket found itself reimagined as a spectacle. Yet, beneath the glitz lay a deeper concern: the erosion of cricket’s soul. Test cricket, the format where legends are forged and cricket’s artistry is most evident, began to fade into the background. The nuanced battles of attrition that defined Test cricket were overshadowed by the fireworks of T20. 

The IPL’s model proved infectious. Leagues inspired by its formula sprang up across the globe—the Big Bash League in Australia, the Caribbean Premier League, the Pakistan Super League, and the Bangladesh Premier League. Each promised instant gratification, glamour, and lucrative opportunities for players. For traditionalists, this shift was bittersweet. Modernization was inevitable, but the commercialization of the sport raised questions about its long-term impact. 

The Cost of Brevity 

By the 2010s, T20 cricket had monopolized the calendar, shaping a generation of players whose techniques prioritized power over precision. The artistry of constructing an innings or outwitting a batsman over long spells gave way to an urgency that often lacked depth. Cricket’s once-revered traditions became casualties of this transformation, as players and fans gravitated toward the format’s immediacy and spectacle. 

Yet, T20’s meteoric rise brought with it a darker underbelly. The format’s brevity and unpredictability created fertile ground for corruption. As early as 2009, Lord Condon, the former head of the Anti-Corruption and Security Unit (ACSU), warned of the risks. Match-fixing, once challenging to orchestrate in the complexity of Test cricket, found a new haven in T20, where games were decided in a matter of overs, and stakes were amplified by massive viewership. 

The Threat of T10: A Step Too Far? 

As if T20 weren’t condensed enough, the advent of T10 cricket introduced an even shorter format, promising matches completed within 90 minutes. With cricket legends like Virender Sehwag, Chris Gayle, and Shahid Afridi endorsing the format, T10 gained traction. But this reduction raised existential questions: when does innovation become degradation? 

T10 threatens to strip cricket of its very identity. What was once a test of skill, endurance, and strategy risks becoming mere entertainment—a show devoid of the qualities that made cricket unique. The allure of quick money and endorsements increasingly draws players away from Test cricket, the format where true greatness is etched. Shakib Al Hasan’s decision to prioritize T10 over a Test series exemplifies this troubling trend. 

The Existential Crossroads 

Cricket now stands at a precarious juncture. The balance between tradition and modernity is tilting alarmingly toward instant gratification. While T20 and its derivatives have expanded cricket’s global reach, they have also diluted its essence. Test cricket, the pinnacle of the sport, faces an uncertain future as players and audiences shift their loyalties. 

The legacy of cricket’s greats—WG Grace, Don Bradman, Garfield Sobers—was built on the foundations of Test cricket. To lose this format would be to sever cricket from its roots, reducing it to a fleeting spectacle rather than a battle of skill, discipline, and endurance. 

As William Pollard aptly observed, “The arrogance of success is to think that what you did yesterday will be sufficient for tomorrow.” Cricket must evolve, but not at the cost of its soul. The global cricketing community must guard against excess, preserving the balance that has long made the sport a masterpiece. Without Test cricket, and perhaps even ODIs, cricket risks becoming unrecognizable—a game of lights and fireworks, but devoid of its enduring spirit. 

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

The Decline of Batting Resilience: A Modern-Day Crisis

In recent times, we have witnessed a disturbing trend in cricket, with top-class teams collapsing for embarrassing totals like 47 and 49. The debacles in South Africa this year, where batsmen struggled to cope with the ball’s movement off the seam and in the air, highlight a troubling shift in the mental approach of modern-day batters. While the bowling conditions were undoubtedly challenging, the deliveries were not unplayable. The root of the issue lies not in technique alone but in the changing temperament of today’s cricketers.  

It seems that the art of crease occupation – the backbone of traditional Test batting – is gradually fading. Modern batsmen, conditioned by the demands of limited-overs cricket and Twenty20 leagues, are increasingly prioritizing run-scoring at a frenetic pace. This eagerness to accumulate runs at four or more per over leaves little room for patience and discipline. As a result, essential skills such as soft hands, precise footwork, and adaptability are being neglected, leaving batsmen vulnerable in challenging conditions.  

The ability to knuckle down, weather the storm, and grind out an innings – traits exemplified by legends like Hanif Mohammad, Rahul Dravid, and Sunil Gavaskar – seems to have been consigned to cricket’s history books. In the current cricketing landscape, cash-rich leagues such as the IPL (Indian Premier League) and Big Bash League (BBL) dominate, offering glamour, fame, and financial rewards. While these leagues have brought excitement and spectacle to the game, they have inadvertently contributed to the erosion of batting patience and resilience.  

T20’s Influence on Test Batting  

Since the late 1970s and early 1980s, limited-overs cricket has become an integral part of the sport. It reached its pinnacle in the 1990s and soon gave birth to the adrenaline-fueled T20 format. While the advent of T20 brought new audiences and commercial opportunities, it also altered the batting approach fundamentally. Batsmen today are groomed to score quickly, often at the expense of building an innings. This mindset is now trickling into Test cricket, where aggression is too often mistaken for intent, and occupation of the crease is undervalued.  

This shift is particularly evident when one considers the absence of the legendary duels that once defined cricket’s golden age. Encounters like Michael Atherton’s defiant stand against Allan Donald, Brian Lara’s masterful dismantling of Wasim Akram, and Steve Waugh’s dogged resistance to Curtly Ambrose are etched in cricket’s folklore. These contests were about mental endurance as much as skill, battles that unfolded over sessions, not overs. But today, the appetite for such attritional cricket is waning.  

The Decline of County Cricket  

The decline of county cricket as a developmental platform for international cricketers has further exacerbated the problem. During the 1970s, 80s, and 90s, playing county cricket was considered essential for honing one’s skills and mastering the art of adaptation. Some of the greatest cricketers – including Imran Khan, Wasim Akram, Viv Richards, and Javed Miandad – refined their techniques and mental toughness through long stints in English county cricket. It was a crucible for growth, offering players exposure to varying conditions, bowlers, and styles of play.  

However, in the modern era, the focus has shifted. County cricket no longer holds the same allure for contemporary players, many of whom prioritize franchise leagues over long-form cricket. With international schedules becoming increasingly congested, the space to pursue county stints has diminished. This loss is significant, as county cricket nurtures patience and the ability to adapt – two attributes that are now conspicuously absent in many modern-day batsmen.  

A Crisis of Priorities  

For today’s cricketers, the challenge lies in recalibrating their priorities. While T20 leagues offer quick riches and instant fame, the path to cricketing greatness lies in mastering the demands of Test cricket. If players aspire to leave a legacy comparable to that of Brian Lara, Steve Waugh, or Wasim Akram, they must be willing to invest in the longer format and embrace county cricket as a stepping stone to excellence.  

The question, however, is whether the ideal balance between formats is achievable. Given the relentless cricketing calendar and the lure of franchise leagues, this balance seems increasingly elusive. Yet, the choice ultimately rests with the players. They must decide whether they want to chase short-term rewards or pursue the kind of greatness that comes from excelling in Test cricket.  

In the end, the essence of Test cricket lies not in flashy stroke play but in endurance, patience, and grit – qualities that need to be rediscovered and nurtured. The old-fashioned art of occupying the crease may appear dull in the era of fast-paced cricket, but it remains the most reliable strategy to succeed in challenging conditions. Until the modern-day batsman rediscovers this art, collapses like those in South Africa will continue to haunt the sport.  

Test cricket has survived many challenges, from the rise of one-day cricket to the explosion of T20 leagues. But its survival depends on players willing to adapt, endure, and thrive in the long form of the game. Only then can we hope to witness the kind of epic duels and heroic innings that once defined the spirit of cricket. 

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

Test Cricket’s Decline in the Age of Twenty20: A Crisis of Values and Priorities

In 2009, during an England tour, West Indies captain Chris Gayle sparked controversy when he remarked in an interview with The Guardian that he "would not feel sad if Test cricket were to die out." Gayle, the flamboyant Jamaican batter and one of the faces of the T20 revolution, unabashedly confessed his preference for the shorter, more entertaining Twenty20 (T20) format over the gruelling five-day Test. His words ignited widespread criticism from both fans and administrators, highlighting the deepening rift between the traditions of Test cricket and the commercial appeal of franchise leagues.  

A Fractured Legacy: The West Indies Dilemma  

Gayle’s controversial stance came at a time when the West Indies, once the undisputed kings of world cricket, were searching for a path back to relevance after the fall of their cricketing empire in 1995. A rare Test series victory over England in early 2009 had rekindled hope among Caribbean fans, but that glimmer of resurgence was dimmed by their crushing defeat at Lord’s in the return series. The loss wasn’t just a consequence of poor performance—it reflected a deeper cultural shift in priorities.  

Gayle had arrived late to England, prioritizing the lucrative Indian Premier League (IPL) over national duty. His decision was met with harsh criticism from the West Indies Cricket Board (WICB) and fans, who saw it as a betrayal of the team and a dereliction of leadership. Gayle, however, defended himself, accusing the board of mismanagement for scheduling the tour during the IPL window. He warned that fixture congestion would become a persistent issue as T20 tournaments expanded and came to dominate the cricketing calendar.  

"We’ve been on the road 24/7 with no time off," Gayle lamented. His words underscored the growing tension between the demands of national cricket boards and the allure of global franchise leagues—a tension that threatens to reshape the priorities of players and the structure of international cricket itself.  

The Rise of T20: A Double-Edged Sword  

T20 cricket, undoubtedly, has injected fresh energy into the game. Its fast-paced format appeals to younger audiences provides a global platform for talent, and brings unprecedented financial rewards. But this surge of popularity has come at a cost. With players increasingly prioritizing T20 contracts over national commitments, the relevance of Test cricket—a format revered for its complexity, endurance, and artistry—is under threat.  

In the West Indies, where cricket legends like Clive Lloyd, Vivian Richards, and Garfield Sobers once inspired generations, the focus has shifted from legacy to lucrative contracts. The current crop of cricketers seems less concerned with upholding the standards of their predecessors. Franchise leagues such as the IPL, with their staggering paychecks, have become the new aspiration, reducing national duty to an afterthought. This is a troubling transformation—not just for the West Indies, but for cricket as a whole.  

The Subcontinent and the Global Shift in Priorities  

While countries like England, Australia, and New Zealand continue to value Test cricket, the situation is more precarious in other parts of the world. In the subcontinent, India’s financial muscle allows it to maintain a strong Test presence, but the outlook is less promising for nations like Pakistan and Sri Lanka. With fewer resources and diminishing fan engagement, these countries may gradually lose their edge in the longest format.  

In Bangladesh, where Test cricket has always struggled to gain a foothold, the rise of T20 presents an easy escape. The glamour of franchise leagues could overshadow the grind of five-day matches, leaving Test cricket neglected. The danger is not just a diminished Test team—it’s the erosion of the values that define cricket’s rich heritage.  

A Crisis of Values: Test Cricket as the Soul of the Game  

Test cricket, more than any other format, encapsulates the essence of cricket: patience, strategy, mental toughness, and artistry. It produces legends—players like Don Bradman and Garfield Sobers—whose greatness transcends generations. T20 cricket, though thrilling, offers neither the depth nor the nuance that makes Test cricket unique. In a world increasingly captivated by instant gratification, the longer format demands a level of commitment—both from players and fans—that feels increasingly rare.  

A Possible Solution: Relegation and Revival  

To safeguard the future of Test cricket, the cricketing think tank must act decisively. One potential solution is the introduction of a **relegation system**. Under this model, underperforming Test teams would lose their elite status and be relegated to a second tier, where they would compete in a four-day format to regain their position. While this approach might reduce the number of Test-playing nations, it would ensure that only the best teams compete at the highest level, maintaining the quality and prestige of Test cricket.  

This system would also compel struggling teams to take Test cricket seriously. If facilities, funding, and status were tied to performance, even financially weaker nations would be motivated to invest in the longer format. A relegation system would restore a sense of accountability and encourage teams to balance their focus between T20 leagues and Test commitments.  

Preserving the Legacy: A Call to Action  

The future of cricket depends on more than just commercial success; it relies on preserving the spirit that has defined the game for over a century. T20 leagues have their place—they introduce new fans to the game and provide financial stability. But they must not be allowed to overshadow the value of Test cricket. Cricket’s governing bodies, along with players and fans, must recognize that the two formats can coexist—but not at the cost of Test cricket’s integrity.  

Players like Gayle will always have their admirers—those who see nothing wrong with prioritizing personal gain over national pride. But cricket needs more than entertainers. It needs role models who understand that greatness is not just about runs or wickets—it’s about leaving a legacy.  

The younger generation, currently captivated by the glamour of T20, must be educated about the richness of the longer format. The charm of Test cricket lies not in instant gratification but in the narrative arcs it weaves over five days—battles of attrition, shifting momentum, and moments of brilliance that linger in memory.  

If cricket’s administrators fail to act, the game may lose more than just a format; it may lose its soul. The responsibility lies not just with the boards or players, but with all who love the game. Test cricket is not just a relic of the past—it is the foundation upon which the future of cricket must be built. The task ahead is to strike a balance between commercial success and sporting excellence—a balance that will ensure cricket, in all its forms, continues to flourish.

Thank You 

Faisal Caesar 

Cricket at Crossroads: The IPL Dilemma and The Spirit of the Game

The modern world of cricket finds itself at a crossroads, torn between the glitz and glamour of franchise leagues and the age-old values of national pride and integrity. As a long-time follower of West Indies cricket, my heart aches to witness the once-dominant Caribbean side crumble under the weight of inconsistent performances. These disappointments are not just the result of declining skills but seem rooted in a deeper malaise - the prioritization of financial gains over national duty. 

The IPL and the Rise of Franchise Cricket

At the heart of this conflict lies the Indian Premier League (IPL), an extravagant tournament that has redefined the landscape of modern cricket. With its fast-paced matches, star-studded lineups, and after-match revelries, the IPL offers a heady cocktail of fame, fortune, and fanfare. For many international cricketers, the lure of franchise cricket has become irresistible, as it promises wealth far beyond what national boards can offer. 

West Indian stalwarts like Chris Gayle and Dwayne Bravo, once central to their nation’s cricketing identity, now appear more engrossed in IPL festivities than in representing the Caribbean. The sight of these players enjoying after-match parties, seemingly indifferent to their national team’s struggles back home, is a stark reminder of how modern-day priorities have shifted. 

A Crisis of Loyalty and Passion

For a fan who grew up admiring the fiery commitment of legends like Malcolm Marshall and Viv Richards, the current scenario feels like a betrayal. Cricket was once a stage for showcasing national pride, where victory for one’s country meant more than personal accolades or financial rewards. But today, it seems that many cricketers have succumbed to a different kind of ambition - one measured in bank balances, not Test victories. 

This shift is not limited to the Caribbean. Even Indian cricket, traditionally anchored in national pride, is not immune. Gautam Gambhir, known for his gritty performances for India, played through injury during an IPL eliminator to ensure his franchise’s success. As a result, he compromised his fitness for national duty, forcing him to miss the subsequent tour to the West Indies. His teammate Virender Sehwag also opted out of the tour, raising further questions about players’ priorities. 

Renowned columnist Sharda Ugra aptly captured the dilemma when she questioned, *“Had the IPL distracted them all?”* This haunting inquiry reflects a growing unease among fans and critics alike - has cricket’s soul been compromised in pursuit of quick riches? 

The Moral Dilemma: Cash or Country?

While it is understandable that athletes seek financial security, how they chase these rewards raises moral questions. The rise of franchise leagues has fostered a culture where national duties are sometimes treated as secondary obligations. The passion and commitment that once defined the sport are now overshadowed by the relentless pursuit of wealth. 

Cricketers are within their rights to pursue financial opportunities, but the erosion of loyalty towards their countries tarnishes the integrity of the game. The question we must ask is not whether players should earn money but whether they should sacrifice their nation’s pride to do so. 

The IPL: Catalyst or Culprit

It is tempting to lay the blame squarely on the IPL for fostering a mercenary mindset among players. Indeed, the league’s lavish rewards have transformed many athletes into what seem like mercenaries, chasing contracts instead of caps. Yet, the IPL is merely a symptom of a larger issue - the commercialization of sports and the moral dilemmas it brings. 

The problem lies not just in the existence of franchise cricket but in the way it reshapes priorities. For many players, the IPL offers more than just financial incentives; it offers celebrity status, lifestyle perks, and global exposure. But at what cost? When the pursuit of glamour begins to eclipse the essence of the game, the spirit of cricket is in peril. 

 The Need for Balance and Reform

To preserve the essence of cricket, a balance must be struck between financial incentives and national responsibilities. Governing bodies like the International Cricket Council (ICC) and national boards need to implement policies that encourage players to prioritize international commitments. Stricter contracts, better scheduling, and financial parity between leagues and national teams could help align players’ interests with the long-term health of the sport. 

More importantly, the cricketing fraternity must reignite the passion for playing for one's country. The pride of donning the national jersey should not be eclipsed by the allure of franchise colours. Players must realize that their legacy will not be defined by the number of T20 leagues they conquer but by the contributions they make to their nation’s cricketing history. 

Saving Cricket from Its Own Success

The IPL has undoubtedly revolutionized cricket, but its unchecked growth risks devouring the very spirit that makes the game special. Cricket was never just about money—it was about community, heritage, and the pursuit of excellence for one’s country. If modern players continue to prioritize cash over country, the game as we know it will be at risk of losing its soul. 

The crazy money train must be reined in, not to stop progress but to ensure that cricket’s heart still beats with the same passion and integrity that once inspired generations. If not, the beautiful game may find itself reduced to a soulless spectacle - a carnival of cash, devoid of pride, spirit, and meaning. 

It is up to the players, boards, and fans to decide: Will cricket remain a symbol of national pride, or will it become just another business venture? The future of the game hangs in the balance, and it is a choice that must be made soon—for the love of cricket and for the generations to come.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

   

The Evolution of Cricket: A Perspective on the Twenty20 Format

In 2003, the England and Wales Cricket Board (ECB) responded to declining spectator interest and reduced sponsorship by introducing a new format at the County level: a 20-over-per-innings structure, designed to be completed within a two-and-a-half-hour window for each innings, accompanied by a brief 10-minute break. This shift came after the conclusion of the Benson and Hedges Cup in 2002, as the ECB sought to reinvigorate one-day cricket and attract a younger audience, often deterred by the longer, more traditional formats.

The vision was to deliver a fast-paced, exciting version of cricket that would resonate with fans who found the traditional game too lengthy. Stuart Robertson, the ECB's marketing manager, advocated for this innovative format, initially proposed by New Zealand cricketer Martin Crowe. In a pivotal vote among county chairmen in 2001, the proposal passed with an 11-7 majority, paving the way for the format's launch on June 13, 2003. The inaugural event was met with enthusiasm, instantly capturing the attention of a diverse audience.

The appeal of the format was undeniable; the entertainment factor became a significant draw for viewers. However, as the format expanded onto the international stage, I found myself disengaged. The evolution of cricket necessitated a reevaluation of its essence; the emergence of Twenty20 leagues further complicated the landscape, yet I initially embraced this new wave.

Over time, however, I began to recognize the adverse effects of this rapid evolution on the game. The brief 20-over matches do not provide a comprehensive assessment of a player's abilities. Traditionalists argue that the five-day Test format remains the true benchmark for evaluating cricketers. Today's young players often celebrate quick scores, focusing on short bursts of runs rather than the foundational technical skills and mental fortitude that Test cricket demands.

There is a growing trend where aspiring cricketers prioritize participation in lucrative Twenty20 leagues, particularly the Indian Premier League (IPL), over first-class cricket. Young athletes seem content to specialize in a limited skill set, eschewing the development of varied bowling techniques in favour of containment strategies. This shift raises concerns about the future of the sport; if young players continue to prioritize short-format cricket, the long-term health of traditional formats - including the 50-over game - may be at risk.

As I distance myself from following the Twenty20 leagues, my focus has shifted towards international T20 matches, yet a nagging feeling persists: this is not the cricket I once knew. The proliferation of the Twenty20 format and its associated leagues threatens to undermine the very fabric of the game. The risk lies in the potential for cricket to lose its intrinsic appeal, becoming more of a spectacle than a sport.

An overemphasis on any single format can be detrimental. The essence of cricket - the soul of the game - lies within Test cricket, where legends are forged and true mastery is displayed. In contrast, the shorter formats risk producing players who, while entertaining, may lack the depth and resilience that define greatness in the sport.

The evolution towards Twenty20 may, indeed, transform into a double-edged sword, posing a genuine threat to cricket's core values. As the game continues to adapt, we must ask ourselves: what price are we willing to pay for popularity? Ultimately, we must safeguard the soul of cricket before it is lost to the relentless pursuit of fleeting entertainment.

Thank you, 

Faisal Caesar