A Test of Nerves: England’s Collapse and Pakistan’s Grit

Cricket has a way of exposing not just talent, but temperament. It does not simply reward dominance; it tests resilience, punishes lapses, and, at times, delivers verdicts that defy logic. In Multan, under a sky heavy with expectation, England—a team that had conquered the mighty Australians—found themselves unravelling in a Test match they had controlled for four days. 

Victory had seemed inevitable. And yet, as the dust settled on the final afternoon, it was Pakistan, the side so often labelled as mercurial, that stood victorious by 22 runs. The vanquished, stunned and disbelieving, could only ponder how a match seemingly in their grasp had slipped through their fingers. 

A Collapse That Defied Explanation

The morning of the final day dawned with England needing 198 to win—an achievable target on a surface that had offered little demons. At 64 for one, they were well on their way. But then, in a passage of play that will be etched in memory as one of England’s most inexplicable implosions, they lost five wickets in the space of ten overs. 

Suddenly, 101 for six loomed on the scoreboard. The once assured pursuit had turned into a desperate salvage operation. This was not a case of unplayable deliveries or a deteriorating pitch conspiring against them. It was something far simpler: lapses in judgment, reckless aggression where patience was required, and a collective loss of nerve. 

So often in the previous year, England had wrung out victories from tight situations. This time, the vice had tightened around them. 

Trescothick’s Burden and England’s Early Promise

With Michael Vaughan absent due to a knee injury, Marcus Trescothick was entrusted with leading England. His captaincy had been questioned before the match, but any doubts were swiftly silenced by his actions with the bat. In a performance of sheer dominance, he crafted a magnificent 193—an innings so commanding that it towered over every other contribution in the match. 

Yet, unknown to most at the time, Trescothick was carrying a private anguish. His father-in-law lay critically injured in a Bristol hospital after a severe accident. The weight of that crisis, coupled with the demands of leading his country, made his innings all the more remarkable. 

His 305-ball vigil, laced with 20 fours and two soaring sixes off Danish Kaneria, was a masterclass in control. When he was finally dismissed just after lunch on the third day, England had a lead of 144—substantial, yet not insurmountable. The score could have been far greater; they had been 251 for two before squandering opportunities in a way that would prove costly. 

Pakistan’s fielding—rusty from a lack of Test cricket since June—had gifted them 22 no-balls and several lapses. But there were no such allowances when Pakistan came out to bat again. 

Pakistan’s Fightback: The Captain’s Composure and a Turning Point

Pakistan’s second innings was a study in contrast. While England’s discipline in the field remained intact, Salman Butt and Inzamam-ul-Haq, two batsmen of different generations, set about ensuring Pakistan clawed back into the contest. 

Butt’s batting was built on self-awareness. He understood his strengths, played within his limits, and worked the gaps with quiet precision. At the other end, Inzamam, ever the enigma, cut an unmistakable figure. Even in the rising heat, he refused to take the field without his signature sleeveless sweater—a curious contradiction for a man whose strokeplay was all silk and ease. 

And then, with the game hanging in delicate balance, the second new ball changed everything. 

Hoggard, England’s tireless workhorse, sent down his second delivery with the fresh cherry and found Inzamam’s pad in front of the stumps. The Pakistan captain, so often their rock in troubled waters, was gone. Panic set in. 

Flintoff, sensing blood, pounced. He removed two more in rapid succession. Harmison, inconsistent but always a threat, claimed the final two. Pakistan had been blown away in a flurry of wickets, their innings folding at 341. 

The target for England? 198. 

A Chase That Became a Nightmare

On a Multan pitch that still bore no treachery, England’s path to victory seemed straightforward. Even after losing Trescothick late on the fourth evening, they resumed the final morning in a position of strength at 64 for one. 

And then, the recklessness began. 

Ian Bell, patient in the first innings, threw away his wicket in a misguided attempt to dominate Kaneria. He was the first of three wickets to fall in the space of eight balls. 

The collapse sent ripples of anxiety through the England camp, but they still had their power hitters in Flintoff and Pietersen. Surely, one of them would stand up? 

Flintoff’s response was cavalier—too much so. In a moment of impetuous abandon, he launched into a wild heave that found the hands of deep midwicket. It was not the shot of a man trying to win a Test match, but of one caught between instinct and responsibility. 

Pietersen, England’s talisman throughout the Ashes, flailed at a delivery he had no business chasing. The edge was inevitable. The English dressing room, which had exuded confidence hours earlier, was now a study in disbelief. 

The last semblance of hope came in the form of Geraint Jones. He fought valiantly, bringing England within 32 runs of victory before Shoaib Akhtar—a rejuvenated force in the second innings—produced a devastating delivery that crashed into his stumps via bat and pad. 

Ten balls later, it was over. 

A Lesson in Test Cricket’s Cruelty

As Pakistan celebrated, England were left to reflect on a bitter truth—one bad hour can undo four days of dominance. 

For Pakistan, this was a victory carved from resilience and opportunism. They had not been the superior side for the majority of the match, but they had seized the decisive moments. Inzamam, ever the reluctant warrior, had marshalled his team with quiet authority. Kaneria had learned from his first innings and struck when it mattered. Shoaib Akhtar had risen to the occasion in his second spell. 

For England, it was a humbling reminder that even the most well-drilled unit can succumb to pressure. They had carried the aura of Ashes conquerors into this series, but in Multan, they encountered a team that refused to bow. 

The defeat stung all the more because of its suddenness. There was no slow disintegration, no drawn-out battle of attrition—just an hour of madness that turned an expected victory into a painful lesson. 

As they walked off, England’s players wore the look of a team that knew they had let something slip. Pakistan, so often cast as the unpredictable ones, had instead been the side that held their nerve. 

In the end, it was a reminder of why Test cricket remains the purest form of the game. It does not simply reward skill—it rewards composure. And in Multan, it was Pakistan who had more of it when it mattered most.

 Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

A Trial by Fire in Multan: Pakistan’s Triumph and Bangladesh’s Reckoning

Setting the Stage

The Multan Cricket Stadium, newly inaugurated as Test cricket’s 81st venue, welcomed Bangladesh with hope and Pakistan with expectation. For Bangladesh, it was a chance to avoid defeat in their fourth Test; for Pakistan, a homecoming wrapped in the fervour of returning Test cricket to Multan after two decades. Yet, by the third morning, the contest had turned into a study in extremes — Pakistan’s dominance illuminating Bangladesh’s frailties. What unfolded was one of the heaviest defeats in Test history, raising sharp questions about the International Cricket Council’s haste in granting Bangladesh Test status.

Bangladesh’s Faltering Beginnings

The visitors’ optimism was short-lived. Skipper Naimur Rahman chose to bat on a surface expected to take turn, but his side’s lack of technique and patience was soon exposed. Within 41.1 overs — barely two sessions — they were dismissed for 134. Coincidence became cruelty when their second innings consumed the same number of overs, though yielding 14 more runs. Habibul Bashar, with a composed 56 not out, alone offered resistance, his effort a solitary beacon in otherwise cavalier batting.

Pakistan’s Batting Masterclass

If Bangladesh’s innings revealed fragility, Pakistan’s response embodied exuberance. They amassed 546 for three declared at a dazzling 4.75 runs an over, striking 82 boundaries in a display that bordered on the theatrical. Saeed Anwar, fluent and destructive, crossed 4,000 Test runs while racing to 101. His partner, the debutant Taufeeq Umar, etched his name in history as Pakistan’s eighth batsman to score a century on debut.

Inzamam-ul-Haq, the local hero, fulfilled a childhood dream with a century in front of his home crowd, though dehydration forced him to retire. From there, Yousuf Youhana and Abdul Razzaq turned the spectacle into a race for glory — both storming to centuries, their unbroken partnership of 165 an exhibition of command. Four of the five centuries were scored in a single day, a statistical feat that elevated the performance into the annals of Test cricket.

The Bowling Symphony: Spin and Pace in Concert

If Pakistan’s batsmen were overwhelmed with artistry, their bowlers dismantled Bangladesh with ruthless efficiency. Danish Kaneria, still in the infancy of his career, spun webs with bounce and guile, taking six wickets in each innings for just 94 runs. Ten dismissals fell to close-in catches, four pouched by Younis Khan, who set a record for a substitute fielder. Waqar Younis contributed with a fiery spell of 4 for 19, while even debutant Shoaib Malik chipped in with two wickets.

Bangladesh’s second innings — beginning with a mountain to climb — collapsed under the twin pressure of Kaneria’s spin and Waqar’s pace. Bashar again fought with dignity, but his defiance was lonely. The team folded for 148, and the inevitable innings-and-264-run defeat was sealed within two and a half days.

 Records and Rarities

This match was not merely lopsided; it was historically significant.

Five Centuries in One Innings: Pakistan’s 546 for three is the lowest total to include five hundreds, eclipsing the West Indies’ 550 with four in 1982–83.

Left-Handed Landmarks: For the first time in Test history, both left-handed openers — Anwar and Taufeeq — scored centuries in the same innings.

Twin Century Partnerships for the Same Wicket: Youhana was central to two unbroken century stands for the fourth wicket, a unique feat.

Centuries on Debut in Successive Tests: Taufeeq Umar’s hundred in Multan was mirrored the very next day in Colombo by Sri Lanka’s T.T. Samaraweera — a quirky coincidence in Test lore.

A Match Shadowed by Tragedy

Yet amid the celebrations, the occasion was darkened by personal grief. Saeed Anwar, whose century had opened the floodgates, learned of the death of his young daughter, Bismah, during the match. His quiet exit from the contest lent the triumph a sombre undertone — a reminder that cricket’s ecstasies are never far from life’s sorrows.

Lessons and Legacies

For Pakistan, the match was both a statement of strength and a glimpse of the future: Kaneria’s rise as a genuine spin threat, Umar’s promising debut, and a batting order overflowing with confidence. For Bangladesh, it was a stark confrontation with reality. Their elevation to Test cricket was intended to accelerate development, but the gulf in skill and temperament suggested a premature leap.

Multan, with its scorching heat and fervent crowds, staged not only a contest but also a metaphor: Pakistan’s cricket blossomed under the sun, while Bangladesh wilted in its glare. The innings defeat, emphatic and historic, was both a celebration of Pakistani brilliance and an urgent call for Bangladesh to rebuild if they were to claim a place among the serious nations of Test cricket.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

Sehwag’s Multan Massacre: A Saga of Brilliance, Bravado, and Bittersweet History

Multan, a city where myths of conquests and legends of empires intertwine, became the backdrop for a cricketing battle that would etch itself into the annals of the sport. More than two millennia after Alexander the Great supposedly fell to a poisoned arrow in this very land, another warrior, armed not with a sword but with a bat, carved out his own path to immortality. The city bore witness to an onslaught as relentless as any waged in its storied past—this time, not by soldiers in armour, but by a marauder from Najafgarh. 

The Indian and Pakistani cricketing arch-rivals had last met in a Test match on Pakistani soil nearly a decade and a half earlier. This long-anticipated battle, however, played out before a disappointingly sparse crowd, leaving the 28,000-seat Multan Cricket Stadium eerily desolate. Those who did show up were, however, compensated with an exhibition of carnage, a breathtaking display of dominance that resonated like the echoes of an ancient war cry. 

The Blade of Sehwag and the End of an Era

What unfolded over those three days was as much an execution as it was a cricket match. From the moment Virender Sehwag took his stance, there was no room for tradition, no patience for the cautious decorum that Test cricket often demands. Instead, the Pakistan bowlers faced an unsparing assailant, wielding his bat like a broadsword, hacking through their defences with unrelenting fury. 

Sehwag's opening stand with Akash Chopra lasted nearly 40 overs, with the latter’s measured approach providing a mere whisper of restraint to the storm raging at the other end. When Chopra fell for 42, the score had already ballooned to 160—an ominous sign for the hosts. 

Rahul Dravid, captaining in the absence of an injured Sourav Ganguly, departed swiftly, but this did little to stem the flood. Instead, it brought to the crease Sachin Tendulkar, and with him, a contrast so stark it could have been sculpted in stone. Where Sehwag was all brute force and untamed aggression, Tendulkar was precision incarnate, a surgeon wielding his scalpel alongside a berserker swinging his axe. The two men combined for an onslaught that left the Pakistanis dazed. 

By the time the first day closed, India had galloped to 356 for two. Sehwag, undefeated on 228, had already ensured his innings would be spoken of in reverent whispers. His sole moment of pause came on 199, where he endured an uncharacteristic 11-ball drought, perhaps haunted by the memory of his dismissal for 195 at Melbourne a year earlier. Once past that psychological hurdle, however, he resumed his onslaught with renewed ferocity. 

Yet, as Sehwag ascended towards cricketing immortality, another figure faded into the shadows. Saqlain Mushtaq, once Pakistan’s wily spin wizard, was mercilessly dismantled in this very match. His flighted deliveries, which had once undone the best in the world, were now being hurled into the stands with impunity. The man who had once outfoxed Tendulkar with the 'doosra' was reduced to a mere bystander as Sehwag sealed his fate. His Test career, which had once promised so much, ended abruptly here in Multan, mirroring Alexander’s fabled demise on this very soil. 

History Forged with a Six

The second day dawned with history in the making. Sehwag, carrying his ferocious momentum, hurtled towards a milestone no Indian had ever achieved before. His journey to 300, however, was not without drama. He offered two more chances, neither of which Pakistan capitalized on, and by then, his will was indomitable. 

As he stood at 299, a curious warning came from the other end. Tendulkar, ever the embodiment of prudence, advised caution—no risky shots now, no recklessness on the brink of history. But Sehwag, never one to be bound by caution or tradition, had no room in his uncluttered mind for trepidation. 

Saqlain Mushtaq tossed one up, perhaps seeking redemption. Sehwag advanced, bat raised like a warrior charging into battle, and launched the ball over long-on with nonchalant disdain. With that one audacious stroke, he became the first Indian to score a triple hundred in Test cricket. It took him just 364 balls, only two more than the then-fastest triple century by Matthew Hayden. 

His innings ended soon after, edging a delivery from Mohammad Sami to slip. The final numbers were staggering—309 runs, 531 minutes, 39 fours, and six sixes. Pakistan had been butchered, their bowling shredded beyond recognition. 

A Twist in the Tale: The Shadow over 194 not out

Even as Sehwag’s heroics dominated the narrative, another subplot was unfolding in the backdrop—one that would spark controversy, debate, and lingering whispers of discontent. 

Tendulkar, crafting an innings of grace and efficiency, had worked his way to 194. His strokeplay was measured, his intent clear—he was building a monolithic score, laying down the foundation for a colossal Indian total. However, as tea approached, a decision was brewing in the Indian camp, one that would send shockwaves through the cricketing world. 

According to John Wright’s account in Indian Summers, the players were informed at tea that they had 15 overs before declaration. However, with Yuvraj Singh’s dismissal on 59, Dravid called the innings to a close after just 13.5 overs, leaving Tendulkar stranded six runs short of what would have been a poetic double century on Pakistani soil—the land where his legend had first begun as a 16-year-old. 

The decision, though strategic, was poorly communicated. Tendulkar, unaware of the impending declaration, walked off visibly bewildered. What followed was an unnecessary storm of speculation. Was it a calculated move to deny a personal milestone? Was there friction within the team? Or was it simply a tactical call that, due to miscommunication, left an unfortunate aftertaste? 

Tendulkar’s comments in the media did little to douse the flames, and his absence from the field due to a supposed ankle injury only fueled further speculation. Yet, before the rumour mill could run wild, Wright intervened, ensuring a private conversation between Dravid and Tendulkar. Whatever misunderstandings had arisen, they were ironed out behind closed doors, and the team moved forward as one. 

The Final Blow: A Triumph 49 Years in the Making

Pakistan, though battered, was not entirely vanquished. Inzamam-ul-Haq and Yasir Hameed launched a spirited counterattack, temporarily threatening to drag the game towards a high-scoring draw. But India’s relentless pursuit of victory was embodied by Anil Kumble, who claimed seven wickets in the decisive fourth day, shattering Pakistan’s resistance. 

A desperate hundred by Yousuf Youhana merely delayed the inevitable, dragging the match into the fifth day by just two overs. At long last, after 21 Tests spread across 49 years, India had conquered Pakistani soil in Test cricket. And it had taken the irresistible force of Sehwag’s bat to shatter the jinx. 

Legacy of the Multan Test

Sehwag’s 309 remains one of the most merciless innings ever played, a ruthless spectacle that combined raw aggression with fearless execution. But the match is remembered not just for that historic triple century, but also for the controversy surrounding the declaration, which added an unexpected twist to an otherwise glorious Indian triumph. 

Multan, the city of legends, witnessed a new saga written in the annals of cricket. Alexander may have fallen here, but Sehwag rose, immortalized by the resounding echoes of his bat, carving his name alongside the great conquerors of the past.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

Pakistan Cricket: A Legacy of Triumphs, Chaos, and False Dawns

Pakistan cricket has long embodied a paradox—oscillating between brilliance and bewilderment. It is a team that, historically, has needed crisis as a catalyst for revival. The pattern is familiar: humiliation precedes resurgence. Time and again, it takes a crushing defeat—what one might metaphorically call a punch to the face or a kick to the gut—for Pakistan to reawaken. 

Consider the state of affairs before the second Test at Multan against England. The team was in shambles, still reeling from their World Cup misadventures the previous year, and their defeat in the opening Test only deepened the despair. Drastic changes followed: key players were dropped, sparking heated debate and confusion. Yet, by the close of Day 4 in Multan, the narrative had shifted dramatically. Pakistan had secured a convincing victory, momentarily quelling the chaos. But was this triumph a genuine turning point or just another fleeting glimmer of hope? 

Since the departure of Imran Khan from cricket, Pakistan has perfected the art of masking deep-rooted issues. They falter one week, bounce back the next, and create the illusion of stability. In reality, the problems are swept under the carpet, only to resurface later. What Pakistan cricket has lacked—and continues to lack—is a robust system that fosters resilience and consistency. Too often, they rely on bursts of individual brilliance rather than the reliability of a structured approach. 

A System Built on Whims, Not Wisdom

For over three decades, Pakistan cricket has thrived on unpredictability, depending on raw talent to carry the day. While this has resulted in some spectacular victories, the credit goes to gifted individuals rather than any coherent system. The team’s inability to cultivate dependable cricketers who can sustain their form across series reflects the absence of long-term planning. Players emerge, dazzle briefly, and then vanish without a trace. 

This tendency was exemplified in Multan, where the veteran spin duo of Nauman Ali and Sajid Khan reminded the world of Pakistan’s tradition of producing exceptional spinners. At a combined age of 69, both thrived on a pitch tailored to their strengths, securing seven-wicket hauls and etching their names in the record books. Their efforts joined the ranks of iconic performances such as Glenn McGrath and Michael Kasprowicz's feats at The Oval in 1997 and Fazal Mahmood’s heroics against Australia in 1956. 

Remarkably, this was only the third instance in Pakistan’s history where spinners took all 20 wickets in a Test match. Yet, the question lingers: why weren’t bowlers like Nauman and Sajid given such opportunities earlier on home soil? The answer lies in Pakistan’s penchant for inconsistency—using players sporadically and discarding them just as quickly. 

The Role of Intelligence in Team Building

Intelligence in cricket isn’t just about reading the pitch; it’s about selecting players best suited for each format and nurturing them with consistent opportunities. Pakistan’s long-standing tendency to rotate squads haphazardly—without a clear strategy—has hindered the development of a cohesive unit. In the longer formats, patience is essential. Players need to feel secure in their place, free from the constant fear that each match might be their last. 

A prime example of Pakistan’s potential lies in Kamran Ghulam, who could emerge as the solution to the team’s middle-order woes in both Tests and ODIs. Similarly, the likes of Asad Shafiq, Saud Shakeel, and Salman Ali Agha offer promise. With a blend of experience and youth, these players could form the backbone of the batting order, while Aamer Jamal and Mohammad Rizwan provide the finishing touch. But this vision will only materialize if Pakistan cricket embraces a culture of consistency and planning. 

Leadership and Legacy: Beyond Short-Term Success

A key factor in Pakistan’s future success will be leadership. The captain must lead by example, guiding the team through rough patches with composure and clarity. More than ever, the need for capable backups is vital, ensuring that the team has depth across all formats. Yet leadership alone cannot solve systemic issues—it must be accompanied by institutional reforms that prioritize long-term growth over short-term fixes. 

Levelling the series against England may offer temporary relief, but for Pakistan cricket to truly rise, it must transcend its reliance on spontaneous brilliance. A system built on consistency, intelligence, and foresight is the only sustainable way forward. 

The Road Ahead: From Chaos to Consistency

Pakistan’s cricketing history is punctuated with moments of glory, but those moments have often been followed by periods of decline. This cycle of chaos and resurgence has become all too familiar. The challenge now is to break free from this pattern and build a system that nurtures talent methodically. Pakistan must learn from its past—not merely celebrate victories or lament defeats but strive for consistency across all formats. 

In the end, it’s not enough to survive on gifted talent alone. Pakistan cricket needs to cultivate a culture where success isn’t a product of whim but the result of strategy, patience, and vision. Only then can Pakistan move from being a team of mercurial highs and lows to one that dominates the cricketing world consistently and meaningfully.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar   

Brook’s Brilliance and Pakistan’s Collapse: A Tragicomedy in Multan

The fourth day of the Multan Test will be remembered for two starkly contrasting narratives: Harry Brook’s rise to greatness and Pakistan’s steady unravelling. England’s fearless cricket, embodied in Brook’s remarkable innings, was met with a Pakistan team adrift, their captain Shan Masood smiling through the carnage like a figure lost in a tragicomedy. The field seemed a stage where Pakistan’s players resembled characters in a surreal, disjointed film, while Brook and Joe Root methodically dismantled what was left of Pakistan’s resolve.

Shan Masood’s leadership - or lack thereof - was glaringly evident. As the Pakistani captain, his body language was baffling, wandering across the field with a casual smile that felt entirely out of place. 

Comparisons to the Joker, with his unsettling grin masking deeper confusion, were apt. It wasn’t just that Masood’s team was losing; it was the apparent lack of direction that made the loss all the more painful. 

He seemed to exude an air of detachment as if the gravity of the situation hadn’t yet dawned on him. This is not the hallmark of a leader who commands respect or control over his team.

Babar Azam, a player of immense individual talent, looked more like a disoriented figure on this particular day. Labelled whimsically as the "Lady Gaga of Joker 2," Babar was a shadow of his usual self. His focus and commitment have raised questions, with a dropped catch at a critical juncture turning the tide further in England’s favour. That missed chance allowed Joe Root to escape on 186, and from there, the dominance only intensified.

Wicketkeeper Mohammad Rizwan, a man known for his grit, seemed to be mentally elsewhere, enduring the scorching heat behind the stumps. His usual sharpness was missing as the Pakistan bowling attack, spearheaded by the once-dominant Shaheen Shah Afridi and Naseem Shah, faltered. 

The analogy of the two running in like schoolboys rather than the heirs of Wasim Akram and Waqar Younis could not have been more cutting. Shaheen’s failure to make the ball talk, combined with Naseem’s lack of penetration, exposed the hollowness in Pakistan’s once-formidable pace attack.

The rest of the team appeared to be mere costars in this tragic play, underperforming, demoralized, and out of ideas. Their collective inability to rise to the occasion, despite the mounting pressure, made the English dominance all the more painful to watch.

While Pakistan crumbled, Harry Brook stood tall, playing an innings that will go down in Test cricket lore. His performance was not just a display of skill but a bold declaration of the future of the game. 

Brook’s knock of 300 was more than an individual milestone; it symbolised a new generation of cricketers who approach the Test format with the same aggressive mindset cultivated in limited-overs cricket.

Joe Root, the seasoned campaigner, was the perfect foil to Brook’s youthful exuberance. Together, their partnership of 454 runs against Pakistan was an exhibition of England’s modern-day “Bazball” philosophy, where aggression is no longer the enemy of patience. It was a performance that effectively bled Pakistan dry. The dropped catch by Babar Azam only added to the symbolism of the moment—a Pakistan side falling apart in the face of unrelenting pressure.

Brook’s ability to shift gears at will stood out. He began his innings with the restraint of a classical Test batsman, respecting the conditions and the opposition. Yet, as Pakistan’s bowlers began to tire, Brook became an aggressor. His crisp footwork against spin, ability to find gaps, and clean, powerful hitting turned the contest into a one-sided affair. His use of the crease—dancing down the wicket to smother spin or rocking back to cut and pull—was a masterclass in how to play spin in subcontinental conditions.

It wasn’t just the runs but the strike rate at which Brook amassed them that set his innings apart. His 300 came at a pace unheard of in Test cricket’s traditional approach, further emphasizing the changing dynamics of the game. Brook’s triple century was a feast for purists and a signal of where the game is headed: innovation and aggression are no longer confined to the shorter formats.

Pakistan’s performance resembled a farcical tragedy. 

In this drama, Shan Masood’s hollow smiles and clueless leadership brought to mind the tragicomedy of characters like Beckett’s Vladimir and Estragon, endlessly waiting for something - anything - that might turn their fortunes around. But no rescue came, and the team was left exposed under the relentless assault of Brook and Root.

Meanwhile, England, led by the indefatigable Joe Root and the rising star Harry Brook, delivered a performance straight out of a Shakespearean epic. Brook, the young prince, ascended to greatness in the oppressive heat of Multan, displaying the kind of brilliance that turns players into legends. In a sense, his innings felt like a coronation—a young knight stepping into the realm of the cricketing greats.

Root’s dismissal, finally falling LBW to Salman Agha, felt like the briefest of interruptions in an otherwise flawless narrative. His innings, extended by Babar’s fateful dropped catch, added an almost tragic irony to Pakistan’s misery. 

Brook’s innings was a reflection of where Test cricket stands today, poised between the old and the new. While traditionalists might yearn for the days of grinding out innings, Brook’s 300 showed that aggression, when channelled correctly, can coexist with patience and endurance. His innings embodied the modern ethos of Test cricket—fast-paced, fearless, and dynamic.

At just 25, Brook’s maturity and adaptability in Multan signalled the arrival of a new superstar, one who will likely shape the future of Test cricket. His performance will be remembered not only for the runs but for the way he played them, methodically, elegantly, and with aggression that signalled the changing tide in the game.

In the end, as Pakistan’s players left the field defeated, their disjointed efforts stood in stark contrast to England’s fluid, attacking cricket. 

Brook’s triple century may well be remembered as a turning point in the annals of Test cricket, a moment when the future took its first real strides into the present. For Pakistan, the match will serve as a bitter reminder that smiles alone can’t win matches; in the end, strategy, grit, and determination are what separate champions from the rest.

Thank You 

Faisal Caesar 

Pakistan Feels the Heat: Root and Brook Punish The Host

On a benign, placid deck, the English batsmen revelled in what was little more than a leisurely exercise against a toothless Pakistani bowling attack. They scored at an impressive rate of five runs per over until fatigue set in, slowing the pace only slightly to 4.87 runs per over across 101 overs—an ideal demonstration of modern-day cricket on a flat pitch, where bowlers lacking bite pose little threat.

Among the Englishmen, it was Harry Brook who appeared to savour the conditions most. It was on England's previous tour of Pakistan that Brook announced his arrival to the world, amassing 468 runs at an average of 93.60, including centuries in all three Tests. Once more, Brook picked up where he left off, resuming his mastery over Pakistan’s bowling unit.

His half-century came in just 49 deliveries, marking his fifth score of fifty-plus in six innings against this opposition. His second fifty was more measured, taking 69 balls, but even so, his strike rate hovered around the 80-plus mark. By no means was Brook finished; he seemed poised to inflict even more damage on the beleaguered Pakistani attack.

The Yorkshire duo of Root and Brook forged a monumental 243-run stand (and counting), the third consecutive century partnership in the innings. Earlier, Zak Crawley’s fluent 78 and Ben Duckett’s solid 84 provided the platform, contributing to 109- and 136-run partnerships for the second and third wickets, respectively.

Yet, the day truly belonged to Joe Root, who ascended to the pinnacle of English Test cricket by becoming the highest run-scorer in England’s history. Since his debut against India at Nagpur in 2012, Root’s rise has been nothing short of remarkable.

Root’s ascent to this historic milestone, surpassing Sir Alastair Cook’s long-standing record, has elevated him from a player of enormous promise to an undisputed legend. His journey has not been merely about accumulating runs; it is the story of a cricketer who has shouldered the weight of his team’s hopes across different eras, often standing as the lone bulwark against opposition attacks. His technique is a masterful blend of classical strokeplay and modern aggression, allowing him to adapt seamlessly to any scenario.

What distinguishes Root is not just his consistency but his ability to marry elegance with pragmatism. His innings can be as patient and composed as they are expansive and aggressive, depending on what the situation demands. His deep cricketing intellect, coupled with his adaptability to varying conditions, is what has made him a towering figure in English cricket.

Across a career filled with highs and lows, Root’s batting has been the one constant. From his debut as a fresh-faced prodigy, through his Ashes heroics, to his tenure as captain, Root has been the backbone of England’s Test side. Even as English cricket transitioned through turbulent phases—the retirements of Kevin Pietersen and Cook, the struggles in foreign conditions—Root’s bat remained steady, guiding his team through rough waters.

Root’s record-breaking achievement is more than just a statistical marvel; it’s a testament to his resilience, endurance, and mastery of the game’s mental and technical demands. His runs are not just numbers—they are emblematic of his ability to withstand the rigours of international cricket: long tours, form fluctuations, and the immense scrutiny that accompanies the captaincy. Root’s unflappable composure in the face of such challenges amplifies the significance of his record.

Particularly noteworthy is Root’s prowess on spinning tracks, where many of his contemporaries have faltered. Whether in India, Sri Lanka, or Pakistan, Root has not just survived but thrived, often posting his most memorable innings in these conditions. His mastery of the sweep shot, coupled with nimble footwork and patience, has made him a standout player in the subcontinent.

There is a poetic justice to Root surpassing Cook, two men who have come to symbolize English cricket in different eras. While Cook was the torchbearer for England in the early 21st century, Root now assumes that role in a time when Test cricket is grappling with its place amidst the rise of limited-overs formats. Root’s achievements underscore the enduring value of Test cricket, a format that demands skill, patience, and mental fortitude in ways shorter formats do not.

Joe Root’s journey is far from over. At an age where many batsmen are still at their peak, there is little doubt that his legacy will continue to grow. Yet, at this moment, as England’s leading run-scorer in Test cricket, Root stands not only as a symbol of English cricket’s past and present but also as a beacon for its future.

In Root, England has not only found a prolific batsman but also a cricketer whose story embodies the very spirit of Test cricket - an exquisite blend of skill, patience, and unyielding resolve. As he continues to script new chapters in his remarkable career, Root’s place among the pantheon of cricket’s greats is firmly secured.

Looking ahead, Day 4 promises more records for Root, as he is likely to add more runs to his already impressive tally.

Thank You 

Faisal Caesar 

England's Aggressive Approach Pushes Pakistan to the Brink in Multan

Despite amassing an imposing total at a measured scoring rate of 3.73 over 149 overs, Pakistan’s advantage might prove fleeting against an England side that thrives on aggression. The nature of modern Test cricket, combined with the dynamics of the Multan pitch, casts doubt on Pakistan’s ability to sustain pressure. England’s batsmen, known for their fearless and fluid style, are already countering the conventional rhythms of Test cricket, cruising at a brisk rate of 4.8 runs per over. This signals more than just intent—it’s a declaration of dominance.

Tomorrow, England will likely continue this aggressive approach, wearing down Pakistan’s bowling attack by forcing them to chase the ball across a placid, batting-friendly surface. The physical toll on Pakistan’s bowlers will be palpable, but the psychological toll might be even greater. An attack that lacks the venom to curb England’s momentum will find itself unraveling as the day progresses. England’s strategy is not simply to score runs, but to sap Pakistan’s energy and, crucially, their confidence. A demoralized bowling unit is a step toward dismantling the opposition’s resolve, and England seems acutely aware of Pakistan's mental fragility in such scenarios. They understand that this Pakistani team struggles to rebound once the pressure begins to mount.

The morning session will be critical. If England can dominate early, the day may slip irreversibly from Pakistan’s grasp. With a mentally fragile bowling attack and a pitch offering little aid, the prospect of a long and grueling day looms for Pakistan.

The changing landscape of Test cricket demands adaptability. While the fundamentals of patience, technique, and discipline remain intact, the infusion of aggression—particularly in scoring—has become an essential part of success. In modern Test matches, run rate is not just a statistic but a weapon. By pushing the scoring tempo, a team can break the rhythm of the opposition, exposing their vulnerabilities. England has mastered this art, blending tradition with innovation to systematically dismantle bowling attacks.

Pakistan, however, is yet to embrace this evolution. Sticking to familiar but outdated methods, they find themselves ill-equipped to handle the intensity of an aggressive, modern Test team. Until they learn to combine classical skills with this new mantra of high-pressure, fast-paced cricket, they will remain vulnerable to teams like England, who exploit every crack in the opposition’s armor.

Thank You 

Faisal Caesar 

The Illusion of Stardom: Is Babar Azam Truly a Test Cricket Great?

Cricket, especially the longest format, has a way of separating the sublime from the ordinary, exposing the cracks that might remain hidden in the flashier formats of the game. In recent years, Babar Azam, Pakistan’s captain and premier batsman, has found himself at the crossroads of hype and reality, with a growing critique of his performance, particularly in Test cricket. 

Despite the glittering reputation built on his exploits in limited-overs cricket, Babar’s Test career, spanning almost a decade, leaves much to be desired when placed alongside the modern-day greats of the game.

In the first Test against England at Multan, on a dead pitch that offered no demons, Babar Azam’s dismissal—trapped LBW for the 13th time—exposed deeper vulnerabilities in his technique and mental approach. It marked another chapter in his ongoing lean patch, a barren stretch of 651 days without the spark of brilliance expected from someone frequently compared to Virat Kohli, Kane Williamson, and Joe Root. Yet, Babar’s stardom often appears to exist without substance, with his Test performances crumbling under the weight of those lofty comparisons.

Technically, Babar has always shown promise but never reached the levels of his contemporaries. Where Kohli, Williamson, and Root have mastered their craft across conditions, often carrying their teams on their shoulders, Babar’s performances have been inconsistent, especially when the stakes are highest. His dismissals often betray a lack of mental fortitude, exposing a batsman who wilts under pressure rather than thriving in it.

Against Bangladesh, Pakistan faced the embarrassment of a whitewash at home, and Babar’s inability to anchor his side only deepened the question marks over his status as a great in the making. The test against England offered a golden opportunity for redemption, especially on familiar, flat tracks where runs should come easily. Yet, once again, Babar faltered, leaving behind a trail of missed opportunities that now define his Test career.

It is one thing to score heavily at home, but the true test of greatness is the ability to dominate away from the comforts of home turf. In Pakistan, Babar averages over 60, a figure that flatters but also misleads. His numbers plummet in more challenging conditions—Australia, South Africa, and New Zealand being particularly unkind. In Australia, a country where the best rise to the occasion, Babar averages a mere 29.50. South Africa and New Zealand haven’t been much kinder, with his averages there languishing below 35.

This struggle against seam, swing, and pace underscores a critical gap in Babar’s technical proficiency. His footwork, particularly against quality fast bowling, appears hesitant, and his decision-making outside the off-stump has often led to his undoing. For a player lauded as Pakistan’s best since Younis Khan, such vulnerabilities are alarming, especially when placed against the consistent dominance of the likes of Steve Smith or Kane Williamson in these same conditions.

The hallmark of greatness is not just consistency but also the ability to deliver iconic innings in pressure-cooker situations. Think of Brian Lara’s unforgettable 400*, or Steve Smith’s Ashes heroics. Kohli has multiple defining performances in hostile territories, with hundreds in South Africa and England that cement his legacy. Unfortunately, Babar has no such innings to his name.

Even Babar’s highest Test score—196 against Australia in Karachi in 2022—was played on a placid surface, devoid of any real challenges for the batsmen. While it was an admirable innings, it came in a drawn game, failing to shift the tide in Pakistan’s favor. The lack of a series-defining knock in his near-decade-long Test career is telling, especially for a player hailed as a superstar.

In cricket-mad Pakistan, where stars are often made before they are truly tested, Babar Azam’s stardom seems to have outpaced his actual accomplishments. 

His home performances have given fans glimpses of brilliance, but the same cannot be said about his encounters with top-tier teams under tougher conditions. This creates a dissonance between the reality of Babar’s achievements and the inflated expectations surrounding him.

The comparisons with Kohli, Williamson, and Root, though flattering, often serve to highlight the gap between Babar and the truly elite batsmen of his generation. These comparisons, while providing Pakistan fans with hope, also risk making a mockery of Babar’s true standing in the game. 

His overseas record, lack of landmark innings, and continued failures against world-class opposition paint a picture of a batsman still searching for his place among the greats.

At 29, Babar still has time to course-correct, but time alone cannot heal the technical and mental shortcomings that continue to plague his Test career. If he hopes to silence his critics and justify the immense faith placed in him, Babar must adapt, showing resilience in foreign conditions, tightening his technique, and producing the kinds of innings that define careers.

His story is not yet fully written, but as things stand, Babar risks joining the long list of Pakistani cricketers who dazzled with talent but fell short due to poor mental strength, mismanagement, and an over-hyped stardom built on inconsistent foundations.

For Babar, the next chapter of his career will be crucial, for it will determine whether he remains an overrated star or ascends to the heights that his fans desperately wish for him to reach.

Thank You 

Faisal Caesar 

A Tale of Grit, Heartbreak, and Heroics: Bangladesh’s Near-Miss in Pakistan

The return of Test cricket to Pakistan after a 16-month absence should have been a grand occasion. Instead, empty stands and an overwhelming presence of security personnel highlighted the challenges facing the sport in the country. However, for those few who attended, what unfolded was a captivating contest, one that showcased Bangladesh’s growing stature in international cricket. Despite ultimately losing all three Tests, Bangladesh’s performances hinted at a side on the cusp of something special. In contrast, Pakistan relied on individual brilliance to escape what could have been an embarrassing home series defeat.

First Test: Karachi – Yasir Hameed’s Dream Debut

The opening Test in Karachi set the tone for an enthralling series. Bangladesh, historically weak in the longest format, displayed remarkable resilience. By the end of the third day, they were in a dominant position, leading by 105 runs with seven wickets in hand. Their tenacity unsettled Pakistan, leaving captain Rashid Latif facing the longest and most restless night of his career.

Yet, inexperience proved their undoing. With a lead of 193 and five wickets in hand, an upset remained a possibility. However, Bangladesh’s final five wickets fell for a mere 23 runs, handing Pakistan a target of 217—eminently changeable on a still-decent pitch.

Pakistan’s victory was orchestrated by a young debutant—Yasir Hameed. Displaying exquisite stroke play, the right-hander struck centuries in both innings, scoring 170 in the first and 105 in the second. In doing so, he joined the exclusive club of players with twin centuries on Test debut, alongside West Indian great Lawrence Rowe. His batting not only saved Pakistan from potential humiliation but also announced his arrival on the international stage in spectacular fashion.

Bangladesh, though beaten, had fought admirably. Their effort was a marked improvement over previous encounters, where they had rarely troubled their opposition.

Second Test: Peshawar – Shoaib Akhtar’s Fiery Redemption

If Karachi hinted at Bangladesh’s progress, Peshawar further reinforced it. For the first time in their history, they secured a first-innings lead in Test cricket. Over the first three days, they dominated proceedings, pushing Pakistan onto the back foot.

However, cricket has a way of producing moments of individual brilliance that shift momentum decisively. Enter Shoaib Akhtar. Struggling with the oppressive 40°C heat and 75% humidity, the fast bowler looked pedestrian for the first two days. But after lunch on the second day, he found his rhythm. With a spell of breathtaking pace and reverse swing, he ripped through Bangladesh’s middle and lower order. From a commanding 310 for two, Bangladesh collapsed to 361 all out, with Shoaib returning figures of six for 50.

Still, Bangladesh managed a 66-run lead, thanks largely to left-arm spinner Mohammad Rafiq, who toiled through marathon spells to claim five wickets. But when Bangladesh attempted to set Pakistan a challenging target, Shoaib struck again. His opening spell in the second innings decimated Bangladesh, sending them crashing to 96 all out. His match haul of ten wickets single-handedly swung the game in Pakistan’s favour.

Despite the eventual defeat, Bangladesh had rattled Pakistan. Their progress was undeniable, but the harsh reality of Test cricket—where a single session can undo days of good work—was a painful lesson.

Third Test: Multan – The Heartbreak of a Lifetime

The final Test in Multan was the most dramatic of them all. For three years, Bangladesh had endured heavy defeats in Test cricket. Now, they stood on the brink of history. With Pakistan chasing 261 on a challenging pitch, Bangladesh reduced them to 132 for six. Victory was within touching distance.

But Inzamam-ul-Haq had other plans.

Displaying patience, skill, and unshakable resolve, Inzamam played one of the greatest innings of his career. He farmed the strike, shielded the tail, and absorbed immense pressure for over five hours. Even as wickets tumbled around him, he stood firm. Bangladesh, sensing history, fought desperately. When the eighth wicket fell at 207, the finish line was agonizingly close.

Two moments, however, shattered Bangladesh’s dream. First, a crucial dropped catch at slip allowed Shabbir Ahmed to add 41 runs with Inzamam. Then, a run-out opportunity was wasted due to a technicality—bowler Mohammad Rafiq had disturbed the bails just before the ball struck the stumps. When Yasir Ali, a 17-year-old debutant, survived three deliveries with four runs needed, Inzamam capitalized on the next ball, flicking it for a boundary to complete a one-wicket win.

Bangladesh was devastated. They had been the better team for much of the match, but Pakistan, through sheer will and experience, found a way to escape.

The match also courted controversy. Pakistan’s wicketkeeper-captain Rashid Latif was later banned for five ODIs after claiming a contentious catch that replays showed had touched the ground. The incident marred an otherwise historic contest.

The Legacy of the Series

For Pakistan, the series exposed vulnerabilities but also reinforced their ability to pull off remarkable turnarounds. Yasir Hameed’s dazzling debut, Shoaib Akhtar’s devastating pace, and Inzamam’s steely resolve were the pillars on which they survived.

For Bangladesh, this series was a turning point. Though they left empty-handed, they had earned respect. Their batsmen, led by Habibul Bashar, displayed newfound confidence. Their bowlers, particularly Mohammad Rafiq, troubled Pakistan’s vaunted batting lineup. Above all, they showed they could go toe-to-toe with an established cricketing power.

Though their first Test win remained elusive, the performances in Karachi, Peshawar, and Multan proved it was only a matter of time. The heartbreak of this series would eventually fuel their rise, serving as the foundation for the victories to come.

In cricket, sometimes the greatest triumphs are born from the deepest disappointments. Bangladesh’s tour of Pakistan in 2003 was one such moment—a reminder that perseverance, even in defeat, paves the way for future glory.

Thank You

Faisal Caesa