A Gamble Gone Wrong: How Sri Lanka Outplayed West Indies in the 1995 Singer Champions Trophy Final

Cricket has a peculiar way of rewarding the bold and punishing the overconfident. On a scorching Friday afternoon at the Sharjah Cricket Association Stadium, Richie Richardson made a decision that would haunt the West Indies for the rest of the day. Winning the toss in the 1995 Singer Champions Trophy Final, he opted to field first—a calculated risk, but one that would prove disastrous against a Sri Lankan side that was gaining momentum on the international stage. What followed was a masterclass in batting, a dramatic collapse, and an eventual triumph that solidified Sri Lanka’s growing reputation in world cricket. 

Sri Lanka’s Commanding Start: Setting the Foundation

The Sri Lankan innings began with precision and patience as Sanath Jayasuriya  and  Roshan Mahanama  set a steady foundation. The West Indian bowlers struggled for an early breakthrough, watching helplessly as the openers manoeuvred the ball around Sharjah’s dry surface. Their partnership flourished past the century mark, and just as the West Indies looked increasingly desperate, they finally struck. 

At the ominous score of 111, Jayasuriya fell for 57 off 82 balls, courtesy of a sharp catch by Ottis Gibson off  Anderson Cummins. Yet, the dismissal did little to derail Sri Lanka’s intent. Mahanama, in sublime touch, went on to make 66, while the ever-dangerous Aravinda de Silva  played an explosive cameo, smashing a rapid 50 off just 35 balls. Their controlled aggression ensured Sri Lanka maintained a run rate of around 5.5 per over, keeping them firmly ahead in the contest. 

At 196 for three, Sri Lanka seemed poised for a massive total. However, cricket often twists narratives in unexpected ways, and the West Indies found their window of opportunity. 

The West Indian Fightback: Gibson’s Fiery Spell

Just when Sri Lanka looked set to accelerate, Ottis Gibson changed the complexion of the game. His pace and movement rattled the Sri Lankan middle order, sparking a collapse that saw Arjuna Ranatunga, Hashan Tillakaratne, Asanka Gurusinha, and Chandika Hathurusingha fall in quick succession. From a dominant 215 for four, Sri Lanka stumbled to 269 for eight, losing wickets at crucial moments. 

As the innings neared its end, an unusual interruption added to the drama. With Sri Lanka at 262 for seven, match referee Raman Subba Rao  surprisingly called for a lunch break with seven balls still remaining. The pause momentarily halted Sri Lanka’s momentum, but when play resumed, Gibson struck twice more, while Eric Upashantha  was run out. The innings concluded at 273, a challenging but chaseable target given West Indies’ batting firepower. 

West Indies Falter in the Chase: A Story of Missteps

What should have been a determined chase quickly turned into a nightmare. Eric Upashantha, playing only his second ODI, struck early, dismissing Stuart Williams and Brian Lara in quick succession. Losing Lara, their talisman, was a body blow from which the West Indies never truly recovered. 

Sherwin Campbell and Richie Richardson  attempted to stabilize the innings, but their partnership ended in disaster when a mix-up resulted in Richardson’s unfortunate run-out. As if the pressure wasn’t enough, Muttiah Muralitharan then delivered a moment of magic, clean bowling Campbell with a delivery that left the batsman clueless. At 88 for five, the West Indies were in dire straits. 

There was a flicker of resistance as Shivnarine Chanderpaul and Roger Harper put together 53 runs for the sixth wicket, rotating strike smartly and delaying the inevitable. But Sri Lanka had all the answers. Kumar Dharmasena  ended their fightback, dismissing Chanderpaul, while Muralitharan continued his dominance, catching Harper off his own bowling. 

At 156 for seven, the writing was on the wall. The lower order crumbled, and at  177 for nine, Sri Lanka was just one wicket away from victory. Yet, the final wicket would not fall easily. 

Gibson’s Late Resistance: A Last Stand in Vain

Despite the bleak situation, Ottis Gibson refused to go down without a fight. Complementing his stellar bowling performance, he launched a late counterattack alongside Hamish Anthony, adding a defiant **43-run stand off just 32 balls. Gibson’s 33 runs, featuring a six and three boundaries, injected momentary excitement into an otherwise one-sided chase. But the resistance was short-lived—Dharmasena struck again, dismissing Anthony to bring an end to the innings at 223. 

With that, Sri Lanka had clinched the title by 50 runs, a victory that was both convincing and symbolic of their rising status in world cricket. 

Conclusion: A Defining Moment in Sri Lankan Cricket

The 1995 Singer Champions Trophy final was a tale of two halves—Sri Lanka’s dominance in the first, and the West Indies’ fleeting comeback in the second. Richardson’s gamble at the toss proved costly, and while there were glimpses of brilliance from Gibson, Chanderpaul, and Harper, the West Indies never truly recovered from their top-order failures. 

For Sri Lanka, this victory was more than just a trophy—it was a statement of intent. A team once considered underdogs had now outplayed one of cricket’s most storied teams on a grand stage. It was a precursor to even greater triumphs, paving the way for their historic 1996 World Cup win. 

For the West Indies, the loss served as a reminder that their golden era was fading. The Caribbean dominance of the 1970s and 1980s had begun to erode, and this defeat at Sharjah was another indication that a changing of the guard was imminent in world cricket.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

Fading Fire and Spinning Glory: A Tale of Collapse, Consolation, and Triumph of Sri Lanka

When the Ashes Cool Too Soon

The late summer sun over England was host not to redemption or dominance but to a story of weariness, squandered chances, and a spinning wizard rewriting history. The triangular series that brought together South Africa, Sri Lanka, and the hosts England, unfolded as a narrative of contrasting energies — some teams gasping for breath after long tours, others resurging through resilience, and one man redefining what an off-spinner could do with a white ball at the hallowed turf of Lord’s.

South Africa’s Diminishing Roar: A Tour Too Long

For South Africa, the tour that began with ambition ended with exasperation. Just four days after the emotional drain of the Leeds Test defeat, their pursuit of 259 against Sri Lanka quickly descended into a farce. Gary Kirsten fell in the opening over, and the top five were back in the pavilion for just 66. Wickremasinghe’s disciplined seam bowling triggered the collapse, with the eccentric Pat Symcox — wearing an odd "77" jersey and promoted up the order — providing temporary resistance. His 100-run stand with Jonty Rhodes briefly ignited hope, but once Symcox holed out, the innings unravelled.

Sri Lanka’s early batting blitz, launching to 79 in the first ten overs, had set the tone. The chaos was amplified by Elworthy’s erratic over that yielded 43 runs, including every variety of extra imaginable. To avert a complete disaster, Donald had to be introduced prematurely, disrupting South Africa’s bowling plans. Captain Arjuna Ranatunga, hobbling with a knee injury, orchestrated the innings smartly, wielding a bat branded not by a corporate sponsor but by “Sam’s Chicken and Ribs” — an emblem of rebellion soon censored by the ICC.

England’s Illusion of Ascent and Sudden Spiral

England, fresh off a Test series victory over South Africa, seemed poised for sustained success. A packed Lord’s crowd watched with delight as Darren Gough and his fellow seamers extracted swing even in glorious sunshine, uncharacteristically taming Sri Lanka’s aggressive top order. Sri Lanka’s powerful start was curbed; five dropped catches by the Lankans helped England cement their dominance. Graeme Hick, a figure shrouded in the mystique of unfulfilled Test promise, came alive in the one-day format — playing with elegance and control. Yet the lower order offered little support, and the final tally seemed fragile.

Still, Sri Lanka’s net run-rate had already sealed their spot in the final, making England’s victory one of cosmetic significance.

Dead Rubber or Final Farewell? South Africa’s Exit and England’s Habitual Stumble

In a match that bore the feel of a farewell rather than a contest, South Africa signed off with a win that was more symbolic than consequential. On a cloudy morning, they defied logic by choosing to bat — a decision that handed England mathematical control. Daryll Cullinan, finally free of pressure, played fluently for 70 off 73 balls. Symcox again chimed in with fireworks, despite being dropped early. His 39-ball knock was laced with four towering sixes, possibly a last burst of defiance before boarding the homeward flight.

England’s chase began like a dream. Knight and Hick added 113, showcasing calm confidence. But with qualification guaranteed, complacency crept in. Old habits resurfaced, and the middle order folded with theatrical inconsistency — a habit that would haunt them yet again.

The Final Unraveling: Knight, Atherton, and Muralitharan’s Sorcery

Lord’s witnessed a first — the emergence of Muttiah Muralitharan as a destroyer on English soil. England’s openers had laid the perfect platform: Knight and Atherton put up 132 in the first 25 overs, displaying poise and precision. But what followed was a collapse of Shakespearean proportion. Eight wickets fell for just 124 runs. Muralitharan’s spellbound artistry was the catalyst — 5 for 34, the best figures in a one-day international at Lord’s.

His variations in flight, turn, and trajectory baffled the English, who had no answers to his genius. It was not just wickets, but how they fell — the deception in the air, the spin off the pitch — that made it a performance for the ages.

England’s bowlers, apart from the ever-committed Gough, appeared toothless. Sanath Jayasuriya fell early to a Gough inswinger, triggering a cheer from the crowd. But Marvan Atapattu extinguished all hope with a composed and commanding knock. England’s fielding wilted. The crowd, so often their twelfth man, could only watch in stunned silence.

Collapse, Catharsis, and a Champion's Craft

This triangular series, akin to a novella with multiple narrators, tells stories of fatigue, pride, and transcendence. South Africa exited, perhaps gladly, from a tour too long and too fruitless. England, surging with confidence, succumbed once more to their middle-order curse. And Sri Lanka — joyous, fluid, and strategic — lifted their fifth multilateral trophy since the World Cup, driven by a spinner whose name would soon become a legend.

It was not just a cricket series. It was a transition — from endurance to excellence, from reputation to reality — and in that journey, it was Muralitharan’s spin, more than anything, that turned fate most sharply.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

The Spin of Fortune: Muralitharan, the Doosra, and England’s Trent Bridge Collapse

England entered the final Test at Trent Bridge with a 2-0 series victory glinting in the sunlight. What unfolded instead was a ruthless subcontinental subversion—Sri Lanka, written off after early defeats, surged to a four-day triumph to level the series 1-1. England, once again, had been outplayed not by brute force, but by the arcane artistry of one man: Muttiah Muralitharan.

A Familiar Smile, A Deadlier Craft

Eight years after his historic 16-wicket demolition at The Oval, Muralitharan returned to haunt England with evolved menace. Now armed with the doosra—that mystical delivery turning away from right-handers while masked behind an off-break action—he decimated England with figures of 11 for 132, including a record-shattering 8 for 70 in the second innings. It was the finest haul ever seen at Trent Bridge, eclipsing B.J.T. Bosanquet’s century-old benchmark.

For a fleeting spell on that fourth afternoon, it seemed as though history might fold in on itself—Muralitharan had captured seven of the first eight wickets, inching ever closer to the hallowed all-ten club of Jim Laker and Anil Kumble. But Kapugedera, with an acrobatic run-out, broke the spell. Even in denial, greatness was affirmed.

Watching from square leg stood Darrell Hair, the umpire who had once accused Muralitharan of throwing in 1995. But now, under the ICC’s revised rules allowing a 15-degree arm straightening, even Hair could only observe—silently—what many had now conceded: genius disguised in unorthodox garb.

Of Tails and Turnarounds

Muralitharan’s havoc wasn't confined to the ball. His brisk 33 from 29 deliveries helped stitch a defiant 62-run last-wicket partnership with Chaminda Vaas, pushing Sri Lanka to 231 in the first innings. England, again, failed to clip the tail—a recurring, costly affliction. At Lord’s earlier in the series, Sri Lanka's last two wickets had added 177 runs across both innings to save the game. At Trent Bridge, another 92 came from the final two stands. The margin of difference between control and collapse was found not at the top, but in depth.

Vaas, in particular, emerged as an unlikely talisman. With the ball, he was moderate. With the bat, majestic in temperament. 184 runs in six innings, dismissed only twice, he showed more composure and technique than several top-order colleagues on either side.

The Toss, The Turn, The Tumble

Having won a valuable toss, Mahela Jayawardene chose to bat under rare English sunshine and on a dry surface that could pass for Colombo in disguise. Sri Lanka’s top order wavered yet again—Jon Lewis, making his debut, struck early, and Flintoff finally delivered a probing spell. Yet the script reversed once more through Sri Lanka's dogged lower order.

England’s reply was underwhelming. Only Paul Collingwood—stoic, stubborn, and enduring—showed the requisite patience, but his lone vigil wasn't enough. A meek two-run deficit was all Sri Lanka needed to seize the initiative.

Then came the real push. Kapugedera, just 19, announced himself with a maiden Test fifty. The tail wagged again. Monty Panesar, a bright spot in England’s attack, claimed his maiden five-wicket haul—but it was Sri Lanka with scoreboard power, setting a target of 325: more than England had ever chased at home to win a Test.

Opening Hopes, Closing Collapse

Trescothick and Strauss launched the chase with tempo and assurance. Their 84-run stand ignited flickers of belief. But belief in cricket is often hostage to a single man with a plan, and Muralitharan had one. When Trescothick misread the doosra, the unravelling began.

What followed was a symphony of spin. Eight wickets for 26 runs in 105 deliveries. Muralitharan’s spell was part deception, part inevitability. Strauss, set for a century, was undone by a rebound catch off Sangakkara's gloves. Pietersen, nursing a torn hamstring and hopes of a counterattack, gloved one to short leg. Flintoff lasted one ball. Collingwood suffered a comical but cruel boot deflection. Jones missed the doosra, Hoggard was run out, and only Monty Panesar, swinging with the joy of a schoolboy, offered brief rebellion with a 26 off 28.

The final blow came not from Muralitharan, but from Sanath Jayasuriya—in what was to be his last Test series, and perhaps the most poetic cameo of all. One final dart to remove Panesar, and Sri Lanka had scripted a famous comeback.

England’s Drift and Flintoff’s Burden

England's undoing was layered. Tactical missteps, inability to finish off innings, and brittle batting conspired against them. But beneath the surface was a deeper truth: Flintoff's captaincy was beginning to buckle. His inspirational aura, once electric in India, was fading under the strain of leadership, form, and a recurring ankle injury that now demanded surgery.

His charisma was no longer enough. England had failed to impose themselves, had ceded the turning points. In letting Sri Lanka feel at home on English soil, they had invited their own undoing.

A Victory Beyond Scorecards

For Sri Lanka, this was only their third Test win outside the subcontinent or Zimbabwe—after Napier (1994-95) and The Oval (1998). But more than numbers, it was a triumph of transition. A young team, gently guided by seasoned hands, had out-thought and out-fought one of cricket’s oldest empires. There was poise, grit, and quiet belief.

In Muralitharan’s spinning fingers, they found the instrument of fate. And in England’s inability to unpick that riddle, they found opportunity.

The genius had spoken again—not with fury, but with wrist and smile.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

The Clash of Giants: Sri Lanka’s Triumph and Pakistan’s Woes

In the world of cricket, few moments shine as brightly as those when leadership is tested, heroes emerge, and the game’s ebb and flow weave a tale of glory and despair. This Test series, marked by fluctuating fortunes, encapsulated all of this, with Sri Lanka emerging victorious in dramatic fashion, while Pakistan’s fortunes continued to spiral downward in the most devastating manner.

Jayasuriya’s Ascendancy

The triumph that sealed Sri Lanka’s victory not only brought the team another series win but cemented Sanath Jayasuriya’s position as a captain of rare calibre. This was his third successive Test series win since taking the reins from the legendary Aravinda Ranatunga the previous July. In a career that had witnessed Jayasuriya once carrying towels in the team’s defeat to Pakistan four and a half years earlier, the contrast was striking. Back then, Sri Lanka had suffered an embarrassing innings defeat. Yet, from the ashes of that loss, Jayasuriya and his team rose like a phoenix, conquering their fears and securing their place in history. Now, he had not only secured victory in this series but also proved himself as Ranatunga’s rightful heir.

Jayasuriya’s leadership was a beacon of consistency and resilience. From the time he took over the captaincy, he had worked tirelessly to steer Sri Lanka through tumultuous waters. Under his command, Sri Lanka seemed invincible, no longer a team dependent on individual brilliance but one that exuded collective strength. His personal journey mirrored the resurgence of the Sri Lankan team—a narrative of redemption and triumph.

Saeed Anwar’s Dismal Term

In stark contrast, Pakistan’s situation under the captaincy of Saeed Anwar had become an unmitigated disaster. Anwar had suffered a torrid time in charge, losing all three limited-overs internationals and now two Tests in succession. This defeat marked Pakistan's fifth consecutive loss in Tests, a humiliating streak that included previous series defeats at home to Australia and Zimbabwe in 1998-99. Anwar's leadership was beset with injuries, misfortune, and mounting pressure, and his personal woes deepened as he was left nursing a bruised nose and a sprained neck after a bizarre collision with umpire Mohammad Nazir during his second innings.

The crux of Pakistan’s plight lay in the absence of key players. Wasim Akram, Saqlain Mushtaq, and Moin Khan were all unavailable due to injury or illness, leaving the team with a weakened resolve. In their place, new faces stepped into the breach, but to no avail. Pakistan’s squad, though talented, lacked the cohesion and experience necessary to halt Sri Lanka's momentum.

The Fateful Test: A Match of Tumultuous Twists

The Test match, which seemed to shift directions with every passing hour, was defined by remarkable individual performances and moments of unrelenting tension. From the very first innings, Sri Lanka set the tone, posting a modest total of 268, built around an unflinching 75 from opener Atapattu, who batted through 254 balls, enduring rain delays and Pakistan’s sporadic attacks. The day had been marred by weather interruptions, but Atapattu’s resolute innings was a signal of things to come.

However, Pakistan’s response seemed promising at first. They were in a strong position at 154 for three, but the genius of Muttiah Muralitharan would soon unravel their resistance. The wily off-spinner spun a web of confusion, claiming seven wickets for just 45 runs in a masterclass of guile and precision. Anwar, looking set for another half-century, squandered his chance when he attempted a second six in quick succession, throwing his wicket away and leaving his team exposed. Apart from a stoic 58 from Inzamam-ul-Haq, Pakistan’s batting lineup crumbled under the weight of Muralitharan’s spell.

As Pakistan stumbled, Sri Lanka capitalized. With a cushion of 69 runs from their first innings, they set about constructing a second innings total. Arnold’s majestic 99, which included 13 fours and a six, led the charge. He batted with the flair and composure of a seasoned pro, even though he fell just one run shy of a well-deserved century. Sri Lanka’s innings was defined by partnerships and perseverance, but after Arnold’s departure, they lost their remaining four wickets for just 36 runs in 12 overs, leaving Pakistan with a faint glimmer of hope.

Pakistan’s Failed Fightback: The Anwar Injury and Controversial Decisions

Pakistan’s chase was always going to be a Herculean task, but as if to add insult to injury, the match continued to be marred by bizarre twists. Pakistan’s openers started with a half-century stand, providing brief hope, but soon their progress was stunted by controversial umpiring decisions. The most damaging blow came when Saeed Anwar, already struggling, collided with umpire Mohammad Nazir. The injury forced Anwar to retire hurt, leaving Pakistan even further depleted.

With Anwar out of action and Inzamam and Aamir Sohail falling to contentious dismissals, Pakistan’s chances seemed all but extinguished. Yet, a brief rally led by Yousuf Youhana kept the flicker of hope alive. Youhana, battling both the pressure and his team’s dwindling chances, played an inspired innings of 88, completing 1,000 runs in his 17th Test match along the way. His aggressive strokeplay, which included eight fours and three sixes, saw him add 63 runs with Atiq-uz-Zaman before Muralitharan struck again, taking Mohammad Yousuf and Waqar Younis with successive deliveries, turning the tide definitively in Sri Lanka’s favour.

Muralitharan’s Magic: A Match-Winning Performance

It was fitting that Muralitharan, the mastermind behind Pakistan’s downfall, would play the role of the match’s ultimate hero. In his tenacious spell, Muralitharan took 10 wickets for 148 runs, further solidifying his reputation as one of cricket’s greatest-ever bowlers. His 18 wickets in the series stood as a monument to his supremacy, his craft too much for Pakistan to handle.

On the final morning, with Pakistan still 72 runs away from victory and the game on a knife’s edge, Muralitharan sealed their fate. Despite missing a hat-trick, he took the final wicket, leaving Pakistan with no answers to his genius. The match, which had seen 27 wickets fall—17 of them Pakistan's—ended with Sri Lanka needing just nine balls on the final morning to claim victory. A dramatic climax unfolded, as three of those nine balls were hit for boundaries, and the series was clinched.

A Heroic End

As Sri Lanka celebrated their triumph, Pakistan’s defeat was a painful reminder of the fragility of success. Jayasuriya’s rise to leadership and Sri Lanka’s redemption contrasted sharply with the ongoing turmoil under Anwar’s captaincy. The match, with its highs and lows, embodied cricket at its finest—a spectacle of individual brilliance, tactical brilliance, and unrelenting drama.

In the end, it was not just Muralitharan’s wickets or Arnold’s near-century that defined Sri Lanka’s win, but the relentless spirit that coursed through their veins. Pakistan, bruised and battered, would have to wait for another opportunity, their saga of defeat continuing for now.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

A Test of Grit and Glory: Sri Lanka's Sensational Victory Against Pakistan

In a contest that would etch itself into the annals of cricket history, Sri Lanka emerged victorious by a thrilling two-wicket margin, chasing down 220 runs against Pakistan in a pulsating finish. This encounter, laden with twists of fate, near-misses, and relentless determination, remains a testament to the unyielding spirit of the Sri Lankan team.

The drama began with Sri Lanka winning the toss, opting to bowl first in what was to become a captivating Test match. Pakistan's fortunes fluctuated on an extraordinary first day. Their batting lineup, initially in decent shape at 135 for 4, collapsed in rapid succession to be bowled out for just 182, their lowest score at home against Sri Lanka. The formidable duo of Muttiah Muralitharan and Chaminda Wickremasinghe wreaked havoc, spinning Pakistan’s batsmen into disarray. To make matters worse for the home side, Wasim Akram, their star bowler, was forced to limp off the field after just 13 deliveries, nursing a groin injury. This left Pakistan with only three front-line bowlers, a significant handicap in the face of Sri Lanka's attacking lineup.

But amidst adversity, the heart of Pakistan's resistance came in the form of their ever-determined spinners, most notably Saqlain Mushtaq. Despite suffering from dehydration, Saqlain bowled 33 overs in one unbroken spell, switching ends only to maintain his rhythm. His heroics on the fifth day underscored the sheer resilience of Pakistan's resolve. Yet, it was not enough to curb the steady march of Sri Lanka's batsmen.

The Dominance of de Silva

On the second day, Sri Lanka's response to Pakistan's vulnerability was both clinical and stylish, led by the composed Aravinda de Silva. His graceful 112 was the backbone of Sri Lanka's innings. Batting for more than six hours, de Silva faced a taxing 276 balls, caressing the ball to the boundary 12 times. Together with Aravinda Ranatunga, who was dropped early on by Moin Khan but made full use of his second chance, they put together a monumental 129-run partnership for the fifth wicket. Ranatunga, ever the strategist, played an innings of tactical brilliance, crafting a vital knock while nursing a broken thumb—a feat of immense courage and resilience.

Even after de Silva’s departure, Sri Lanka’s tail wagged furiously. Vaas, with a calm but unyielding 53 not out, extended the lead, adding crucial partnerships with Zoysa and Muralitharan. The Sri Lankan total swelled to a formidable 171-run lead, setting a daunting challenge for Pakistan.

The Unlikely Hope of Pakistan

As the Test progressed, Pakistan seemed to find themselves cornered, especially after their own batting innings faltered under pressure. But cricket, in its most dramatic form, offers both despair and hope in equal measure. Saeed Anwar, the rock of Pakistan’s resistance, fought valiantly against the Lankan bowlers. He faced 219 balls, contributing a gritty 84 runs, but his defiance ended just two overs before stumps on the fourth day. Pakistan, at 148 for 4, had nudged ahead by 65 runs, yet the advantage once again tilted in Sri Lanka's favor.

Younis Khan's Dream Debut and Wasim Akram’s Resilience

On the fourth day, however, the Pakistani fightback reached new heights. It was the debut of a young Younis Khan, whose arrival in the middle would forever change the course of this match. Younis, with the composure of a seasoned veteran, displayed a remarkable level of patience and skill. His century on debut was not just a personal triumph; it was the beacon of hope that Pakistan needed. Batting for more than five hours, Younis Khan absorbed pressure, surviving two dropped catches and playing a sublime knock of 107 runs from 250 balls, striking 11 boundaries in the process. He was supported by Wasim Akram, who, despite struggling with a runner due to injury, stubbornly batted for more than three hours, contributing 79 valuable runs. Their partnership of 145 runs for the ninth wicket set a new series record and left Pakistan with a narrow lead.

But the match remained evenly poised. Muralitharan, Sri Lanka’s wizard with the ball, would eventually finish with a match-haul of eight wickets, including four crucial dismissals in the second innings. His efforts would prove pivotal in swinging the match back in Sri Lanka’s favor.

The Climactic Finish: Ranatunga's Heroics

Pakistan’s bowlers came out with a renewed sense of urgency, and Waqar Younis immediately made an impact, removing Atapattu and Arnold early. The game appeared to be slipping away from Sri Lanka when they slumped to 177 for 8, with the target of 220 still a distant dream. Yet, as long as the indomitable Ranatunga remained at the crease, Sri Lanka’s hopes were alive. Battling not only Pakistan’s bowlers but also the pain of a broken thumb, Ranatunga proved to be the heartbeat of Sri Lanka’s chase. He was joined by Kaluwitharana in a resilient 43-run stand that took Sri Lanka to the brink of victory. Despite suffering a serious injury earlier in the match, Ranatunga's grit and determination never faltered. The thrilling finish came when, with 9.1 overs remaining, Sri Lanka reached their target.

Pakistan, on the verge of a stunning win, were thwarted by moments of misfortune. A missed catch at 172 for six, when Kaluwitharana’s lofted shot off Abdur Razzaq was dropped by Waqar at mid-on, allowed Sri Lanka to escape.

A Masterclass in Leadership

The victory was completed under the inspirational leadership of Sanath Jayasuriya, who himself had played a steady innings. His first half-century as captain was crucial in settling the nerves of the team, but it was Ranatunga, like an injured tiger, who delivered the match-winning blow. Jayasuriya, reflecting on the contest, remarked, "As long as Ranatunga was there, we were convinced we could win." And win they did.

In this drama of cricketing ebbs and flows, Sri Lanka emerged victorious by sheer will, determined spirit, and the brilliance of individual performances, epitomized by the courage of a broken-handed Ranatunga. It was not just a win, but a triumph of resilience—one for the ages.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

A Farewell to the Magician: Muttiah Muralitharan

 In one corner of Mumbai’s Wankhede Stadium, elation flowed like a river, while across the stands, sorrow loomed like a monsoon cloud. Among the many forlorn faces, one stood out: Muttiah Muralitharan’s, etched with quiet disappointment as he bid farewell to international cricket on a note that fate had not scripted for him. A career filled with triumph, controversy, and extraordinary resilience ended not with a World Cup in hand, but as a runner-up. For those of us who admired him — who marvelled at his mastery — it felt like a dream denied. We had hoped, perhaps too sentimentally, for Murali to raise the trophy and leave the stage crowned. But cricket, ever so unpredictable, had other plans, and India, on that night, was the better side.  

Murali's journey has always been a symphony of contradictions. For his admirers, he is a genius, one of the finest to ever spin a ball, redefining what off-spin could be. For his critics, he is an enigmatic figure, his legacy shadowed by doubts about his bowling action — an "illusionist" to some, whose magic crossed the line into deceit. No cricketer since Douglas Jardine has polarized opinions as Murali has, and perhaps none has borne the weight of scrutiny with as much grace.  

What cannot be denied is the marvel of his craft. With supple wrists and a shoulder that rotated with the velocity of a fast bowler’s, Murali could make the ball grip, turn, and dance on pitches that seemed lifeless to others. His uniqueness was not merely physical — the deformity in his elbow was only a fragment of the story. It was his skill in combining the orthodox with the unorthodox, mastering the elusive doosra, that transformed him from a spinner into a phenomenon. On any surface, in any country, Murali was his captain’s talisman, a spinner who could conjure wickets even when nothing seemed possible.  

But genius rarely walks alone, and controversy was Murali’s constant companion. From the Boxing Day Test of 1995, when umpire Darrell Hair called him for throwing, to the 2004 episode where he was asked to shelve his doosra for exceeding the 15-degree tolerance, his career was as much a fight for legitimacy as it was for wickets. Even as sceptics called him a "chucker," Murali responded with serenity, going so far as to bowl on live television with a cast to demonstrate his legality. His smile, wide-eyed and boyish, remained unbroken through it all, as did his ability to decimate batting line-ups.  

For Sri Lanka, Murali was more than just a cricketer. He was a symbol of unity in a nation fractured by ethnic conflict, often the only Tamil in a team dominated by Sinhalese players. On the field, he played for victory; off it, he became a quiet force for reconciliation. In the aftermath of the 2004 tsunami, he dedicated time, energy, and resources to rebuilding the devastated regions, his influence stretching far beyond cricket’s boundaries.  

Murali’s cricketing achievements remain staggering. Part of Sri Lanka’s World Cup-winning side in 1996, he was instrumental in their run to the final in 2007. In Tests, his records are untouchable — over 800 wickets, including more than 100 against the giants of the game: India, England, and South Africa. Murali was a constant on pitches in Sri Lanka, where his spin was a nightmare for any batsman, or abroad, where he adapted with uncanny precision. His opponents knew that in a three-Test series, they would have to budget for 20 wickets or more in his ledger.  

Yet, beyond the records and accolades, there was something innately human about Murali. As he aged, his shyness gave way to a quiet confidence and sly humour that charmed even his critics. The same man who terrorized batsmen with his spin also offered them friendship with a smile that could disarm the fiercest opponent. He handled his critics with poise, even as legends like Bishan Singh Bedi continued to deride him as a fraud. But history, backed by science, would vindicate him. Under modern scrutiny, his action stood the test of time, proving that Murali’s magic was real.  

In his final World Cup, though, the magic seemed to ebb. Bowling through pain in the 2011 final against India, he tried everything in his repertoire, but the venom was missing. Dhoni and his men were too good that day, and Murali’s dream of ending his career with a World Cup in hand slipped away. It was not the fairy-tale ending his fans had hoped for, but cricket, like life, seldom offers perfect closures.  

Murali’s story will inspire generations of spinners, not just for what he achieved but for how he achieved it — with humility, resilience, and an unwavering smile. He taught the world that greatness is not just about records but about character and how one handles triumph and tribulation. He showed us that a true champion plays for personal glory and something greater — for a team, a nation, and, in Murali’s case, for unity.  

The departure of Muttiah Muralitharan leaves a void not just in Sri Lankan cricket but in the global game. His records may stand the test of time, but it is his spirit, his smile, and his story that will endure in the hearts of cricket lovers everywhere. And as the curtains fall on one of cricket’s most remarkable careers, we are left with the bittersweet truth: that some goodbyes are not meant to be victories, but quiet acknowledgements of a legacy that will live on.  

Adieu, Murali. The game was richer with you in it.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar