The Art of Conquest: Waqar Younis vs. Brian Lara, Rawalpindi 1997

Some cricketing battles transcend the game itself, elevating the sport to an art form—an intricate interplay of skill, strategy, and the raw force of nature. One such encounter unfolded on a cold, grey morning in Rawalpindi in November 1997, when two of the sport’s greatest exponents, Brian Lara and Waqar Younis, clashed in a passage of play so compelling that it remains etched in memory long after the broader context of the series has faded.

This was no hyperbolic spectacle akin to professional wrestling, where taglines such as "The Prince of Port-of-Spain meets the Sultan of Swing" might have been deployed for dramatic effect. Instead, it was a battle of cricketing wits, fought in earnest under the weight of West Indian expectations. Already humbled by an innings defeat in the first Test in Peshawar, the visitors turned to their premier batsman in the hope of salvation. Lara, still recovering from a double failure in the previous match and the lingering disappointment of being overlooked for the captaincy, arrived at the crease with much to prove.

Setting the Stage: The Key Players

Lara’s predicament was compounded by off-field controversies. Despite significant lobbying from his native Trinidad & Tobago, the West Indies Cricket Board had retained veteran fast bowler Courtney Walsh as captain. This decision raised questions about Lara’s commitment and mental state, making his performance in Rawalpindi a matter of both personal and professional redemption.

At the other end stood Waqar Younis, a fast bowler of rare menace, inexplicably omitted from the series opener but now unleashed with a point to prove. Known for his searing pace and late swing, Waqar embodied Pakistan’s proud tradition of reverse swing mastery. His mission was clear: dismantle the West Indies' most dangerous weapon before he could inflict any damage.

Early Exchanges: The Battle Begins

The duel began with a cautious prod from Lara to a probing inswinger, a momentary pause before the fireworks. Then came two successive cover drives, both executed with typical elegance, both scorching to the boundary. The strokes bore Lara’s signature brilliance and left Waqar visibly unsettled, prompting a hurried mid-pitch conference with his captain, Wasim Akram. The balance seemed to shift momentarily in Lara’s favour.

Buoyed by his early success, the West Indian maestro attempted to impose his authority. The next ball, though full and inviting, was mistimed—dragged through mid-off for a couple rather than dispatched for a third consecutive four. If Lara had sensed a weakness in Waqar, it was an illusion. Champions recalibrated, and Waqar, sensing his moment, began to plot his counteroffensive.

The Masterstroke: Waqar’s Lethal Yorker

Great fast bowlers possess an intuitive understanding of when to strike. Waqar, with all the cunning of a seasoned predator, had lured Lara into a false sense of dominance. Three half-volleys in his arc had conditioned the batsman to expect another driveable delivery. Then came the ambush.

Delivered with a blistering pace, the ball initially appeared destined for another full-length stroke. Lara, with his characteristic high backlift, shaped to meet it. But in the blink of an eye, the ball swerved wickedly inwards—a masterclass in late inswing.

Realizing the deception too late, Lara attempted an instinctive rescue act—shifting his feet, lowering his bat in a desperate attempt to block. It was futile. The ball had already breached his defences, crashing into the base of his leg stump. The spectacle was complete—Lara knocked off balance, collapsed onto his hands and knees, momentarily frozen in the humbling realization that he had been utterly undone.

Aftermath: A Moment Etched in Time

The image remains iconic, not just for its sheer brutality but for the poetic finality it represents. Lara, one of the most graceful batsmen in cricket history, had been rendered momentarily powerless—a testament to the sheer brilliance of his opponent.

Some dismissals are mere footnotes in a match report; others become the stuff of legend. This was the latter. Cricket has long been defined by moments where genius meets its match—Michael Holding’s evisceration of Geoffrey Boycott in the cauldron of Kensington Oval in 1981, Shane Warne’s ‘Ball of the Century’ to Mike Gatting in 1993. Waqar Younis' searing yorker in Rawalpindi belongs in the same pantheon.

Conclusion: Cricket’s Timeless Theatre

Cricket is, at its heart, a contest of moments—instances of brilliance that outlive the matches themselves. On that bleak morning in Rawalpindi, in front of a sparse but fortunate audience, Waqar Younis delivered a masterpiece. His dismissal of Brian Lara was not just a wicket; it was an emphatic statement, a moment of pure cricketing theatre.

For all the analysis of technique, tactics, and psychological warfare, some deliveries defy deconstruction. They exist as timeless artefacts of the game’s rich history, immune to revision or reinterpretation. Waqar’s yorker to Lara was one such moment—an unforgettable strike that stands as a testament to the beauty, cruelty, and enduring allure of cricket.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

Salim Malik’s Defiance and Australia’s Ghosts

Once again, Salim Malik stood like a man wading through quicksand, steadying Pakistan from another slide into the familiar abyss. Australia, meanwhile, conquered every facet of the contest except the one that mattered — the scoreboard. Their own hands betrayed them: five dropped catches, four of them in the first innings, as if the ghosts of Karachi and Lahore were conspiring to remind them that ruthlessness is more a state of mind than a technique.

Malik had chosen to bat on a surface that was soft and hesitant, its top layer deceptive, its pace uneven. It was a decision not born of boldness but of necessity. Within hours of the toss, Pakistan’s spearheads — Wasim Akram and Waqar Younis — had withdrawn, “officially” injured but, to the more cynical, casualties of a deeper dressing-room schism. That left Malik with an attack as brittle as it was brave: Aqib Javed shouldering too much, and Mohsin Kamal returning after seven long years in exile from Test cricket — an exile that said more about Pakistan’s selection chaos than about the man himself.

The Australians, too, arrived limping from their own private infirmary. Ian Healy’s left thumb was fractured, Steve Waugh’s shoulder damaged, and debutant Phil Emery, flown in as emergency cover, promptly bruised his own thumb. This was a team stitched together by defiance more than by fitness, and that fragility seeped into their cricket.

Only two days earlier, they had lifted the limited-overs trophy, jubilant and unguarded. But joy can dull the edge of discipline. When the Test began, they were sloppy, perhaps still caught between celebration and fatigue. Inzamam-ul-Haq was dropped on one and made 66. Ijaz Ahmed, controversially recalled on the back of fleeting one-day form, was also reprieved early on his way to 48. And Moin Khan, deputizing for the injured Rashid Latif, was twice granted life — on 51 and 70 — before converting it into his maiden Test century: an unbeaten 115 laced with 13 fours and three audacious sixes. Pakistan’s 373 felt spirited, if not impregnable — the kind of total that mocked the opponent’s wastefulness.

Yet Australia, as they had done all series, clawed their way back. Half-centuries from Slater, Mark Waugh, the serene Bevan, and a composed Justin Langer gave them an 82-run lead — their third such advantage in as many Tests. But leads in the subcontinent are only illusions until converted into victories.

Then came the rhythm of Glenn McGrath’s rebirth — tall, cold, relentless. He sliced through Pakistan’s fragile top order with surgical precision, restoring Australian belief. By the dawn of the final day, Pakistan were just 55 runs ahead with five wickets standing. The finish seemed preordained.

But Malik was not done rewriting scripts. Across two days — two hundred minutes on the fourth, three hundred on the fifth — he stitched together an innings of quiet ferocity. His strokes were less aggression than endurance, each one a rebuttal to fate. Around him, players found renewed purpose. Aamir Sohail, nursing a stiff neck so severe he had worn a brace the previous afternoon, was coaxed back into defiance. Together, they forged a 196-run stand in just over three and a half hours — an alliance that turned Australian certainty into resignation.

Even Shane Warne, that conjurer of collapse, could only toil in weary admiration. His three wickets for 104 in the second innings brought his match haul to nine for 240 — heroic numbers, yet ones that spoke of exhaustion more than domination. Seventy-one overs of relentless spin had left his right shoulder the subject of concern, as if the burden of rescuing Australia’s destiny had finally begun to exact its toll.

When the final wicket refused to fall, and Malik walked off unbeaten, the day felt heavier than a draw. It was a lesson — that courage often wears the mask of pragmatism, that beauty in cricket is not always in flight but in survival. Australia had controlled the match; Pakistan had captured its soul.

 Thank You

Faisal Caesar

 

Scoreboard Says: South Africa Win. Reality Says: Pakistan Never Even Showed Up

A defeat to South Africa should not shock anyone anymore. The shock is how predictable Pakistan’s downfall has become. On home soil, on a pitch designed to flatter their spinners, Pakistan still managed to dig their own grave — and then hand South Africa the shovel.

This wasn’t just a cricketing defeat. It was a public display of dysfunction — a reminder that Pakistan, despite all the talent, remain a team allergic to accountability, allergic to progress, and dangerously comfortable in chaos.

The Trap That Backfired

Pakistan spent days preparing a pitch to help their spin trio. By the end of Day Two, it looked like they’d prepared it for South Africa instead. The same surface that was supposed to choke the Proteas turned into a playground for Keshav Maharaj and company.

When Pakistan collapsed — again — losing five wickets for 17 runs, it didn’t even register as shocking. It was muscle memory. Maharaj ripped through them with a seven-wicket haul while Pakistan’s much-hyped batters folded like cheap umbrellas in a drizzle.

And yet, this script isn’t new. Pakistan collapsing isn’t a headline anymore — it’s an expectation.

South Africa: Calm, Clever, and Cold-Blooded

While Pakistan panicked, South Africa plotted. Tony de Zorzi and Tristan Stubbs showed exactly what modern Test cricket looks like — patience, precision, and the discipline to wait for your moment. No flash, no frenzy — just intelligent cricket.

Their 113-run stand was an act of defiance and control, turning the match on its head. They didn’t need fireworks to dominate; just competence — a word that’s gone missing in Pakistan’s dressing room.

Then came the lower order — Maharaj, Muthuswamy, Rabada — who batted like seasoned professionals while Pakistan looked like they’d never seen a tail wag before. When Rabada was carving Shaheen Afridi through the covers with painterly elegance, it wasn’t just runs on the board — it was humiliation painted stroke by stroke.

Pakistan’s Endless Excuses

Azhar Mahmood came out after the defeat and said what Pakistan coaches always say after losing: “We discussed this in camp.” Yes, they’ve been “discussing” collapses since 2016. And somehow, the collapses have only become more artistic.

Every post-match press conference sounds like a rerun. “We’ll learn.” “We’ll work hard.” “It’s not acceptable.” Yet nothing changes. Players rotate, captains change, coaches come and go — but the fragility remains the same.

Pakistan’s cricket isn’t suffering from lack of skill. It’s suffering from lack of backbone.

A Team That Thinks vs. A Team That Hopes

South Africa came prepared. They knew what to expect. They adjusted. They played to conditions, shuffled roles, and adapted strategies. Ashwell Prince’s philosophy — “find your rhythm, know your scoring options” — has turned their batters into craftsmen rather than sloggers.

Pakistan, meanwhile, batted like men hoping for miracles. Their plans start at toss and end with panic. Shan Masood’s field changes were reactionary. His bowling rotations, confused. His leadership, more symbolic than strategic.

South Africa think their way through sessions. Pakistan feel their way — and it shows.

The Chronic Collapse Syndrome

Pakistan’s collapses are now less a tactical failure and more a national pastime. Every time they build momentum, someone lights the self-destruct fuse. It’s as if this team fears stability — as if collapse is part of their identity.

This series was yet another masterclass in self-sabotage: top-order resistance, middle-order drift, tail-order surrender. Repeat, rinse, regret.

The Proteas Blueprint: Professionalism and Pride

What separates South Africa isn’t just talent — it’s intent. They arrived with a plan, executed it without theatrics, and left with a win built on discipline. They didn’t need sledging or swagger — just clarity.

From Maharaj’s masterclass with the ball to de Zorzi’s spin-school batting, to Rabada’s thunderous elegance — South Africa looked every bit like the world champions they are. Every player knew their job, and every role fit into a larger vision. That’s what a system looks like.

Pakistan: Stuck in the Past, Scared of the Future

Pakistan keep living in the shadow of 1992 — the ghost of Imran Khan’s “cornered tigers” still haunting a team that has long lost its claws. There’s no “cornered tiger” energy anymore, just cornered confusion.

Until Pakistan stop treating talent as destiny and start treating discipline as survival, every series will end the same way — with opposition sides walking away smarter, stronger, and prouder.

Final Verdict

This wasn’t a contest. It was a clinic.

South Africa came, studied Pakistan’s strengths, and turned them into weaknesses. Pakistan, as usual, came with noise and left with excuses.

The Proteas have evolved into a thinking, modern Test team. Pakistan, meanwhile, are still arguing over who to blame.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

 

Pakistan vs. Australia, 1994: A Battle of Will and Craft in Rawalpindi

Test cricket, at its finest, is a test of patience, resilience, and adaptability. It does not merely entertain—it interrogates the very essence of a cricketer’s temperament, probing for flaws and exposing weaknesses. The Pakistan-Australia series of 1994 was a case study in this enduring examination of character, where two teams, locked in transition, contested a series that would go on to shape their cricketing destinies.

The Prologue: A Shift in Leadership 

Mark Taylor had inherited the Australian captaincy from Allan Border, stepping into the shoes of a legend. The mission was clear: reclaim Australia’s dominance in Test cricket. Their ultimate goal lay months ahead—toppling the mighty West Indies in their own backyard—but before that, they had to conquer Pakistan, a fortress that had humbled many visiting teams before them.

Pakistan, too, was navigating a post-Miandad era. The void left by the street-smart genius of Javed Miandad was daunting, but the team was not short of firepower. The top order boasted the elegance of Saeed Anwar and Aamir Sohail, the promise of Inzamam-ul-Haq, and the enigmatic artistry of Salim Malik, who had been entrusted with the captaincy. Supporting them was a bowling attack feared across the cricketing world—Wasim Akram and Waqar Younis, reverse swing’s most lethal exponents, backed by the wily leg-spinner Mushtaq Ahmed.

The Karachi Test: A Study in Chaos and Brilliance

The first Test at Karachi unfolded as a classic, a battle between precision and perseverance. Wasim Akram’s eight wickets (8 for 138) and Waqar Younis’ seven (7 for 144) kept Australia in check, but David Boon’s resilient 114* was the backbone of a total that placed the visitors in command. From 171 for 2, Australia’s second innings unravelled spectacularly to 232 all out, a collapse engineered by the unrelenting reverse swing of Pakistan’s pace duo.

Pakistan’s chase of 314, however, turned into a labyrinth of despair. Shane Warne, weaving his magic on a wearing pitch, threatened to strangle the life out of the pursuit, claiming 8 for 150. At 184 for 7, Pakistan teetered on the edge of defeat. But cricket, ever the unpredictable beast, had other plans. Inzamam-ul-Haq and Rashid Latif fought with defiant resolve, adding 52 runs that breathed life into a waning chase. Mushtaq Ahmed, an unlikely hero, provided the final support as Inzamam steered Pakistan to a nerve-wracking one-wicket victory, sealing one of the most remarkable turnarounds in Test history.

The Rawalpindi Test: A Story of Redemption and Ruthlessness

With the wounds of Karachi still raw, Australia arrived in Rawalpindi determined to strike back. They introduced a debutant fast bowler named Damien Fleming, while Pakistan recalled Mohsin Kamal, once hailed as a prodigious quick but absent from the Test arena since 1987.

Malik opted to field first, trusting his bowlers to exploit early conditions. Yet, despite Wasim Akram’s gallant effort—bowling through excruciating back pain—Australia flourished. Michael Slater’s blistering 110 off 155 balls set the tone, and steady contributions from the Waugh twins, Michael Bevan, and Ian Healy propelled Australia to a commanding 521 for 9 before Taylor declared. Pakistan now faced a mountain.

Aamir Sohail’s Audacious Start, Pakistan’s Precarious Plunge

Pakistan’s response was blistering. Aamer Sohail, fearless and flamboyant, tore into the Australian attack, racing to 80 off 83 balls with exquisite strokeplay. But cricket’s equilibrium is delicate—soon, Pakistan crumbled to 198 for 8. The familiar resistance of Wasim and Waqar prolonged the innings, yet a deficit of 261 forced a humiliating follow-on.

Determined to press home the advantage, Taylor devised a ruthless plan. He had Jo Angel bowl menacing bouncers at Sohail, attempting to shake his confidence. The tactic nearly worked—Sohail mistimed a pull, the ball ballooned to Warne at deep square leg… and inexplicably, Warne spilt the chance. A lifeline had been granted.

By stumps, Pakistan had reached 324 for 2, securing a lead of 63. But the night belonged to one man—Saleem Malik.

Salim Malik’s Masterclass: An Innings for the Ages

Test cricket often bestows moments of redemption upon those who need it most, and for Malik, this was his grand reckoning. His innings was not just a counterattack—it was a statement.

Taylor, sensing the pivotal moment, had devised a plan to unsettle the Pakistani skipper. “Malik is obviously their key man,” he instructed Angel. “Let’s bowl him a good round of short ones and see how he handles them.” The first short ball after lunch had Malik fending, a thick edge carrying to Taylor at slip. The moment was there. The catch was there. And then—it wasn’t. Taylor, one of the safest hands in world cricket, had dropped him.

What followed was destruction. Malik’s first fifty came off 49 balls, laced with ten boundaries. Taylor, desperate, turned to Bevan’s part-time chinaman, but Malik was merciless, plundering 25 runs from three overs. His second fifty, though more measured, still included nine fours. When he finally drove Warne against the turn to bring up his century, the crowd erupted into applause that refused to wane.

By the time he departed for 237, Malik had orchestrated Pakistan’s resurrection. His artistry left Australia spellbound. The innings remains one of the greatest ever played by a Pakistani against Australia, a masterclass of controlled aggression and exquisite placement.

The Final Twist: Fleming’s Historic Hat-Trick

Just as Pakistan seemed untouchable, Test cricket’s penchant for drama resurfaced. Inzamam shuffled across to his first ball, was struck on the pads, and was promptly adjudged lbw. Damien Fleming, in only his second over in Test cricket, sensed an opportunity. As he ran in for his next ball, he whispered to McDermott, *“Saleem doesn’t know it yet, but he’s about to become part of Test history.”*

The delivery was perfect—a fast leg-cutter that shaped away late. Malik, on 237, reached for it, edged, and Healy gleefully accepted the catch. With that, Fleming became only the third bowler to take a hat-trick on Test debut, etching his name into cricketing folklore.

A Farcical End, A Lasting Legacy

The Test’s conclusion was almost comic. With Pakistan firmly in control, Taylor and Slater—pure batsmen—were given the ball. Each managed a wicket, their only Test scalps. Australia, facing the inevitable, extended hands in surrender. Pakistan had amassed 537, and Australia’s response was a mere formality.

Yet, beyond statistics and scorecards, this Test, much like Karachi before it, was a testament to the unpredictable beauty of the game. Australia had arrived with a point to prove, but Pakistan, fueled by resilience and artistry, had once again defied the odds.

For Saleem Malik, this was a crowning achievement. For Australia, it was a lesson in missed opportunities and relentless perseverance. For cricket, it was another chapter in the never-ending saga of triumph, heartbreak, and the eternal struggle between bat and ball. And for those who witnessed it, it was nothing short of poetry in motion.

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 

Black Caps Rising: Ravindra's Brilliance and Bangladesh’s Missed Chance

In a tournament marked by transition, New Zealand have remained steadfast. The Champions Trophy has showcased several teams in flux, but the Black Caps have been a beacon of continuity, signalling that their next generation is more than ready for the grand stage. Just a few years ago, Kane Williamson shouldered the burden of their batting lineup. Now, Rachin Ravindra has stepped forward, eager to claim that responsibility, embodying the spirit of a team that seamlessly blends experience with emerging talent.

Batting at an unfamiliar No. 4 position, Ravindra was thrust into the fray at 15 for 2. He neither hesitated nor faltered, and when he reached his century, it was with the same assuredness and unflappable demeanour that defined his entire innings. His knock not only sealed New Zealand’s place in the semi-finals but also confirmed India’s progression, officially eliminating Pakistan and Bangladesh. His innings was not just about runs; it was a statement, a declaration that he is ready to be a mainstay in the team’s future campaigns.

Bangladesh's Faltering Resolve

For Bangladesh, this was a must-win encounter, yet their approach lacked the urgency the situation demanded. They began fluently, scoring at nearly a run a ball, but then inexplicably drifted into a period of inertia. Ten of the next fifteen overs produced three runs or fewer. This stagnation invited pressure, which ultimately consumed their most experienced players. Mushfiqur Rahim and Mahmudullah, who together have played 511 international matches, managed a combined six runs before their dismissals left Najmul Hossain Shanto stranded in a crumbling structure.

Shanto's 77 off 110 deliveries reflected his predicament—constantly forced to readjust to new partners, recalibrating to ever-shifting match conditions. He could have done better, but the real disappointment lay in those around him, who should have done much more. The inexperience of the middle order, the lack of intent, and poor shot selection painted a picture of a team that seemed unwilling to rise to the occasion.

Ravindra’s Masterclass in Adaptation

For a brief moment, Bangladesh found hope. Taskin Ahmed and Nahid Rana ignited early sparks, dismantling Will Young’s stumps in the first over and dismissing Williamson cheaply. The energy was palpable; the fielders buzzed, and the crowd roared. Then came Ravindra, exuding calm amid the storm.

His touch is exquisite—effortless yet effective. He found gaps rather than forcing shots, relying on his impeccable timing. Introduced into the XI as a replacement for the ill Daryl Mitchell, he began his innings within the fielding restrictions, capitalizing on the gaps with precision. His first five boundaries were a masterclass in placement, each stroke executed with elegance and intent. His adaptability in reading the conditions and adjusting his approach showcased a maturity beyond his years.

As the field spread, Ravindra adjusted, transitioning seamlessly from aggression to control. His first 23 runs came at a brisk 21-ball pace, his next 28 from 29 deliveries. A brief moment of peril surfaced in the 12th over—a mix-up with Devon Conway nearly saw him run out, but Tanzid Hasan missed the direct hit. Bangladesh had an opportunity but let it slip. New Zealand, in contrast, did not miss theirs.

The Art of Execution

New Zealand’s excellence lay in execution. Williamson was instrumental in the field, pouching crucial catches at short midwicket and cover. Michael Bracewell, the unheralded hero, delivered a spell of precision—4 for 26 in an uninterrupted 10-over stint. His spell not only dismantled Bangladesh’s lineup but also exposed their fundamental flaw: an inability to rotate strike. His ability to slow down the pace, extract turn, and build pressure was a lesson in disciplined spin bowling.

Bangladesh’s innings was marred by 178 dot balls, with Bracewell alone accounting for 43 of them. Their struggles harked back to a bygone era—2012 was the last time they had batted with such anaemic intent in a 50-over match. Their approach to breaking the shackles was ill-conceived. Mushfiqur miscalculated a slog-sweep, failing to clear the long boundary. Mahmudullah, instead of consolidating, embarked on a reckless charge down the track, skying a leading edge to cover. Their tactics, or the lack thereof, showcased a team struggling to find a balance between aggression and responsibility.

The Difference Between Champions and Contenders

New Zealand showcased a level of control Bangladesh simply could not match. Even as the pitch improved under lights, the Black Caps maintained discipline. A telling moment arrived in the 40th over—New Zealand stationed only three boundary riders when five were permitted. They had Bangladesh pinned, mentally and tactically, dictating every aspect of the game.

By the time Bangladesh's innings concluded, it was a study in regret. The late movement under lights, the sharp turn, the low bounce, the direct-hit run-out—everything pointed to what could have been had they reached a competitive total. The missed run-out chance on Ravindra when he was 25 loomed large. A target of 260 might have made all the difference.

But in the end, New Zealand knew the formula: partnerships. Ravindra forged a crucial 57-run stand with Conway, followed by a defining 129-run alliance with Tom Latham—New Zealand’s crisis manager extraordinaire. Latham possesses the temperament of a man who, in a post-apocalyptic world, would quietly assume the role of the protagonist’s trusted advisor. His calculated approach, ability to assess situations, and execution of plans make him indispensable in the middle order.

First, though, there’s an ICC trophy at stake, and New Zealand have made it clear—they mean business. With a well-oiled machine, a new generation stepping up, and a hunger that remains undiminished, the Black Caps are on a mission. The semi-finals await, and if their performances thus far are any indication, New Zealand are far from done.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar  

The Resurrection of Pakistan Cricket: From Multan’s Graves to Rawalpindi’s Heights

Two weeks ago, Pakistan cricket lay seemingly dead and buried. The obituary was written, the body interred beneath the scorching Multan sun. But in true, mythical Pakistani fashion, what seemed like the lifeless remnants of a once-proud side stirred. It clawed its way back from the grave, shedding decay with every stride, not just to haunt England but to bewilder critics and revive the legend that defines Pakistan cricket—the art of impossible comebacks.

As the series progressed, the ashes of a fractured side scattered over Multan were swept up by a rising storm. A transformation was underway. Like a phoenix, Pakistan cricket emerged—beating wings of grit and unpredictability—soaring to heights only they dare to dream. When the battle concluded in Rawalpindi, England, the aggressors, stood bewildered and broken, reduced from record-breakers to vanquished travellers in unfamiliar terrain. It was Pakistan at its quintessential best, reminding the world why they remain the most enigmatic and dangerous side in world cricket.  

From Bazball to Baffled: Unmasking England’s Kryptonite

England had arrived armed with their flamboyant, fearless “Bazball” strategy—a revolution of relentless aggression. But revolutions, too, have their undoing. Pakistan dismantled Bazball not with brute force, but with subtle mastery. The key was an audacious gamble: abandon pace, embrace spin. On home soil, they rolled out turning tracks from Day 1, entrusting the outcome to wily spinners and dogged batsmanship rather than pace-heavy Twenty20 bowlers.  

Pakistan’s response was anything but predictable, turning to forgotten soldiers like Noman Ali and Sajid Khan. It was a high-risk, high-reward manoeuvre—and it worked. On surfaces designed to erode the visitor’s confidence, England’s batters faltered, undone by turn, drift, and guile. As the dust settled, Pakistan had not only levelled the series but also clinched a momentous win in Rawalpindi, securing a long-awaited home series victory after three and a half years.

The Phoenix Rises: Grit and Glory in the Crucial Moments 

Pakistan cricket’s biggest challenge over the past year was not talent but temperament. They had stumbled in critical junctures, surrendering from seemingly winning positions—a pattern that demanded change. And this time, when the moment came, they chose *resilience.* In the second and third Tests, where collapse seemed imminent, the batsmen rediscovered the value of patience and grit.  

None embodied this transformation more than Saud Shakeel. His stoic 134 off 223 balls was an innings of survival and defiance. It wasn’t just another hundred; it was an assertion that Pakistan would no longer squander opportunities. Shakeel’s innings was crucial, not just because of the runs, but because it anchored the team during troubled waters. Lower-order contributions from Noman Ali (45) and Sajid Khan (48 not out) provided the perfect support, stitching partnerships of 88 and 72 to propel Pakistan to a vital first-innings lead of 77.  

The bowlers, in turn, played their roles to perfection. Noman and Sajid—armed with the knowledge that every turn of the ball would bite into England’s resolve—tore through the visitor’s batting line-up. The third day witnessed a collapse that exemplified Pakistan’s mystique: their spinners ran rampant, England crumbled, and Pakistan clinched victory with panache.

Unpredictable but Unrelenting: The Way Forward

Pakistan’s story is one of defiance. It is a side that thrives in chaos yet remains maddeningly inconsistent. They are a team capable of genius and disaster in the same breath, and unpredictability remains both their strength and their Achilles' heel. This series win is a reminder that the phoenix has risen again, but the real challenge is sustainability.  

Too often, Pakistan has dazzled with fleeting brilliance only to sink back into mediocrity. The victories earned here were forged through discipline, strategic thinking, and hard work—qualities that cannot be taken for granted. If Pakistan are to reclaim their place among cricket's elite, they must now build on these triumphs with consistency and purpose.  

The phoenix may have soared over Rawalpindi, but the blue skies of international cricket demand more than momentary flights. The future lies in nurturing this momentum, shedding complacency, and mastering the delicate balance between flair and discipline. Only then can Pakistan truly escape the gravitational pull of inconsistency that has long been their undoing.  

This is Pakistan cricket—maddening, majestic, and mythical. They are not just survivors but shape-shifters, capable of turning defeat into triumph at will. And as history shows, those who underestimate Pakistan do so at their peril. After all, they remain what they have always been—the most unpredictable, thrilling force in world cricket.

Thank You 

Faisal Caesar 

Grit and Determination: Bangladesh’s Journey Through Political Strife and Sporting Triumph

In the pursuit of success, few qualities resonate as universally as grit and determination. These attributes, often intertwined, form the bedrock of human achievement across various domains, be it sports, business, academia, or personal endeavours. Grit and determination empower individuals to overcome obstacles, push beyond perceived limits, and attain goals that once appeared unattainable.

Grit embodies the ability to maintain focus and sustained effort over time, regardless of the challenges encountered. It is the force that compels an athlete to train through injury, a student to study late into the night, or an entrepreneur to persist in launching a business despite repeated setbacks. This relentless pursuit, fueled by resilience, creates a framework for long-term success.

Determination, on the other hand, serves as the driving force behind an individual’s journey. It encompasses the internal resolve to keep moving forward in the face of overwhelming odds. This mental and emotional fortitude is what prevents one from capitulating, regardless of how daunting the challenge may seem. Often, determination is ignited by a profound sense of purpose or a deep belief in the significance of the goal, motivating individuals to rise after each fall and learn from their mistakes.

In Bangladesh, the recent Quota Reform Movement—evolving into a campaign against the autocratic regime of Sheikh Hasina—has vividly illustrated the power of grit and determination. As the regime shed the blood of innocents and declared its invincibility, the democratic forces rallied with unwavering resolve, ultimately leading to a quest for freedom. The success of this movement is poised to reshape the political landscape, serving as an inspiration for a broader demand for transparency and accountability throughout the nation. The mass protests of July and early August are likely to be etched in history as a pivotal moment in Bangladesh’s pursuit of a just and equitable society.

Amidst this political activism, 2024 also witnessed a landmark achievement in sports, as Bangladesh secured a Test series victory against Pakistan. This triumph not only underscored the nation’s burgeoning prowess in cricket but also held profound cultural and emotional significance. The series epitomized the grit and determination of the Tigers, who, in both Tests, rallied from precarious positions to assert dominance over their opponents. Under pressure, Bangladesh displayed an indomitable spirit, exemplifying their refusal to concede defeat.

The victory against a historically formidable cricketing nation like Pakistan marked a significant milestone in Bangladesh’s evolution as a competitive force in the sport. The series highlighted the maturity and skill development of the Bangladeshi team, which has steadily improved over the years. Renowned for producing high-quality fast bowlers, Pakistan faced a challenging matchup as Bangladesh countered with their own pace attack, characterized by sheer discipline and aggression.

Emerging players like Nahid Rana have captured attention, and his development must be nurtured carefully to ensure that the shorter formats do not disrupt his momentum. Hasan Mahmud, too, has shown commendable progress, mastering the nuances of line and length.

Furthermore, the Bangladeshi batsmen displayed remarkable resilience under pressure, transforming it into a catalyst for performance rather than a source of surrender. Their cultured approach to batting, blending resolve with technical efficiency, was pivotal in turning the tide against Pakistan.

Credit is also due to Najmul Hossain Shanto’s captaincy and Chandika Hathurusingha’s coaching, both of whom successfully balanced the tumultuous off-field environment with on-field performance. Under Hathurusingha’s guidance during his second tenure since 2023, Bangladesh has achieved a remarkable win percentage of 62.5 in Test cricket, scoring at an impressive rate of 3.72 runs per over. The pace attack has thrived with a strike rate of 43 and an economy of 3.35, alongside an average of 27 on flat pitches—an indication of significant improvement.

In a nation grappling with the upheaval wrought by the fascist regime, alongside the psychological toll of recent flash floods, the cricket team’s ability to focus and deliver joy to the people was no small feat. The determination to uplift a country that gained its independence amidst such turmoil reflects a profound commitment to not just sport, but to national pride and unity.

In this backdrop of resilience and hope, the events of July 36 and July 65 resonate deeply, marking a journey toward a brighter future.

Thank you, 

Faisal Caesar

 

Litton Kumer Das: Battling Adversity and Resurrecting Bangladesh's Innings with Grit

Batting under pressure has become a familiar battleground for Litton Kumer Das, and his latest outing was no exception. As he strode to the crease against Pakistan, Bangladesh found themselves in dire straits, mirroring past challenges he faced—most notably three years ago in Chattogram, where he entered at 49 for 4, and again a year later in Mirpur against Sri Lanka at 24 for 5. On both occasions, Litton responded with hundreds, and the circumstances at Rawalpindi demanded nothing less.

The Pakistani pace attack, led by Khurram Shahzad and Mir Hamza, unleashed a relentless assault, wreaking havoc on the Bangladeshi batting order. In a mere 34 balls during the first hour of Day 3, they struck six times, showcasing their ability to swing the ball while maintaining a disciplined line. Hamza exerted the pressure, while Shahzad capitalized, particularly targeting the left-handers with precision and discipline.

With Bangladesh teetering at 26 for 6—threatening to register their lowest total in Test cricket—the situation was dire. The fundamentals of Test cricket dictate that when the ball is new and moving, the first hour belongs to the bowlers. Litton and in-form Mehidy Hasan Miraz knew they had to weather the storm, allowing the shine to fade, as the current Pakistani bowlers lacked the finesse to exploit an older ball.

Post-lunch, Litton began to assert his presence, attacking Shahzad with vigour. He dispatched the bowler for two boundaries in three balls and followed up with three more in the next over, igniting Bangladesh's recovery. In the first six overs after lunch, the team amassed 40 runs, signalling a shift in momentum.

Together, Litton and Mehidy orchestrated a remarkable partnership, adding 165 runs for the seventh wicket and pulling Bangladesh from the brink of disaster. Their fight continued into the final session; resuming at 193 for 8 after tea, Litton and Mahmud made the Pakistani bowlers toil for over two hours. Litton, exhibiting shrewdness, farmed the strike, often denying singles to give Mahmud only a handful of balls. This strategy allowed Litton to reach his century with a deft dab to backward point, overcoming cramps that threatened his performance.

Litton's innings can be likened to an adventure reminiscent of Harrison Ford in Indiana Jones—an interplay of attack and counter-attack that defied the odds without succumbing to haste. Naturally adept at playing off the back foot, Litton skillfully exploited the vacant third-man area by pivoting quickly and executing late cuts with finesse. When the ball was pitched in the middle and off, he showcased nimble footwork, crafting straight drives and creating space for offside strokes. Anything aimed at his pads was dispatched to midwicket, showcasing his range and intent.

Despite Pakistan's attempts to manipulate the field, their strategy backfired; Litton’s ability to rotate the strike kept their bowlers off balance, preventing them from settling into a rhythm. His pull and hook shots against the short deliveries drained the energy from the Pakistani attack. In that zone of confidence, Litton felt invincible, commanding the game with an assurance that suggested nothing could thwart his mission to save Bangladesh.

Ultimately, Bangladesh concluded their innings trailing by a mere 12 runs—a margin that could have been far more daunting had Litton not channelled the adventurous spirit of Indiana Jones within him. His performance was not just a display of skill; it was a testament to resilience and the power of grit in the face of adversity.

Thank you, 

Faisal Caesar

 

 

Bangladesh Triumphs in Rawalpindi: A Historic Win Amid Political Turmoil and Tragedy

The political landscape in Bangladesh has rarely resembled a calm river, especially over the past 15 years under a repressive regime. Protests and chaos have become almost normative, with student demands—such as those surrounding the controversial quota system—often dismissed as fleeting moments. However, the situation escalated violently following inflammatory remarks from former Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina, revealing the deep-seated tensions within the country.

Under Hasina’s directives, law enforcement and factions of the Awami League pointed weapons at peaceful protesters, leading to horrific bloodshed that did not even spare a four-year-old child. The violence persisted until early August when the Bangladesh Army intervened in a bid for peace. Ultimately, Hasina fled to India, and on August 5, 2024, Bangladeshis took to the streets, celebrating their newfound independence after a prolonged period of oppression.

Tragically, reports indicate that between July 16 and August 16, 2024, 624 lives were lost—354 before Hasina’s resignation, with 66 of the deceased being children. A United Nations investigation later confirmed that at least 650 people had been killed, with over 20,000 injured and more than 11,000 arrested across the nation. The gruesome imagery shared on social media after a seven-day internet blackout left the populace stunned, exposing the brutal reality of Hasina’s regime. The names of martyrs—Abu Sayed, Mir Mugdho, Shaykh Ashhabul Yamin, and others—became synonymous with the struggle against tyranny.

While some Awami League supporters remained silent amidst the massacre, a larger segment joined the student-led movement, ultimately propelling the quest for freedom forward. The struggle for democracy has never been easy in Bangladesh, especially with fascist elements attempting counter-revolutions and external supporters rallying behind the oppressive regime. Compounding the nation’s struggles, a devastating flash flood struck, triggered by the opening of the Damburu Dam in Tripura.

Against this chaotic backdrop, the Bangladesh Cricket Team embarked on a bilateral series in Pakistan. The nation, preoccupied with aiding flood victims, paid little heed to the cricketing spectacle. Yet, amid turmoil, the team displayed remarkable resilience. On Day 1, after a delayed start due to wet conditions, the Bangladeshi bowlers initially had the Pakistani batsmen on the ropes. However, the home side eventually countered, declaring their innings with a strong performance.

By Day 3, Shadman Islam’s patient 93 laid the groundwork, supported by half-centuries from Mominul Haque, Mushfiqur Rahim, and Litton Das. Bangladesh entered the final stretch at 132 runs adrift of Pakistan’s first innings total, with Mushfiqur and Litton forming a crucial partnership. On Day 4, Mushfiqur’s masterful 191 shifted the momentum, showcasing a blend of caution and aggression that was essential for a team still recovering from the July atrocities.

The pitch at Rawalpindi, predictably flat, suggested a dull draw. Yet the Bangladeshi pacers, along with spinners Mehidy Hasan Miraz and the controversial Shakib Al Hasan—who faced scrutiny for his past political affiliations—turned the tables against the odds. Hasan Mahmud applied relentless pressure, while Nahid Rana’s express pace jolted the Pakistani lineup. Shakib and Miraz exploited the conditions expertly, with the spinners posting remarkable figures: Mehidy claimed 5 for 101, and Shakib took 4 for 144.

In a historic turn of events, Bangladesh bowled Pakistan out cheaply, requiring just 30 runs for a momentous victory. Zakir Hasan and Shadman Islam sealed the win, with Zakir striking the winning runs, making history as Pakistan faced a ten-wicket defeat at home in a Test match for the first time.

In a poignant gesture, Bangladesh skipper Najmul Hossain dedicated the victory to the martyrs of the July Massacre. Before the Test, he expressed confidence, stating, “Records can change. It won't be easy for Pakistan. We have a balanced side. We believe we can do special things this time.” Indeed, the records shifted as the Bangladeshi flag soared high in Rawalpindi, symbolizing a nation's resilience.

Focusing on cricket amid such turmoil was a monumental challenge, yet the Tigers channelled their adversities into motivation, determined to uplift a nation still grappling with the aftermath of political upheaval and natural disasters. This victory was not merely a sporting triumph; it represented a collective sigh of relief, a moment of hope, and a reaffirmation of the spirit of a nation that had endured much but refused to be subdued.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

 

 

Rawalpindi Test: Third Consecutive Innings Defeat for Bangladesh

The morning sun bathed Rawalpindi in a golden glow, casting a serene blue sky above. Yet, as the sun rose higher, so did the stark contrast between the hosts and the visitors on the cricket field. Bangladesh, despite having the early opportunities to challenge Pakistan, seemed to have been caught off guard, their resistance crumbling as quickly as the wickets fell. It was as though they had set their sights on an early exit, eager to catch an afternoon flight, rather than battling for a lasting presence on the pitch.

Pakistan, on the other hand, savoured the simplicity of the victory. A win so easy, so unchallenged, left little satisfaction for the opposition. The lack of fight from Bangladesh allowed for an extra day of rest—a luxury that few Test matches afford. It was a victory devoid of the drama that makes cricket memorable, the kind of win that doesn’t even afford the defeated the dignity of a challenge.

Despite the early promise of resistance, Bangladesh’s batsmen once again displayed an alarming tendency to self-destruct. Starts were made, but they were followed by reckless shot selection and an apparent inability to adjust their footwork. The second innings saw six Bangladesh batsmen fall victim to the leg-before-wicket dismissal—a fate that has become all too familiar for the team. It was only the second time in their Test history that such a fate had befallen them in an innings, the first instance occurring in 2009 against Sri Lanka. The record for the most LBWs in an innings belongs to Zimbabwe (7 against England in 2003) and New Zealand (7 against Australia), but the recurrence of this issue for Bangladesh speaks volumes about their technical frailties.

The crux of the problem lies in the inability to move the feet effectively, particularly against deliveries that nip back or are pitched fuller. This flaw, deeply ingrained in the mindset of Bangladeshi batsmen, is nurtured on the docile pitches of the domestic circuit, where bowlers struggle to extract any real assistance from the surface. On such pitches, a lack of foot movement can often go unnoticed, and batters can accumulate runs without truly being tested. But when they step outside this comfort zone, as they did in Rawalpindi, the lack of preparation becomes painfully evident.

Rawalpindi, a pitch that should have offered enough for the batsmen to make a fight of it, instead became a graveyard for Bangladesh’s ambitions. The question remains: why did they capitulate so easily? One possible explanation lies in the deep-seated habits formed on the placid decks of domestic cricket. These habits, once ingrained, are not easily shaken off, even in the face of stiffer challenges.

The lack of discipline in shot selection, even when set at the crease, continues to plague Bangladesh’s senior batsmen. Mominul Haque, Tamim Iqbal, and Mahmudullah Riyad, all of whom have considerable experience, should have been the guiding lights for their younger counterparts. Instead, their shot choices raised questions about their judgment and sensibility. While the absence of key players is often cited as an excuse, the fact remains that the team possesses enough seasoned cricketers to provide direction and stability.

This defeat in Rawalpindi marked the third consecutive innings defeat for Bangladesh, further cementing their reputation as a team struggling to find its footing in the longer format. With 89 defeats from 118 Tests, their losing percentage stands at a staggering 75.42%. The recent triumph of the young Tigers in South Africa, a bright spot in Bangladesh’s cricketing history, cannot obscure the grim reality of the Test team’s ongoing struggles. Beneath the shine of that achievement lies the persistent shadow of Bangladesh’s Test cricket woes, a sad and ongoing saga that refuses to fade away.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

Rawalpindi Test: Bangladesh Undone by Naseem Storm

Day 3 at Rawalpindi was a tale of two halves for Bangladesh, where promise and poise in the morning gave way to chaos and capitulation by the evening. The morning session shone brightly for the visitors, mirroring the crisp sunshine that bathed the ground. Abu Jayed and Ebadat Hossain set the tone with disciplined, probing spells that rattled the Pakistani batting order.

Jayed, in particular, was the architect of control. His unwavering line-and-length in the corridor of uncertainty left the batters guessing. Babar Azam, the overnight anchor, fell prey to Jayed’s persistence, departing without adding to his score. Ebadat then joined the fray, extracting movement off the deck and striking at crucial junctures. After the drinks break, Rubel Hossain chipped in with wickets, his late seam movement proving difficult to negotiate despite the occasional expense.

The standout tactical manoeuvre of the morning was Jayed’s round-the-wicket assault on Haris Sohail. With precision, he targeted the middle and off stumps, creating angles that hinted at movement away or into the batter, depending on the line. This clever adjustment bore the fingerprints of bowling coach Ottis Gibson, whose expertise seemed reminiscent of his work with Stuart Broad in similar situations. Though Sohail counterattacked to swell Pakistan’s lead, the charged-up Bangladeshi bowlers managed to stem the flow and restrict further damage.

Bangladesh’s reply began on a steady note. Nazmul Hossain and Mominul Haque exhibited resilience and maturity, blunting the Pakistani attack with sound technique. Mominul curbed his tendency to flirt with deliveries outside off, while Nazmul’s solid defence suggested a partnership that could anchor the innings. For a while, it seemed Bangladesh had weathered the storm.

But then came the 41st over, and with it, the unravelling. Naseem Shah, the 16-year-old prodigy, delivered a spell that will be etched in Rawalpindi’s cricketing lore. His fourth ball of the over was full and jagged back sharply from wide of the crease, rapping Nazmul on the pads. Though it appeared to be sliding down leg, Azhar Ali’s astute review revealed the ball clipping the stumps. The defiant stand was broken.

The very next delivery, Naseem cranked up the pace, delivering a similar-length ball that proved too much for nightwatchman Taijul Islam. The stumps were shattered, and suddenly, Bangladesh found themselves staring at a hat-trick ball. Enter Mahmudullah Riyad, tasked with stemming the tide. Naseem, brimming with confidence, bowled wide outside off. Mahmudullah’s tentative push, devoid of foot movement, resulted in a straightforward catch at slip. History was made—Naseem Shah became the youngest bowler in Test cricket to claim a hat-trick, a feat not achieved by a Pakistani on home soil since Mohammad Sami in 2002.

The collapse didn’t end there. Mohammad Mithun, in a moment of inexplicable recklessness, attempted a wild shot against Yasir Shah’s zooter, gifting his wicket away. It was a stroke so ill-conceived that even tail-enders would shy away from such audacity in today’s game.

What made this implosion even more disheartening was how it overshadowed the promise shown earlier in the day. Bangladesh’s bowlers had fought valiantly to claw back into the match, and the top order had laid a foundation that hinted at resilience. But cricket is a game of sessions, and by the close of play, the story of Day 3 was one of the squandered opportunities and a young pacer’s moment of brilliance.

Bangladesh’s hard work in the morning was undone in a single over of magic and madness. It was a stark reminder of the fine margins in Test cricket, where moments of brilliance can undo hours of toil.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar