The Dawn of New Beginnings: Bangladesh’s Moment to Rewrite History

May 31, 1999, is etched in the annals of Bangladesh cricket as a day of revolution. A spirited Bangladeshi side, participating in their maiden World Cup, shocked the cricketing world by toppling tournament favourites Pakistan in Northampton. That historic victory not only announced Bangladesh's arrival on the global stage but also catalyzed their journey toward Test status the following year. It was a moment of collective pride, one that ignited hope in a cricket-obsessed nation.  

Since then, Bangladesh’s cricket story has been one of resilience and incremental progress. While their Test cricket exploits have remained modest, the Tigers have built a reputation in One-Day Internationals (ODIs) as a force capable of slaying giants. They have notched victories over cricketing powerhouses such as India, Sri Lanka, England, West Indies, and New Zealand. Yet, a curious anomaly persists—their inability to triumph against Pakistan since that unforgettable day in 1999.  

In 32 encounters since Pakistan has emerged victorious every time. Even as Bangladesh has grown in stature and competitive spirit, the spectre of Pakistan has loomed large. Recent clashes, particularly in the Asia Cup, have seen Bangladesh push their neighbours to the brink. These nail-biting contests may have ended in Pakistan’s favour, but they underscored Bangladesh’s growing maturity and tenacity. Now, with a three-match ODI series set to begin on April 17, 2015, Bangladesh stands on the cusp of breaking the jinx.  

A New Context, A New Challenge  

For the first time in their cricketing history, Bangladesh will start as favourites against a traditionally dominant side. This shift in dynamics owes much to the Tigers’ steady evolution under coach Chandika Hathurusinghe. The team has found a balance between youthful exuberance and seasoned experience, evident in their spirited World Cup 2015 campaign, where they reached the quarterfinals. That performance has infused the side with renewed confidence, making them a formidable unit on home soil.  

The batting lineup, led by Tamim Iqbal, Mushfiqur Rahim, Mahmudullah, and Shakib Al Hasan, is a well-oiled machine. With a mix of flair and composure, these batsmen have developed the temperament to navigate world-class bowling attacks. On the bowling front, the pace duo of Taskin Ahmed and Rubel Hossain brings speed and aggression, while Shakib and Arafat Sunny add guile to the spin department. Together, they form a versatile attack capable of exploiting Pakistan’s vulnerabilities.  

Pakistan, on the other hand, arrives in Dhaka in a transitional phase. Key stalwarts like Misbah-ul-Haq, Shahid Afridi, and Younis Khan are absent, leaving the team reliant on a new generation led by the inexperienced Azhar Ali. With only 14 ODIs under his belt and a two-year hiatus from the format, Azhar’s appointment as captain underscores Pakistan’s current uncertainties. Their bowling remains potent, with Wahab Riaz and Saeed Ajmal leading the charge, but their young and untested batting lineup will face a stern examination against Bangladesh’s confident bowlers.  

Breaking the Jinx  

This series represents more than just a chance to end a 16-year drought against Pakistan; it is an opportunity for Bangladesh to establish themselves as a genuine contender on the world stage. The psychological barrier that Pakistan has represented can only be shattered through decisive performances, not narrow defeats.  

The Tigers have the momentum, talent, and home advantage to script a new chapter in their rivalry. For Bangladesh cricket, this series is a call to action—a moment to transform potential into history and near-misses into victories.  

As the first ball is bowled in Mirpur, the echoes of Northampton will linger. Sixteen years of waiting, striving, and growing will converge on this series. Bangladesh stands at the threshold of a new dawn. The time has come to not just compete but to conquer.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

Crack Down on the Bowlers by ICC: The Perils of Regulation and the Struggle for Innovation

Bangladesh cricket is at a crossroads. The national team’s ongoing struggles, marked by repeated defeats on the field and constant controversies off it, have cast a long shadow over the game in the country. For passionate Bangladeshi cricket fans, there has been little to celebrate recently, as the cricketing landscape remains dominated by disappointment, scandal, and uncertainty. Amid this tumult, a new controversy has emerged that threatens to further unravel the sport: the ICC's renewed crackdown on suspected illegal bowling actions.

The Crackdown on Bowling Actions

The recent news that Bangladesh fast bowler Al-Amin Hossain has been reported for a suspected illegal bowling action has sent shockwaves through the cricketing fraternity. Hossain, a promising talent, is the latest in a growing list of bowlers flagged by the ICC for their actions. He becomes the sixth player to be reported, joining a list that includes his compatriot Sohag Gazi, and becoming the first fast bowler from Bangladesh to face such scrutiny. The timing of this development has been particularly unsettling for the Bangladesh cricket community, already reeling from the national team’s poor performances.

This issue is not just about one player; it represents a broader concern over the ICC's increasingly stringent stance on what constitutes a ‘legal’ bowling action. For the governing body of world cricket, the message is clear: the integrity of the game must be upheld, and any action that threatens the fairness and spirit of the game must be rooted out. The crackdown on illegal bowling actions, however, raises complex questions about fairness, innovation, and the evolution of the sport.

A Renewed War on ‘Illegal’ Actions

The ICC's focus on illegal bowling actions has intensified in recent years, with the governing body implementing new measures to ensure that bowlers’ actions are within the regulations. In June, during an ICC Cricket Committee meeting, the governing body expressed concerns over the effectiveness of the biomechanical lab at the University of Western Australia in Perth, which has long been the standard for testing bowling actions. As a result, the ICC has moved to accredit other biomechanics labs around the world to offer greater support to match officials and ensure that suspected illegal actions are accurately identified.

This renewed scrutiny has had its fair share of casualties. Bowlers like Sri Lanka’s Sachithra Senanayake, New Zealand’s Kane Williamson, and Pakistan’s Saeed Ajmal have all been banned or suspended after their actions were deemed illegal by the ICC. Ajmal's suspension in 2013, which declared his action illegal for all deliveries, shocked the cricket world and marked a turning point in the ICC’s approach to illegal actions.

While the ICC’s drive to uphold the integrity of the game is commendable, it raises serious concerns about the implications for bowlers, particularly those whose actions fall within a grey area. The focus on biomechanics, while scientifically rigorous, risks overlooking the nuances and complexities of bowling as an art form. The more rigid the rules become, the more constrained bowlers feel, particularly those who rely on subtle variations in their actions to deceive batsmen.

A Crisis of Confidence: Muttiah Muralitharan and the Legacy of Innovation

The ICC's growing scrutiny of bowling actions inevitably leads to questions about its approach to legendary bowlers whose actions were once considered to be within the legal parameters but are now coming under fresh examination. The case of Muttiah Muralitharan, one of the greatest bowlers in cricket history, is particularly pertinent. Muralitharan, whose action was deemed legal by the University of Western Australia’s biomechanics lab, is now caught in the crosshairs of a broader debate about what constitutes a 'legal' action.

If the ICC is now dissatisfied with the results of the biomechanics lab in Perth, should it re-evaluate the validity of bowlers who have passed through it, including Muralitharan? This hypothetical scenario is not as far-fetched as it might seem, especially considering the evolving nature of biomechanics and the increasing scrutiny placed on bowling actions in the modern game. The very idea of reopening Muralitharan's case sends a chilling message to current and future bowlers: innovation, no matter how brilliant or effective, is under constant threat.

The Stifling of Innovation

At the heart of the debate over illegal bowling actions lies a deeper issue: the growing stifling of bowling innovation. Over the years, the ICC's increasing regulation of bowling actions has created an environment where bowlers are afraid to experiment. What was once celebrated as the art of deception—the subtle variations in pace, spin, and angle that make bowling such a fascinating and complex discipline—has now become a minefield of legal boundaries.

The fear of having a unique delivery reported as illegal has led to many bowlers, particularly spinners, retreating into more orthodox, and sometimes less effective, methods. The doosra, a delivery popularized by the likes of Saeed Ajmal and Muttiah Muralitharan, has become a symbol of the battle between innovation and regulation. It is now regarded with suspicion, despite being one of the most ingenious deliveries in the game. Similarly, reverse swing bowling, once a hallmark of fast bowling, is now viewed with wariness, as bowlers fear being branded as violators of the laws of cricket.

This growing fear of innovation threatens the very essence of the game. Cricket, like all sports, evolves through the ingenuity of its players. Just as batsmen are encouraged to experiment with new shots, such as the reverse sweep or switch-hit, bowlers too should have the freedom to innovate within the rules. If we accept that a batsman can change the way the game is played with a new stroke, why should a bowler be penalized for developing a new delivery?

The Need for Balance

As the ICC continues its battle against illegal actions, there is a pressing need for a more balanced approach—one that recognizes the importance of both fairness and innovation. There is no doubt that the integrity of the game must be protected, but this should not come at the cost of stifling the creative spirit that has made cricket such a dynamic and evolving sport.

The ICC must strike a delicate balance, allowing bowlers to push the boundaries of their craft while ensuring that they remain within the parameters of fairness. This may mean revisiting some of the existing rules and guidelines surrounding bowling actions to ensure they reflect the changing nature of the game and the challenges faced by bowlers in a modern cricketing landscape. Just as the laws of batting have evolved over time to accommodate innovation, so too should the laws governing bowling.

Ultimately, cricket must remain a place where both batsmen and bowlers can express their skills and creativity without fear of being unfairly punished. The ICC's role is not only to regulate but also to foster the growth and evolution of the game. By doing so, it can ensure that the game remains both fair and vibrant and that the innovations of today’s bowlers are not tragically lost to the past.

In the end, cricket’s future lies in finding harmony between the strictures of fairness and the freedom of creativity. The question remains: will the ICC rise to the challenge? Or will it continue down a path that risks suffocating the very innovations that have made the game what it is today?

 

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

An Evening with Legends: A Cricket Fan’s Unforgettable Encounters at the Asia Cup

The sun had set over Dhaka, and the city buzzed with the energy of the Asia Cup. For cricket fans, it was a festival of heroes—a chance to encounter the players they admired, players who inspired them to stay glued to matches and revere each boundary and wicket. For me, that Asia Cup wasn’t just a spectacle on TV but a rare chance to meet a friend from Sri Lanka and get a glimpse into the world of cricket's legends, a privilege for any devoted fan.

That friend was Kanagasabapathy Arulmoly, or Arul, as I fondly call him. Arul had come to Dhaka for work, yet he shared my love for cricket as if it were part of his very spirit. We bonded on Facebook through our mutual admiration for the game, each respecting the other’s nation’s strengths and players. When Arul invited me to meet him at the Pan Pacific Sonargaon Hotel—the very hotel where Asia Cup teams were staying—I could hardly contain my excitement.

Braving Dhaka’s relentless traffic from Mirpur to Sonargaon Hotel was no small feat. But, as any cricket fan knows, traffic is a small price to pay for an evening spent in the company of a friend and the mere possibility of meeting the cricketers we idolized. I arrived a bit late, yet my spirits were high, and Arul greeted me with the warmth of an old friend. As we took our seats in the lounge, our conversation flowed effortlessly, every word a celebration of our shared love for cricket.

To our surprise, we spotted Rahul Sharma, the tall Indian leg spinner, engaged in a phone call. Arul, ever the optimist, nudged me and said, “Who knows? Maybe we’ll get a chance to meet the others.” I laughed, imagining the barriers—security, player protocols, and the very aura that separated fans from the world of their cricketing heroes.

We moved to the dining area and spotted a cluster of Indian players—Gautam Gambhir, Suresh Raina, Virat Kohli, and the Pathan brothers, all sharing a meal with Praveen Kumar. Arul and I shared a quiet, shared thrill. Kohli stood up to get dessert, and Arul encouraged me to approach him. I greeted him with a “Salaam,” but he appeared uninterested, as did Gambhir. I retreated, half-disappointed yet still exhilarated at just being in their presence. 

It was then that we noticed MS Dhoni sitting alone, lost in thought. As I watched him, I felt an inexplicable connection—here was the calm, steadfast leader who had steered his team to countless victories. Despite the opportunity, I hesitated to disturb him, but Arul and I speculated—was he seated alone by choice, or did he prefer a quiet moment to himself amidst the team’s usual camaraderie?

As we were about to leave the dining area, we encountered Azhar Ali, the rising Pakistani batsman. With a respectful “Salaam,” I asked if we might take a photo together, and he graciously agreed, leaving me touched by his warmth and generosity. Our excitement only grew as we walked toward the poolside, where we found Younis Khan. Ever the gentleman, Younis greeted me with a bright smile, and, with my friend’s help, we captured a treasured moment in a photograph. Younis soon departed, but Arul and I continued exploring the poolside, captivated by each player encounter.

We soon came upon Misbah-ul-Haq, Saeed Ajmal, and Umar Gul, relaxed and unwinding. While Ajmal was busy on a call, Misbah graciously allowed us to take a picture, though his demeanour was reserved. But it was Umar Gul who left a lasting impression. Friendly and welcoming, he invited us to sit beside him for the photo. As we thanked him and moved on, we both felt a deep appreciation for the kindness that these players showed to their fans.

Back at the dining area, Dhoni was still seated alone. Summoning courage, I approached him and asked, “Sir, may I have a snap with you?” To my delight, Dhoni agreed, inviting me to sit with him. Despite some camera troubles, he patiently waited for his calm and humility a testament to the respect he held for fans. His humility amazed me—a player of his stature, treating a fan as if they mattered.

The memories from that evening are some of my most cherished, not just because I met these players but because I glimpsed a side of them that transcended their on-field personas. Each encounter reminded me that cricket is as much about humility, respect, and connection as it is about skill and triumph. Though the Asia Cup of that year ended with the heartbreak of a narrow loss for Bangladesh, it left me with memories that I will carry with me forever. And while this year I couldn’t recreate the experience, the lessons of that night remain clear: cricket is not just a game; it’s a shared language, bridging cultures, and bringing together hearts.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

 

The Art of Mystique: Saeed Ajmal and the spellbinding science of spin

Cricket is a game of many layers—part strategy, part execution, and part spectacle. Yet, somewhere between the swirling dust of Indian pitches and the greenness of English turf, it offers something rare: mystery. While football dazzles with skill, athletics with raw speed, and tennis with relentless power, cricket alone births practitioners of intrigue. These are not the pacemen who hurl thunderbolts nor batters who carve sixes into the stands, but spinners—students of deception, architects of illusions. And at the heart of this mystique stands one figure: Saeed Ajmal, the magician from Faisalabad. 

Ajmal approaches the crease like a performer taking centre stage with a gleaming smile that conceals more than it reveals. There’s a deliberate pause, as though inviting the batter into a labyrinth where no two exits are the same. And then, with a flick of his forearm, the ball leaves his hand—not as a weapon of sheer velocity but as a riddle wrapped in spin. One delivery will vanish into the batter’s imagination, leaving them in disbelief.

The next, propelled by subtle pace and flight, zips past with surgical precision. Another promises a sharp turn but betrays no deviation, trapping even the most experienced batters in webs of anticipation and regret. 

Unlike conventional bowlers who rely on linear logic, Ajmal operates in the realm of ambiguity. His deliveries—like uncharted verses—blend rhythm with unpredictability. After each one, he smiles, a gentle but knowing grin, as if to remind us that the greatest secrets lie in the unsaid. 

A Revival of the Lost Art 

The spinner’s craft has always been the most enigmatic arm of cricket’s arsenal. While off-spinners have produced legends like Muttiah Muralitharan and Saqlain Mushtaq, it is often the leg-spinners—Warne, Qadir, and Kumble—who capture the imagination of cricket romantics. Leg-spin carries an air of artistry: flamboyant, almost operatic in its execution. Off-spin, by contrast, is understated, functional, yet fiercely effective. But after Murali and Saqlain stepped off the international stage, a void remained—off-spin receded into the shadows, seemingly outshined by faster, louder forms of the game. 

Enter Ajmal. From the streets of Faisalabad to the world’s grandest arenas, he emerged not as a scholar of the sport but as an artisan. His weapons were forged on rough pitches of gravel and concrete, far removed from cricketing academies. Yet these humble beginnings cultivated an unorthodox mastery that few could decipher. He did not merely bowl the off-spinner’s bread-and-butter deliveries; he introduced variety, creating new dimensions within the same repertoire. 

Ajmal’s genius lies in his ability to disguise the doosra—that notorious delivery which turns the other way—with an unchanged line and angle. Where most bowlers telegraph the shift in direction, Ajmal lures batters into a false sense of security by maintaining the same off-stump line. The batter is forced to make decisions on instinct, and by the time they realize the ball has betrayed them, it is too late. 

But his teesra —a ball that does not turn when it appears it should—elevates his bowling into the realm of sorcery. A simple delivery, yet devastating in its psychological impact, it leaves even seasoned batters like England’s Alastair Cook or Australia’s Michael Clarke bemused. In Ajmal’s hands, cricket becomes a game of perception, of mirages that tempt and deceive. 

More Than Just Statistics 

Cricket’s statistics-heavy culture struggles to accommodate such ethereal brilliance. How do you measure deception? How do you quantify the anxiety Ajmal induces in the minds of batters before they even face him? The essence of Saeed Ajmal cannot be confined to trophies or figures. He is a phenomenon beyond numbers—a reminder that sport is not merely about outcomes but about the thrill of unpredictability. 

Like Murali before him, Ajmal demonstrates that unorthodoxy is not the enemy of greatness. The very essence of spin bowling lies in breaking conventions. Ajmal, like his mentor Saqlain Mushtaq, is a streetwise genius. His brilliance was not honed in academies but in the chaos of informal games, where every delivery was an experiment and every wicket a lesson. And on the biggest stage, those experiments evolved into lethal artistry. 

The Joy of Magic in the Age of Monotony 

Modern T20 cricket often indulges the power of the bat. It is a format obsessed with boundaries, where sixes are the currency of entertainment. But therein lies a danger—too many fireworks can exhaust the senses, reducing the game to a monotonous spectacle of brute force. Amid this chaos, Saeed Ajmal provides a necessary antidote. His spellbinding variations are a reminder that the soul of cricket lies not only in raw aggression but also in subtle finesse. Some magic, he seemed to say, lies in making the batters dance to unseen rhythms, in forcing them to think, doubt, and misjudge. 

In an era where speed and power dominate, Ajmal stands as a champion of the arcane—proof that cricket’s charm lies not just in spectacle but also in subtlety. His every delivery whispers a truth: that the game is richer with the presence of magicians, those who challenge the ordinary and remind us that mastery can come from the most unorthodox of paths. 

So, as the world marvels at sixes that fly into the stands, Ajmal reminds us to look closer. Magic is not always loud—it can be quiet, hidden in the space between bat and pad, waiting to unfold with a simple smile. And with every over he bowls, Saeed Ajmal ensures that cricket’s legacy of mystery remains intact.

Thank You

Faisal caesar 

England’s Asian Undoing: A Tale of Hubris, Missteps, and Pakistan’s Renaissance

England entered the third day in Dubai with the optimism of a champion side, convinced they had clawed back enough ground to stage a recovery worthy of their world No. 1 ranking. By the close, however, they stood exposed—demoralised, dismantled, and dismissed with a haunting familiarity reminiscent of their Asian nightmares of the past. Pakistan, disciplined and resurgent, needed just 15 runs to seal a ten-wicket victory.

This was not simply a defeat; it was a dissection.

The Collapse of an Empire

England’s batting unravelled twice in under 60 overs, not by chance but by the steady application of pressure. Umar Gul, sharp and probing, tore through the top order, claiming four wickets. Saeed Ajmal, all guile and invention, collected a remarkable 10-for in the match. Together they exposed the psychological fragility of England’s batting and laid bare an inconvenient truth: for all their dominance in recent years, England remain inept in Asian conditions.

The misery was compounded by the personal failings of the stalwarts. Andrew Strauss, the captain, continues his slide into a crisis of form. Kevin Pietersen perished to his familiar recklessness, undone once again before scoring. Ian Bell, repeatedly hypnotised by Ajmal’s doosra, looked like a man who had forgotten how to read spin. Each failure wasn’t just an individual lapse; it was a symptom of a wider malaise.

Strauss’ Regal Rebellion

Strauss’ dismissal before lunch—caught down the leg side off Gul—encapsulated England’s unease. The captain, usually stoic, betrayed his frustration with a sequence of headshakes as if royalty were dissenting against its own court. Technology offered no rescue. Hot Spot was inconclusive, the DRS inconclusive, and so Strauss was forced to exit with the air of a man betrayed by fate rather than his own flaws.

That regal indignation could not conceal the fragility at the heart of England’s batting. Pietersen’s impetuous hook, Bell’s befuddlement, and even Trott’s eventual lapse after two hours of resistance all painted a picture of a team psychologically outmanoeuvred.

Pakistan’s Masterclass in Discipline

For Pakistan, this victory was more than numbers on a scorecard—it was validation. Misbah-ul-Haq, their unflappable commander, ran his side like a disciplined battalion. Where once Pakistan thrived on volatility and drama, now they found strength in unity and restraint.

Ajmal was the magician at the centre, conjuring dismissals with turn, flight, and deception, while Gul and Abdur Rehman played their supporting roles with precision. Even with the Decision Review System occasionally failing him, Ajmal’s supremacy was never in doubt.

Pakistan’s batting, though short of individual brilliance, showed a newfound collective grit. Adnan Akmal’s spirited 61 was symbolic of a side that refuses to fold. No longer brittle, Pakistan’s line-up displayed the patience and tenacity that Misbah has instilled—a stark contrast to the extravagance and chaos of the past.

England’s Myopia, Pakistan’s Redemption

England arrived in Dubai speaking of flat pitches, tipped too heavily in favour of batsmen. By the end of this match, that narrative lay in ruins. The surface was fair; it was England who faltered.

What we witnessed was not merely Pakistan beating England—it was Pakistan reasserting themselves in the cricketing order. The spectre of the 2010 spot-fixing scandal still lingers, but Misbah’s men are writing a redemptive script. This was their chance to prove their progress against the best in the world, and they seized it.

The Theatre of Empty Seats

The irony of this Test was stark: one of Pakistan’s most emphatic victories in recent memory played out before a sparse crowd in Dubai. Yet, in the digital echo chambers of Twitter and Facebook, the jubilation rang far louder than the near-empty stands. It was, in many ways, a quintessentially modern victory—witnessed not in person but shared across the globe in a chorus of triumphant posts.

A Fortress Rising in the Desert

Pakistan’s triumph was about more than wickets and runs. It was about renewal. With Ajmal’s sorcery, Misbah’s stoicism, and the team’s collective steel, Pakistan are turning their Middle Eastern exile into a fortress as daunting as Karachi once was.

For England, the challenge is existential. Their supremacy depends on mastering conditions beyond their comfort zone. This humiliation in Dubai is a reminder that world dominance cannot be claimed without conquering the East.

In the end, Pakistan’s ten-wicket victory was not only a cricketing triumph but also a cultural one—a declaration that from the ashes of scandal, discipline and unity can forge greatness. For all its poignancy, this victory will endure as one of Pakistan’s finest chapters, and as a cautionary tale for England: in Asia, reputation counts for little, resilience for everything.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar