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

Setting the Stage

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

Bangladesh’s Faltering Beginnings

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

Pakistan’s Batting Masterclass

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

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

The Bowling Symphony: Spin and Pace in Concert

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

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

 Records and Rarities

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

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

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

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

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

A Match Shadowed by Tragedy

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

Lessons and Legacies

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

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

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

Clash of The Titans at Bangalore 2005: Pakistan’s Redemption and India’s Heartbreak

There are defeats, and then there are heartbreaks—the kind that linger long after the last ball has been bowled. In Bangalore, India’s aspirations of a historic series victory over Pakistan unravelled in the dying overs of an enthralling contest, leaving behind an empty feeling that resonated through the dressing room, the stands, and the nation beyond. 

Sourav Ganguly stood on the precipice of history, poised to become the first Indian captain to clinch back-to-back Test series against Pakistan. Instead, he walked off to the cruellest of ovations—boos from a crowd that had expected glory but witnessed the collapse. For all the dominance India had displayed through the series, it was Pakistan who stood triumphant, their charged-up young brigade seizing a win that seemed improbable at the start of the day. 

John Wright, India’s coach, voiced the silent anguish of millions: 

"This was a series that got away." 

For Pakistan, it was a resurrection. For India, it was a ghost that would haunt them for years. 

The Toss That Changed Everything

For the first time in the series, luck smiled upon Inzamam-ul-Haq. The toss—so often an afterthought—proved pivotal. On a pitch that offered early ease and late treachery, Pakistan had the luxury of batting first. 

But early jitters threatened to squander the advantage. Pakistan’s fifth different opening pair in five Tests barely lasted three overs. At 7 for 2, India’s bowlers had the scent of blood. Enter Younis Khan and Inzamam, a pair forged in experience and crisis. 

Inzamam batted not just for runs, but for survival—his own as captain, and his team’s as a force to be reckoned with. At the other end, Younis Khan played the perfect anchor. They did not merely rebuild; they demolished India’s bowling resolve. From the wreckage of 7 for 2, they forged an astonishing stand of 331. 

It was a partnership of contrasts. Younis, the straight man, accumulating with precision; Inzamam, the punchline master, peppering the boundary with effortless power. His 100th Test match became a personal landmark as he joined the elite club of centurions in milestone games—Colin Cowdrey, Gordon Greenidge, Javed Miandad, and Alec Stewart. 

By the time Inzamam fell, Younis had shed his restraint, driving onwards to a monumental 267—his highest first-class score and the greatest by a visiting batsman on Indian soil. In a marathon of 504 deliveries, he struck 32 fours and a towering six off Harbhajan Singh, sprinting between the wickets as if untouched by the oppressive Bangalore heat. 

For a man whose place had been uncertain at the start of the tour, Younis had now become Pakistan’s most indispensable batsman. His philosophy was simple: 

"I have never played with fear. If I get dropped tomorrow, I will go and play cricket somewhere else, and continue to enjoy it."

It was the attitude of a man who knew that cricket, like life, offered no guarantees—only opportunities to seize. 

Sehwag’s Roar and India’s Falter

If Younis had written an epic, Virender Sehwag responded with a rock anthem. The crowd, deflated by Pakistan’s dominance, erupted as he launched a breathtaking counterattack. 

There was no half-measure in Sehwag’s approach—Kaneria was lifted into the stands twice, the boundaries flowed relentlessly, and in just 262 balls, he stormed to a double century, his second of the series. He crossed 3,000 Test runs in just 55 innings, an Indian record, and for a fleeting moment, India’s dream remained intact. 

Yet, his brilliance was a lone star in an otherwise overcast sky. Support was patchy—Laxman reached fifty, but the rest faltered against Kaneria’s persistence. A 121-run lead handed Pakistan the edge. 

And then, the storm returned. 

Afridi’s Fire and a Chase That Crumbled

If Sehwag’s innings had been a defiance, Shahid Afridi’s was a declaration of war. 

He strode to the crease on the fourth afternoon and, within minutes, turned the Test match on its head. In a whirlwind 34-ball stay, he bludgeoned 58 runs, reaching his fifty in just 26 deliveries—only two balls slower than Jacques Kallis’ all-time Test record. 

His assault was brief but brutal. The Indian bowlers, already wearied, watched helplessly as the scoreboard rocketed forward. Then, just as suddenly as he had arrived, Afridi was gone. But the damage had been done. 

Younis, now the orchestrator, guided Pakistan’s innings to a declaration at 382 ahead. The equation was set: India needed 358 on the final day at an asking rate of nearly four an over. 

Hope flickered while Sehwag remained. India ticked along at 3.67 an over, and for a while, it seemed that something magical might unfold. But in a cruel twist, he was run out, and the wheels came off. 

A team that boasted one of the most explosive middle orders in world cricket did not counterattack. Instead, they dug in—but all they managed to dig was a tunnel with no exit. 

A Captain’s Fall and a Crowd’s Fury

As the tension mounted, Afridi returned—not with the bat, but with the ball. His golden arm dismissed Laxman and Tendulkar, the latter having just surpassed Sunil Gavaskar as India’s highest Test run-scorer. 

And then came the moment that encapsulated an era’s end. Ganguly, a captain once defined by defiance, was bowled through the gate. His stunned expression—one of disbelief, resignation, and silent agony—mirrored a career at the crossroads. 

By the final session, India had abandoned victory and clung desperately to survival. Anil Kumble, the warrior, held firm, but when Balaji misjudged a Kaneria delivery and padded up, the contest was over. 

The boos rang out, not for Pakistan’s triumph, but for India’s surrender. 

The Weight of Defeat and Pakistan’s Resurgence 

For India, the series that had seemed theirs had slipped through their fingers. The crowd, once jubilant, stood in muted shock. 

John Wright’s words hung in the air: "This was a series that got away."

For Pakistan, this was more than just a win—it was salvation. Inzamam, whose captaincy had been under siege, earned himself a momentary reprieve. Bob Woolmer, whose tenure had been marred by five losses in seven Tests, finally had his breakthrough. 

The victory came at a cost—Inzamam’s overzealous appeal earned him a one-match suspension—but it hardly mattered. Pakistan had travelled to India as a team in transition and departed as a team reborn. 

In the end, this was not just a Test match; it was a story of fate and fragility, of fire and failure, of a team that seized its moment and another that let it slip. 

For Pakistan, a page had turned. 

For India, a chapter had closed.

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 

The Once-in-a-Generation Fighters: Younis Khan and Misbah-ul-Haq

The passage of time is a curious thing. In what feels like the blink of an eye, seventeen years have slipped away since the turn of the millennium. The year 2000 seems almost like yesterday, yet it is distant enough to be marked by a profound sense of nostalgia. I remember, vividly, being bedridden with chickenpox and jaundice while Pakistan was engaged in a three-match Test series against Sri Lanka. Amidst the uncertainty of illness, a fresh face emerged on the cricketing stage—Younis Khan. His debut hundred, like so many before him, promised the arrival of a new hero. But the following years were marked by inconsistency and harsh criticism. It seemed as though Younis might join the long list of promising players whose careers fizzled out too soon: Basit Ali, Ali Naqvi, Salim Elahi, Yasir Hameed, and Taufiq Umar, to name a few.

Yet, in the third Test at Bengaluru, something changed. Younis Khan, now more mature and wiser, showcased a transformation. His hunger for runs was palpable, his temperament steely. A double century and a half-century not only secured his place in the team but also marked the moment when his career found its true calling. This was not the story of a fleeting talent, but of a man who had found his resolve—his ability to rise to the occasion had been tested, and he had passed with flying colours. Bob Woolmer, who had placed his faith in Younis time and again, must have breathed a sigh of relief.

The Journey of Younis Khan: From Criticism to Greatness

Younis Khan’s journey was never one of effortless flair like Mohammad Yousuf or Zaheer Abbas, but it was one of indomitable grit and unyielding resolve. While others may have dazzled with their elegance, Younis stood firm as the cornerstone of Pakistan’s batting line-up, particularly at number three. It is a role that, in the context of Pakistan's cricketing history, demands not only technical proficiency but also immense mental fortitude.

Despite the challenges, and despite his critics, Younis Khan’s ability to adapt and thrive in the harshest of conditions was unparalleled. In the decade that followed, his ability to score runs against the world’s best bowling attacks, in varying conditions, made him a legend. Some might argue that Younis was not as aesthetically pleasing as some of his contemporaries, but for me, there is little doubt: Younis Khan was Pakistan’s greatest number three batsman. He rose above the collective doubts and defied the odds, earning not only runs but also respect—something more difficult to acquire in the harsh world of international cricket.

In his 17 years at the international level, Younis endured what few could. He faced personal and professional adversity, but in the end, it was his resilience and sheer will that defined his legacy. He emerged from the wilderness time and again, often when few believed in him. And for that, he deserves the admiration he so often eluded in his playing days. As a cricketer, he was a survivor, a fighter—someone who exemplified the grit that Pakistan cricket needed, even when it seemed like he was destined for an early exit.

Misbah-ul-Haq: From Doubt to Legacy

Misbah-ul-Haq's story is one of profound transformation. I remember first encountering him in a tri-nation series in Kenya, where he batted with a quiet, unremarkable style. At that time, Misbah’s technique, though sound, lacked the flair and aggression that had defined Pakistan cricket in the past. When he faced Bangladesh at Multan, I was certain he would be dismissed quickly, as our bowlers were in top form. But as fate would have it, he was selected ahead of Mohammad Yousuf for the inaugural World T20 in 2007, a decision I found inexplicable. Misbah, then, had little to offer the game. His failure to win crucial matches, coupled with his infamous scoop shot in Johannesburg, left him with a reputation that barely survived the passing of time.

The selection of Misbah as captain in the aftermath of the 2010 spot-fixing scandal seemed to many like a symbolic gesture—a last-ditch effort to salvage some semblance of order. I, like many others, thought the worst was yet to come. With Pakistan cricket in disarray, Misbah’s calm, methodical style seemed ill-suited for the chaos around him. But what followed was nothing short of remarkable.

Misbah’s Leadership: A Testament to Stability

Tactically, Misbah was no Imran Khan or Wasim Akram. His methods were not aggressive or revolutionary, nor did he possess the same flair as his predecessors. Yet, what he lacked in boldness, he made up for with a sense of calm that was desperately needed at a time when Pakistan cricket was teetering on the brink. Misbah’s leadership was not built on the daring strokes of brilliance, but on the principle of stability—of keeping things simple, of allowing the game to unfold at its own pace. He was not one to engage in a battle of wits with the opposition captain; instead, he sought to keep his team grounded, ensuring they didn’t stray too far from the path of discipline.

Misbah’s tenure as captain, despite my early reservations, proved to be highly successful. His leadership during Pakistan’s Test victories, especially the series win in the UAE and the revival of Pakistan cricket’s reputation, cemented his place as one of the most successful captains in Pakistan’s history. His ability to instill confidence in a team broken by scandal and disappointment was his true legacy. While I may never have been a fan of Misbah’s batting or captaincy style, I have come to admire the strength it took for him to emerge from the wilderness and lead Pakistan at a time when the team needed a steady hand.

The Journey of Two Unlikely Heroes

Younis Khan and Misbah-ul-Haq’s stories are not those of extravagant heroes or momentary flashes of brilliance. They are the stories of men who, against the odds, carved out legacies that few could have foreseen. Both players spent much of their careers fighting for survival in the volatile world of international cricket. Neither had the explosive talent or the extravagant technique that often defines cricketing immortality, yet both transcended the limitations placed upon them. Younis, with his gritty determination and insatiable hunger for runs; Misbah, with his unshakable resolve and quiet leadership.

In the end, the career of Younis Khan will be remembered for his ability to defy expectations, to rise from the ashes when it seemed his time was up. Misbah-ul-Haq, though never the flamboyant leader, will be remembered for bringing stability to a fractured side, and for leading Pakistan through one of its most turbulent periods.

As these two soldiers bow out of international cricket, they leave behind a legacy that is both complex and enduring. They were not the most glamorous of players, but their contributions to Pakistan cricket are undeniable. Their stories are not of easy victories or simple paths to success, but of perseverance, self-belief, and the relentless pursuit of excellence.

And for that, they will be missed.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar  

Pakistan's Elusive Quest for Success in Australia

 Australia: a land of unforgiving pitches, searing pace, and relentless opponents. Since Pakistan’s maiden tour in 1964, this battleground has remained an unconquered frontier for their Test side. While the initial visit under Hanif Mohammad’s leadership ended in a respectable draw, the narrative has since oscillated between brief flickers of brilliance and prolonged spells of despair.

Despite occasional heroics, Pakistan’s story Down Under is a sobering tale of missed opportunities, technical inadequacies, and mental frailties. For Misbah-ul-Haq’s men, the 2016 tour presented yet another chance to rewrite history—a chance to defy the odds and stake their claim in one of cricket’s most challenging arenas.

A Record Drenched in Disappointment

The statistics tell a stark story. Pakistan has won just four Test matches in Australia, the last of which came over two decades ago. The 1976-77 and 1978-79 tours stand out as exceptions, thanks to the charismatic all-round efforts of Imran Khan and Sarfraz Nawaz. Imran’s pace and leadership, combined with the positive batting of Majid Khan and Asif Iqbal, laid the foundation for competitive performances. However, such moments have been rare.

From the 1980s onward, Pakistan’s tours to Australia have been marred by inconsistency and capitulation. Even the generational talents of Wasim Akram, Waqar Younis, and Shoaib Akhtar failed to produce sustained brilliance on these shores. Five-wicket hauls came sporadically, but they were insufficient to turn the tide in Pakistan’s favor.

Limited-overs cricket has offered occasional solace, but Test matches—requiring discipline, patience, and endurance—have often exposed Pakistan’s vulnerabilities.

A Misstep in Preparation

Misbah-ul-Haq’s team entered the Australian tour on the back of a humbling defeat in New Zealand, a series that highlighted glaring deficiencies in temperament and strategy. Having scaled the summit of Test cricket after a historic victory at The Oval, Pakistan’s descent was swift and humiliating. The ultra-defensive approach adopted by their batsmen in New Zealand proved disastrous, stifling the scoring rate and creating untenable pressure on the middle and lower order.

This negative mindset stood in stark contrast to the template for success on Australian pitches. In Brisbane, Perth, and Melbourne, survival alone does not suffice; scoring opportunities must be created proactively. Loose balls are scarce, and the margin for error is slim. Success hinges on the ability to score off marginally overpitched or short deliveries—an art Pakistan’s batting lineup seemed to have forgotten.

Keys to Redemption

1. The Art of Positive Batting

Reflecting on Pakistan’s most successful tours to Australia, one common thread emerges: aggressive, confident batting. Majid Khan and Asif Iqbal’s positive intent in the 1970s set the tone for the team, ensuring competitive totals. On this tour, much depended on the seasoned duo of Younis Khan and Misbah-ul-Haq to anchor the innings and instil confidence in the younger players.

Yet, beyond Younis and Misbah, Pakistan’s batsmen needed to embrace a proactive mindset. Defensive techniques alone would not suffice on the pace-friendly tracks of the Gabba and MCG, where the bounce demands technical adaptability and mental resolve. The art of rotating the strike and punishing anything slightly off-line was critical to sustaining pressure on the Australian bowlers.

2. Bowling Discipline and Strategy

Pakistan’s bowling arsenal has historically been potent, but potency without precision has rarely yielded success in Australia. The likes of Mohammad Amir, Wahab Riaz, Rahat Ali, and Sohail Khan possess pace, yet they have often lacked the discipline required to consistently challenge top-order batsmen.

The formula for success Down Under is straightforward yet demanding: bowl six out of six deliveries on a testing length, short enough to prevent batsmen from comfortably coming forward, yet full enough to extract movement. Swing, seam, or cut—whichever weapon a bowler possesses—must be utilized with unerring accuracy.

Equally crucial was the role of Yasir Shah, Pakistan’s ace spinner. On Australian pitches, where bounce and drift can amplify a spinner’s effectiveness, Yasir needed to replicate the success of Mushtaq Ahmed in the 1990s. Misbah’s task was to pair Yasir with the right pacers, ensuring relentless pressure from both ends.

3. Catching and Fielding

No team can win in Australia without sharp fielding, especially in the slip cordon. In past tours, Pakistan’s inability to capitalize on the chances created by their bowlers has cost them dearly. For Misbah’s side, every dropped catch was a missed opportunity to wrest control from the Australians.

Fielding, often derided as Pakistan’s Achilles’ heel, required a cultural shift—an acknowledgement that sharpness in the field is as critical as brilliance with bat or ball.

The Psychological Battle

Perhaps the most formidable challenge for Pakistan in Australia has been psychological. Facing a team renowned for its ruthlessness and unrelenting aggression, Pakistan’s players often appear intimidated, retreating into their shells. Misbah, a paragon of calm and resilience, understood the importance of instilling self-belief in his team.

Australia’s defeat to South Africa earlier in the season presented a rare opportunity. Vulnerabilities had been exposed, and Steve Smith’s men, though dangerous, were not invincible. However, capitalizing on such opportunities required Pakistan to shed its inferiority complex and play with unshakable resolve.

Conclusion

For Pakistan, success in Australia remains a tantalizing, elusive goal. Misbah-ul-Haq’s tenure has been defined by the pursuit of respectability and redemption for a team long overshadowed by its own inconsistencies. A series victory in Australia would have been the crowning achievement of his captaincy—a testament to the resilience and growth of Pakistan cricket.

But achieving such a feat demanded more than tactical adjustments; it required a cultural shift. Discipline, positivity, and fearlessness had to replace the tentativeness and fatalism that so often plagued Pakistan’s tours Down Under. Only then could the men in green hope to turn dreams into reality and reclaim their place among cricket’s elite.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

Composure Under Fire: How Pakistan Succumbed to Wagner’s Wrath

When Kane Williamson won the toss at Hagley Oval, it was a moment of quiet triumph. After enduring a streak of bad luck during the Test series against India, he finally got a chance to dictate terms. The conditions, ripe for swing and seam, made bowling first an obvious choice, and New Zealand’s pacers wasted no time in exploiting the opportunity. 

A Debut to Remember 

Tim Southee and Trent Boult, New Zealand’s trusted new-ball pair, began with probing lines and lengths, testing Sami Aslam and Azhar Ali’s technique. But it was the introduction of debutant Colin de Grandhomme that swung the game decisively. Utilizing a three-quarter length to perfection, de Grandhomme extracted movement that the Pakistani batsmen found unplayable. 

From a steady 31 for no loss, Pakistan imploded to 88 for 5, eventually folding for a paltry 133. Yet, the contest remained alive as Pakistan’s bowlers responded with equal venom, reducing New Zealand to 200, despite the dogged resistance of Jeet Raval and Henry Nicholls. 

With a lead of just 67, the match hung in the balance. As the pitch eased out by the third day, Pakistan had a golden opportunity to rewrite the script. 

A Chance at Redemption 

Azhar Ali and Babar Azam walked out with a clear mandate: bat time and nullify New Zealand’s advantage. They adhered to the time-honoured principles of Test batting, resisting the urge to chase runs and focusing instead on survival. Boundaries were forsaken for blocks and leaves, the scoring rate sacrificed at the altar of stability. 

Their stoic approach frustrated Williamson, who turned to Neil Wagner, his warrior of attrition, to break the deadlock. 

Wagner Unleashes Chaos 

Wagner’s name has become synonymous with relentless aggression. His short-pitched, ribcage-hunting deliveries are designed to unsettle even the most composed batsmen. Against Pakistan, he delivered a spell that will be etched in memory for its sheer ferocity and effectiveness. 

Babar Azam, having weathered so much, fell to a leg-side strangle—a lapse in judgment that he could ill afford. Azhar Ali, a picture of determination until then, also succumbed to Wagner’s unyielding attack. Younis Khan, the veteran, was undone by a sharp rising delivery, and his failure to drop his hands led to his downfall. 

Misbah-ul-Haq, Pakistan’s ever-reliable anchor, came in with the task of restoring order. Yet, in a moment uncharacteristic of his usual temperament, he attempted a hook shot that only compounded Pakistan’s misery. 

The Price of Panic 

In that fateful hour on Day 3, Pakistan’s batsmen lost the composure that had defined their earlier resistance. Wagner’s hostility was nothing new—teams like Sri Lanka and Australia had faced similar challenges in the past. The difference was in the response. Where others stood firm, Pakistan faltered, their mental fortitude crumbling under pressure. 

By the time the dust settled, Pakistan had squandered their chance to take control of the Test. New Zealand, buoyed by the collapse, cruised to an eight-wicket victory. 

Lessons from Hagley Oval 

Test cricket is as much a battle of the mind as it is of skill. On Day 3, Pakistan had the right idea—occupy the crease, wear down the bowlers, and stabilize their innings. Yet, the execution fell short. The inability to adapt to Wagner’s short-pitched barrage, coupled with lapses in concentration, turned a promising situation into a disaster. 

Misbah and his men must now look to Hamilton with a renewed sense of purpose. Composure and discipline will be key if they are to bounce back and level the series. Hagley Oval was a lesson in the cost of mental fragility. Hamilton offers a chance for redemption. 

Final Thoughts 

For New Zealand, this Test was a testament to the brilliance of their bowlers and the astute leadership of Kane Williamson. For Pakistan, it was a sobering reminder that moments of brilliance must be matched by sustained resilience. As the series moves forward, the question remains: can Pakistan learn from their mistakes and reclaim their footing?

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

Pakistan’s special turnaround at The Oval

If the defeat at Manchester was vexatious, then the defeat at Edgbaston was hard to digest as at one point, Pakistan were in a very commanding position. But the Pakistanis, let the match slip out of their hands, and thus, before the start of the fourth Test match at The Oval, the mood in the Pakistan camp was downcast. The Pakistan batting line-up had been irreconcilable at Manchester and Edgbaston, while the sloppy fielding and Yasir Shah’s struggle added extra worries for the Pakistani think-tank. Obviously, Pakistan were not expected to stun England and level the series.

Wahab Riaz’s fiery pace jolted the English batting line-up and when Garry Ballance was dismissed, England were reeling at 110 for 5.

But Moeen Ali and Jonny Bairstow took the game away from Pakistan on day 1. Both of them were the beneficiaries of key reprieves early in their innings, which left Pakistan to rue and another partnership between Moeen and Chris Woakes floored Pakistan and, it seemed, they won’t be able to make a comeback after the Moeen-Bairstow-Woakes show.

At stumps, Pakistan were 3 for 1 and the critics were expecting yet another inauspicious display from the Pakistani batsmen on a track that was offering plenty of assistance for the pace bowlers. But the first hour of the second day changed the complexion of the match and put Pakistan in a commendable position.

Yasir Shah’s brilliant resistance in the first hour of day 2 set the tempo for Pakistan

Against the top teams of the world, the first session of a Test match, especially, the first hour of play, always matters. The Pakistan think-tank sent Yasir Shah as the nightwatchman and the kind of form the Pakistani tailenders had been throughout the series, Yasir was supposed to be an easy wicket. Now, an early loss of a wicket in the first hour of play automatically puts enormous pressure on the batting line-up which is struggling to get out of the lean patch. But the decision to send Yasir as the nightwatchman proved to be a masterstroke.

For one hour, Yasir weather storm of Stuart Broad and James Anderson efficiently and scored a valuable 26 runs, which not only started the day for Pakistan brightly but gave them the momentum which was much needed.

Asad Shafiq’s promotion up the order reaped a rich harvest

At the other end, Azhar Ali kept on going and never let the momentum shift in favor of England and stitched a 75-run stand with Asad Shafiq who was batting at number 4 instead of 6. Shafiq had been another customer who was found wanting in the previous two Test matches and the decision to send him at number four was not a gamble, but a well-thought one as this position suits his style very much and struck a wonderful hundred to strengthen Pakistan’s authority over the Test match.

Never dare to write off veteran Younis Khan

Shafiq’s departure left a huge responsibility on Younis Khan to carry on the momentum and bat England out of the game. In the previous three Test matches, Younis Khan’s dance at the crease and poor shot selection had been criticized, but at The Oval, he was in a different zone. He played the ball late, went behind the ball, and used his feet masterfully to essay yet another comeback innings. Younis Khan scripted a brilliant 218 which bolstered Pakistan’s innings big time and shut the mouth of those critics who had written off Younis a million times.

Mohammad Amir’s resistance with the bat

Throughout the Test match, the Pakistani tail was reluctant to fight and this hurt Pakistan badly at Edgbaston. But at The Oval, the Pakistani tailenders decided to change the mood and dished out a stubborn resistance which surely had made Hanif Mohammad proud in heaven.

After Yasir Shah, Mohammad Amir showed his capabilities with the bat. He defended so well and his calm presence at the crease provided the perfect foil to Younis’ composure who could not have scored his double ton had he not received support from Amir. Both Amir and Younis stitched a partnership of 117 runs for the ninth wicket and the game was almost over for England.

Set an attacking field to encourage the bowlers

Misbah-ul-Haq’s field setting had been the subject of criticism in the previous three Test matches, but he got things right as soon as England’s second innings started. Misbah maneuvered the field very well and hardly was in a defensive mode. In the last session of day 3, he engaged three slips, a leg slip, a catching man at short mid-off and short leg for Amir, and crowed the fielders around the bat while Yasir was bowling.

Such a fieldset, motivated the bowlers to bowl with aggressive intent, and immediately England were four down at the stumps on day 3.

Yasir Shah loves to bowl in London

Misbah’s attacking mindset didn’t change on day 4 and he kept on attacking with his premium bowler Yasir Shah. Yasir changed his game-plan a bit – he varied his pace a lot and the quicker ones hit the deck without turning and hit the batsmen’s pad like a missile. His line of attack varied in between middle-and-off and middle stump and utilized the footmarks intelligently like Shane Warne to sink England.

Unpredictable Pakistan

It’s never easy to bounce back after digesting back-to-back humiliating defeats, but when the team is Pakistan; either you can expect them to script another comical show or an exhibition like the cornered Tigers.

The Pakistan team at The Oval were the cornered Tigers. It was a magnificent win and the perfect tribute to the late Hanif Mohammad.

Misbah-ul-Haq and his men worked very hard to gift his nation such a special turnaround on Independence Day.

Note: This article has been published at Cricketsoccer on 14/08/2016 Pakistan’s special turnaround at The Oval 

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

From Stalemate to Spectacle: The Unfolding Drama of the Abu Dhabi Test

 

The Abu Dhabi Test was destined to slip quietly into the archive of dull matches—a storybook four-day draw marked by predictable run-scoring on a desolate pitch. The heat in Abu Dhabi bore down heavily on the players, the track as lifeless as a desert road, but cricket has a way of twisting plots when least expected. And with Pakistan at the crease, the final act of this seemingly banal Test took a dramatic, chaotic turn. 

Pakistan’s first innings laid a flat foundation. Shoaib Malik’s comeback century was commendable, Alastair Cook’s landmark double ton remarkable, but the sheer tedium of an unyielding track cast a shadow over individual feats. The bowlers—both Pakistani and English—labored under the relentless sun, unable to find any ally in the pitch, and a listless draw loomed. Four-and-a-half days of sleep-inducing cricket gave no hint of the whirlwind that would soon descend.

The unpredictable nature of the game shone through on the final day. Pakistan’s second innings took a disastrous turn, hinting that the game might indeed have some final twist left. It was England’s captain, Alastair Cook, who struck the first spark. The scoreboard read 47 for 3 after some shaky shots from Pakistan’s top order, with Shan Masood falling early to an innocuous ball rolling into his stumps and Shoaib Malik flummoxed by an uncharacteristically fierce bouncer from Anderson. England’s bowling, until then rendered ineffective, began to find new life as Cook’s imaginative field placements unsettled Pakistan’s batsmen. 

Cook's tactical play drew the battle lines for an impending implosion. He placed an aggressive, umbrella field on the leg side and instructed his bowlers to test Pakistan with sharp inswingers and deceptive off-cutters, coupled with the occasional outswinger to keep them guessing. Anderson and company hounded Misbah and Younis, Pakistan’s most experienced heads, building pressure with every over. By tea, Pakistan sat tentatively at 102 for 3, Misbah and Younis steadying the ship but aware of the growing tension.

The storm after tea revealed just how fragile Pakistan’s position had become. The pitch, which had played dead for days, began to turn, encouraging Cook to call upon his spinners, Moeen Ali and Adil Rashid, with an attacking field. Adil Rashid, who had been punished with figures of 0 for 163 in the first innings, finally found the pitch's assistance and, perhaps emboldened by Cook’s faith, proceeded to carve through Pakistan’s batting order. Moeen was effective, but it was Rashid’s day to shine. He exploited Pakistan’s hesitant footwork with relentless turn, taking five wickets in what would become a legendary spell for the young leg-spinner.

Pakistan’s batsmen, underestimating Rashid’s threat, crumbled. Younis fell to an ill-advised shot, and Misbah, uncharacteristically aggressive, met a swift end to Moeen Ali. A startling collapse followed, with Pakistan losing seven wickets for a meager 60 runs, the last five of those wickets falling for just 14 runs in a rapid 30-ball meltdown. Rashid, as effective as he was, could thank the erratic Pakistani batsmen who gifted him their wickets with reckless strokes.

With a meagre target of 99, England were on the brink of one of the most remarkable Test wins in recent memory. The scenario was reminiscent of Pakistan’s infamous collapse in the 2000 Karachi Test when England clinched an unexpected series victory on foreign soil. Joe Root, Jonny Bairstow, and Jos Buttler—batting with urgency and skill—brought England to within 25 runs of triumph. But the fading light, much as it had done the previous evening, intervened, halting play and denying England the final glory.

Just sixteen wickets had fallen over the first four days; eleven would fall in the frenzied final session alone. It was a reminder that Test cricket, however monotonous it may seem, harbours the spirit of the unexpected, waiting to erupt into drama. Pakistan escaped defeat, but the warning bells were loud. This English side, spirited and disciplined under Cook’s innovative captaincy, was no repeat of 2012. England were dangerous, hungry, and willing to fight with every ounce of tenacity. If Pakistan doesn’t tread carefully, this series may turn in England’s favour before they can recalibrate.

In the end, the Test match was no longer a tedious draw but a testament to cricket’s unpredictability, its ability to blend endurance with moments of fierce drama.

 
Thank You

Faisal Caesar

Younis Khan and the Burden of Being Unbeautiful

  In the early 2000s, Pakistani cricket still believed in romance. It believed that batting was an act of beauty before it was an act of survival. The nation’s imagination was shaped by cover drives that lingered in the air, wrists that seemed to bend time, and batsmen who looked born, not built. The elegance of Mohammad Yousuf (then Yousuf Youhana), the audacity of Imran Nazir, and the lingering ghosts of Zaheer Abbas and Saeed Anwar defined what Pakistan wanted its heroes to look like.

Into this aesthetic ecosystem walked Younis Khan, and he did not belong.

He was awkward where Pakistan preferred elegance, rigid where it sought fluidity, uncertain where it demanded instinct. His backlift rose from improbable angles, his footwork often appeared hesitant, and his defensive technique offended the purists. To a cricketing culture that valued poetry, Younis wrote in prose functional, dense, and unadorned. He was not hated; he was worse. He was misunderstood.

And in Pakistan, misunderstanding is often more damaging than failure.

A Nation’s Bias: Why Younis Was Never Loved Early

Pakistan does not merely watch cricket, it aestheticises it. Batsmen are judged not only by runs but by how those runs are scored. A loose drive forgiven for its beauty; an ungainly block questioned for its intent. Younis, in this context, was burdened from the start. His innings rarely flowed. His runs did not come in bursts that lifted crowds. They accumulated slowly, stubbornly, without spectacle.

Early failures compounded the problem. He did not arrive fully formed, nor did he immediately justify his place with defining performances. Critics labelled him technically deficient, temperamentally uncertain, a stopgap rather than a solution. Even neutral observers sensed a collective impatience when he walked to the crease—an unspoken question hovering: Why him?

What Pakistan missed was that Younis was not auditioning for admiration. He was preparing for endurance.

The Shift: From Aesthetic Failure to Existential Strength

Younis Khan did not reinvent his technique; he reinvented his relevance.

The turning point in his career was not a stylistic transformation but a psychological consolidation. As others chased fluency, Younis learned control. As batting became increasingly aggressive, he mastered resistance. Over time, he evolved into something Pakistan had rarely celebrated but desperately needed: a batsman for collapse, crisis, and consequence.

Nowhere was this clearer than in the fourth innings of Test matches—the most unforgiving arena for a batsman. Chasing targets with deteriorating pitches, mounting pressure, and the weight of inevitability, Younis did not just survive; he dominated. Five fourth-innings centuries. An average above 57. A body of work that places him among the greatest pressure batsmen the format has known.

The 2015 run chase in Sri Lanka was not merely a victory; it was a thesis statement. It announced that this ungainly batsman, once tolerated at best, was Pakistan’s most reliable last man standing.

Adversity as Architecture

Younis Khan’s greatness cannot be separated from his suffering. His career unfolded amid extraordinary personal and professional turbulence. The tragic death of Bob Woolmer, in which he was unfairly scrutinised. Internal politics that culminated in his suspension in 2010. The loss of close family members. Repeated exclusions, humiliations, and returns.

These were not footnotes; they were structural forces shaping his character.

Where others fractured, Younis hardened not into bitterness, but into resolve. Each setback refined his relationship with failure. He learned not to react to noise, not to internalise rejection, not to seek validation from applause. His was a self-sustaining belief system, forged in isolation.

This is why his success feels heavier than statistics. It was not inherited; it was earned repeatedly.

The Mind Over the Method

Technically, Younis Khan remained imperfect. Mentally, he was unassailable.

His career validates a central truth of elite sport: technique is a tool; temperament is the engine. As Rahul Dravid once noted, performance is the product of how effectively the mind deploys skill under stress. Younis embodied this principle. He adapted endlessly altering tempo, shot selection, risk appetite not because of instinct but because of clarity.

His numbers over 10,000 Test runs at 52, a triple century, leadership in Pakistan’s 2009 World T20 triumph are impressive. But numbers alone do not explain why Younis mattered. He mattered because he redefined what success could look like for Pakistan cricket: not beautiful, but unbreakable.

A Reluctant Icon for an Uncomfortable Truth

Younis Khan was never Pakistan’s idealised hero. He lacked Yousuf’s grace, Afridi’s electricity, Miandad’s streetwise genius. Yet he offered something more durable a blueprint for survival in chaos.

In a cricket culture seduced by brilliance, Younis forced a reckoning with endurance. He reminded Pakistan that greatness does not always announce itself with flair. Sometimes it arrives quietly, absorbs punishment, and outlasts everyone else.

His journey from ridicule to reverence, from aesthetic failure to moral authority is not merely a cricketing story. It is a lesson in persistence, in dignity under doubt, and in the power of refusing to disappear.

Younis Khan did not fit Pakistan’s dream of a batsman.

In the end, he became Pakistan’s conscience.

And that may be his greatest innings of all.

The Chase That Rewrote Pakistan’s Relationship With the Impossible

Every great Test run chase is remembered not for the runs scored, but for the fears conquered along the way. Pakistan’s pursuit of 377 in Sri Lanka was not merely a statistical landmark, their highest successful chase, the second highest in Asia, the sixth greatest in the history of Test cricket it was a confrontation with everything that traditionally undoes touring sides in the subcontinent: fifth-day attrition, spin-induced doubt, and the quiet tyranny of inevitability.

At the heart of this defiance stood Younis Khan, playing the innings that ultimately defined his legacy: an unbeaten 171 that blended technical adaptability with rare psychological sovereignty. This was not a chase built on bravado. It was built on patience, selective aggression, and an unwavering belief that history is not something to be respected—but something to be challenged.

Context Matters: Why This Chase Was Supposed to Fail

No visiting team had ever chased a target of this magnitude in Sri Lanka. The pitch had slowed, the outfield had dulled, and the match had been repeatedly interrupted by rain, creating stop-start rhythms that favour bowlers. Angelo Mathews’ century had pushed Sri Lanka’s lead to an imposing 376, and the narrative seemed complete even before Pakistan began.

When Pakistan slipped to 13 for 2, the story felt familiar. Early wickets. A hostile new ball. The sense that survival, not victory, should be the ambition. Yet Test cricket’s greatest reversals begin precisely at the point where resignation feels logical.

The Partnership That Changed the Geometry of the Chase

The defining axis of this match was the 242-run partnership between Younis and Shan Masood, the highest fourth-innings stand Pakistan have ever produced. That Masood, playing his first Test outside the UAE, contributed 125 is not a footnote; it is essential to understanding how this chase became possible.

Masood began nervously, squared up repeatedly by Dhammika Prasad and Suranga Lakmal. The short ball unsettled him. The scoreline weighed on him. But the pitch, slow and increasingly unresponsive, offered a quiet reprieve—and Sri Lanka’s decision to lean heavily on offspinner Tharindu Kaushal proved decisive. Loose lengths bled pressure. Full tosses were punished. The partnership grew not explosively, but inexorably.

What Younis provided Masood was not instruction, but reassurance. Singles were prioritised. Strike was rotated obsessively. Boundaries were treated as opportunities, not necessities. In fourth innings chases, momentum is not seized—it is permitted to develop.

Younis Khan and the Art of Controlled Defiance

Younis’ innings was a masterclass in contextual batting. Early on, he was conservative, content to absorb the seamers and target the weakest link. After tea on day four, he shifted gears not recklessly, but deliberately jumping across to the fast bowlers, threading gaps through cover, and refusing to let Sri Lanka reset their fields.

His century, brought up with a sweep, carried historical weight: it was his 30th Test hundred and made him the first player to score five centuries in fourth innings. More importantly, it reasserted a fundamental truth about elite batting: technique bends to mindset under pressure.

Younis did not dominate Sri Lanka’s bowlers; he outlasted them.

The Fifth Morning: When Belief Became Structure

By the final morning, Pakistan still needed 147. Masood fell early, stumped while searching for release, and Sri Lanka sensed one final opening. But this chase had moved beyond fragility. The arrival of Misbah-ul-Haq completed the architecture of resistance.

Misbah’s contribution an unbeaten 59 was vital precisely because of its discipline. Against the second new ball, he denied Sri Lanka oxygen, going 22 deliveries without scoring. After lunch, he expanded judiciously, targeting spin, sweeping with authority, and dismantling Kaushal’s already fragile confidence.

Sri Lanka’s fast bowlers tried valiantly with the new ball, but the pitch no longer obeyed them. Their spinners lacked control. Their captain shuffled options, but belief had quietly migrated to the visitors’ dressing room.

The winning blow, a Misbah six, was symbolic. This was the second time he had finished a historic chase against Sri Lanka. It felt less like a coincidence than a design.

Sri Lanka’s Missed Window

This was not a collapse by Sri Lanka; it was an erosion. Their seamers were disciplined but toothless once the ball softened. Their reliance on Kaushal over Rangana Herath proved costly. Opportunities, like the unsuccessful review against Younis on 128, passed without consequence.

Angelo Mathews’ leadership throughout the match was commendable, but even sound decisions cannot overcome the absence of control. In the fourth innings, pressure must be relentless. Sri Lanka allowed release valves, and Pakistan exploited everyone.

What This Chase Really Meant

Beyond the numbers, this victory carried structural significance. It delivered Pakistan their first Test series win in Sri Lanka since 2006. It lifted them to third in the ICC Test rankings. But more importantly, it rewired Pakistan’s relationship with the improbable.

For decades, Pakistan’s Test identity had oscillated between brilliance and collapse. This chase did something rarer: it normalised patience. It suggested that Pakistani batting could be methodical without being timid, resilient without being passive.

And at its centre stood Younis Khan, the least romantic of Pakistan’s great batsmen, yet perhaps the most consequential.

A Chase That Outgrew the Scoreboard

Every generation gets one innings that reframes expectations. Younis Khan’s 171 not out was not merely an act of skill; it was an argument. An argument that history is negotiable. That pressure is survivable. That aesthetics are optional, but resolve is not.

Pakistan did not just chase 377 in Sri Lanka.

They chased down their own doubts.

And that, more than any ranking or record, is what made this victory immortal.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

Bangladesh vs. Pakistan: A Tale of Contrasts and Lessons Learned

Pakistan’s tour of Bangladesh was a rollercoaster of emotions, characterized by the Tigers’ meteoric rise in the limited-overs formats and a sobering fall in the second Test. While the series began with Bangladesh’s dominance, culminating in an unforgettable *Banglawash* of Pakistan in the ODIs and a triumphant T20I performance, it concluded with a humbling defeat in the Mirpur Test. This narrative of highs and lows offers a rich tapestry for analysis, exposing both the progress and the vulnerabilities in Bangladesh’s cricketing journey. 

The Limited-Overs Masterclass 

The tour began with Pakistan’s confidence shaken, courtesy of an electrifying practice match performance by Sabbir Rahman in Fatullah. This set the stage for the main act, where Bangladesh dismantled Pakistan in the ODIs with a swagger rarely seen before. The Tigers’ bold, fearless brand of cricket shone brightly, rendering stalwarts like Shahid Afridi and Ahmed Shehzad mere spectators to their brilliance. 

This dominance spilt over into the T20I, where Bangladesh, brimming with confidence, outclassed their opponents yet again. The limited-overs leg of the tour was a testament to Bangladesh’s growth—a team unafraid to take risks, unshackled from past insecurities, and eager to assert itself on the global stage. 

The Khulna Test: A Gritty Comeback 

As the action shifted to the longer format, Pakistan appeared poised to wrest control. After dominating the first innings of the Khulna Test, it seemed only a matter of time before they claimed their first victory of the tour. However, the Tigers staged one of the most memorable comebacks in Test cricket. The monumental 312-run opening partnership between Tamim Iqbal and Imrul Kayes not only salvaged a draw but also demonstrated that this Bangladesh team had the mental fortitude to fight against the odds. 

The Khulna Test was not merely a drawn game; it was a moral victory, highlighting Bangladesh’s evolving resilience in Test cricket—a format where they have historically struggled to leave a mark. 

The Mirpur Test: Lessons in Defeat 

Riding high on their Khulna heroics, Bangladesh entered the Mirpur Test as favourites. Yet, cricket has a way of humbling even the most confident sides. A string of missteps, beginning with captain Mushfiqur Rahim’s decision to bat first on a grassy track, set the tone for a challenging match. 

The early loss of Jubair Hossain to injury, followed by Shahadat Hossain’s breakdown after just two deliveries, left Bangladesh severely depleted. Forced to rely on a three-pronged bowling attack that included part-timer Soumya Sarkar, the Tigers struggled to contain Pakistan’s disciplined batting. 

The fielding woes added salt to the wound. Azhar Ali, reprieved thrice due to a no-ball and dropped catches, capitalized with a double century, turning the match decisively in Pakistan’s favour. 

In response, Bangladesh’s batting crumbled under pressure. Unlike their spirited display in Khulna, the Tigers appeared tentative, succumbing to Pakistan’s intelligent and hostile bowling. The decision to play eight batsmen backfired spectacularly, exposing a lack of balance in team composition and strategy. 

The result was a crushing 328-run defeat—a sobering reminder of the work that still lies ahead for Bangladesh in Test cricket. 

The Bigger Picture 

Despite the Mirpur debacle, the series was a landmark moment for Bangladesh. Their dominance in the limited-overs formats and their defiant performance in Khulna overshadowed the disappointment of the second Test. The Tigers have proven they belong on the world stage, but the defeat also laid bare the gaps in their Test cricket arsenal. 

The reliance on part-time bowlers, lapses in fielding, and an inconsistent approach to batting must be addressed. More importantly, the team must strike a balance between preserving confidence through defensive strategies and embracing the attacking mindset needed for long-term success in Test cricket. 

Looking Ahead 

Under Chandika Hathurusingha’s astute leadership, Bangladesh has already shown a remarkable ability to learn and adapt. This tour, with its highs and lows, offers invaluable lessons. With tougher assignments against India, Australia, and South Africa on the horizon, the Tigers must refine their strategies and strengthen their core. 

Bangladesh cricket is in the midst of a transformation. This is a team that now dares to dream, dares to fight, and dares to fail—because every failure is a step toward growth. As they continue their journey, fans and critics alike will watch eagerly, knowing that the Tigers’ roar is only growing louder.  

 

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

Younis Khan: Pakistan’s Indomitable Warrior

Fourteen years ago, a 22-year-old from Mardan etched his name into cricket’s consciousness with a knock that spoke volumes of his grit and determination. Pakistan, reeling in the second innings of a Test against Sri Lanka at Rawalpindi, found itself teetering on the edge of defeat. It was then that Younis Khan emerged, not just as a batsman but as a force. In partnership with the mercurial Wasim Akram, he crafted a defiant maiden century, building a ninth-wicket stand that briefly resurrected Pakistan’s hopes. While the team ultimately succumbed in a tense finish, the young batsman’s resolute display had announced the arrival of a player whose career would be defined by resilience.  

The Early Struggles

Younis Khan’s journey to greatness was never a linear ascent. His early career was a mosaic of brilliance and inconsistency, glimpses of potential often extinguished before translating into meaningful contributions. Runs eluded him when most needed, and his place in the squad hung precariously. Yet, what Younis lacked in immediate results, he made up for with determination. Refusing to let fleeting failures define him, he toiled relentlessly, chiselling away at the edges of his game to craft a foundation that could not be shaken.  

The turning point came in 2005 during Pakistan’s tour of India. The Bengaluru Test was a moment of reckoning. Until then, Younis had struggled to make an impact on the series. But under the mentorship of coach Bob Woolmer, who saw beyond the numbers, Younis delivered a monumental double century. That innings wasn’t just a rescue act; it was an emphatic declaration of intent. From that point onward, Younis Khan began the transformation from a promising player into a stalwart of Pakistan cricket.  

A Legacy of Leadership and Resilience

Younis’s rise was emblematic of his character—a gradual yet unyielding journey toward permanence. Over the years, he became the fulcrum of Pakistan’s batting lineup, a player who thrived under pressure and delivered when others faltered. His resilience was most vividly on display during his captaincy tenure, particularly in leading Pakistan to victory in the 2009 ICC World Twenty20. His leadership in that tournament, calm yet commanding, showcased his ability to galvanize a team in turmoil.  

Yet, Younis’s contributions extended far beyond runs and victories. He was a player who embodied the ethos of Pakistani cricket, a blend of artistry and defiance, unpredictability and perseverance. Time and again, he shouldered the burden of a faltering lineup, becoming the glue that held the team together. His batting was not merely a showcase of technical prowess but a testament to his mental fortitude.  

A Troubled Relationship with the PCB

Despite his immense contributions, Younis Khan’s relationship with the Pakistan Cricket Board (PCB) was fraught with tension. The board’s treatment of Younis often bordered on disrespect, marked by a lack of recognition for his service. In 2009, he was unceremoniously stripped of the captaincy, a decision that left a sour taste among fans and pundits alike. Time and again, Younis found himself sidelined, with the PCB favouring short-term decisions over long-term vision.  

The nadir came ahead of the 2015 World Cup. Excluded from the ODI squad, Younis was informed with little ceremony and even less regard. Chief selector Moin Khan dismissed him as a failed “experiment,” signalling a focus on younger players. The decision not only sidelined a stalwart but also betrayed the board’s tendency to overlook contributions in favour of fleeting trends. Younis’s frustration boiled over in public comments, where he implored the PCB to honour its heroes lest future generations lose their motivation to play for Pakistan.  

The Fighter’s Rebuttal

  

True to his nature, Younis Khan responded not with words but with performances. The ongoing series against Australia became his platform for redemption. Through sheer skill and unyielding determination, Younis silenced his critics with performances that reaffirmed his standing as one of Pakistan’s finest batsmen.  

His ability to rise in the face of adversity reflects not just a cricketer’s resilience but a warrior’s spirit. A proud Pathan, Younis’s unwavering commitment to his country is as much a matter of identity as it is of passion. Even when wronged, his loyalty to Pakistan cricket never wavered.  

The Indelible Legacy

Younis Khan’s journey is a masterclass in perseverance. He is more than just a cricketer; he is a symbol of resilience, an emblem of pride, and an inspiration for generations. His batting was a symphony of skill and determination, a reminder that greatness is earned not through talent alone but through an unrelenting pursuit of excellence.  

For Pakistan cricket, Younis Khan is not merely a player to be celebrated; he is a legacy to be preserved. His career is a reminder to the PCB and fans alike that champions do not emerge in isolation; they are nurtured, supported, and respected. To fail in honouring such a legacy is to undermine the very spirit of the game.  

In the annals of cricket, Younis Khan will remain a towering figure, a player whose name is synonymous with resilience. For Pakistan, he is not just a batsman or a captain but a mirror reflecting the team’s greatest qualities: unyielding determination, boundless talent, and an unshakeable will to rise, no matter how steep the fall.  

Thank You 

Faisal Caesar