Liton Kumar Das: A Beacon of Resilience in Bangladesh's Struggle Against South Africa

The rain-delayed second day of the Test match saw the sun finally shine over the Manuang Oval Cricket Ground in Bloemfontein, but for Bangladesh, the day began in familiar frustration. South Africa’s Hashim Amla and Faf du Plessis, with their trademark class and effortless elegance, cruised to centuries, piling more pressure on Bangladesh’s beleaguered captain, Mushfiqur Rahim. Despite Rahim’s best efforts to curb the runs through defensive tactics, Amla and du Plessis's steady accumulation of runs highlighted the gap in quality, as Faf declared at a dominant 573 for 4.

In an unexpected turn, the injured Imrul Kayes took to the field, opening with Soumya Sarkar. Yet the early South African bowlers, led by Kagiso Rabada, Duanne Olivier, and Wayne Parnell, shattered Bangladesh’s top order with clinical precision. At 65 for 6, the collapse seemed inevitable, and a humiliating defeat loomed large. It was in this moment of despair that Liton Kumar Das emerged, providing a glimmer of hope amidst the wreckage of his team’s failing batting line-up.

Liton Kumar Das: A Moment of Resilience

The situation was dire. Soumya was dismissed cheaply, Mominul was caught behind, and Mushfiq, seemingly flustered, followed his teammates back to the dressing room after a spectacular catch by Temba Bavuma. Mahmudullah Riyad, a man of great temperament in the first innings at Potchefstroom, started with promise but perished to a poor shot against a wide delivery from Parnell. As Bangladesh’s hopes of mounting a respectable reply began to fade, Liton stood resolutely at the crease.

Liton, often a player of great promise but inconsistency, chose the moment to demonstrate his skill and mental fortitude. In the face of the relentless South African pace, he opted not for a defensive mindset but for an intelligent counterattack, reminiscent of classical batting rather than the frantic T20 style that dominates the modern game.

His first boundary came via an edge, but it was his second that showcased his true technique. Parnell, pitching on a good length, was punished with a boundary through long off—Liton had quickly assessed the length and got into position with remarkable clarity. His ability to read the bowler and play with such controlled aggression began to frustrate the South African bowlers.

The Art of Counterattack: Liton’s Mastery

After tea, Bangladesh’s position deteriorated further with the loss of Imrul Kayes and Sabbir Rahman, but Liton remained undeterred. He assumed the role of a calm anchor for the tail-enders, notably Taijul Islam, with great composure and remarkable skill. Liton’s shot selection against South African pacers was outstanding—he exhibited great technique and footwork, especially when confronted by the likes of Rabada.

Rabada, known for his searing pace, was taken on by Liton with remarkable poise. In the 22nd over, Rabada banged in a short ball, and Liton executed a superb hook shot, keeping the ball down on the ground. It was a shot executed with such sublime technique that it stood out as a rare gem in modern cricket, where the hook shot has become less of a common sight.

Liton continued to frustrate Rabada, who switched to a back-of-a-length line outside off. Liton, however, responded with a series of elegant strokes through the offside, two of which were classic boundaries, delivered with perfect timing and balance. Rabada, caught off guard by Liton’s flawless execution, had no answer.

A Lesson in Temperament and Technique

As the innings progressed, Liton’s composure was evident. Against Phehlukwayo, he unleashed a sequence of brilliant boundaries, taking control of the game and dragging Bangladesh out of a seemingly insurmountable hole. His fifty was a milestone, but it was the ease with which he found the gaps, even in the face of relentless pressure, that spoke volumes about his skill and character.

Liton’s partnership with Taijul Islam blossomed into a vital 52-run stand, showcasing his ability to marshal the tail. Phehlukwayo became the next victim of Liton’s calculated aggression, as he dispatched the bowler to all corners of the field, with four boundaries in a single over—a dazzling display of footwork and timing.

However, despite his brilliance, Liton’s innings came to a soft end. Attempting a pull shot against Rabada, he edged the ball to Faf du Plessis, bringing his fine knock to a close. Yet, his effort earned him wide recognition as one of the few bright spots in an otherwise grim batting display by Bangladesh.

Conclusion: A Test of Character

Liton’s innings, though ultimately falling short of what could have been a match-saving knock, provided valuable insight into what Bangladesh need to focus on in their quest for improvement in Test cricket. His batting was a lesson in the right attitude and the right technique. Liton demonstrated that, while the pitch might present challenges, the real test lies in the temperament and approach to the game. His ability to counterattack intelligently, his footwork against pace, and his composure under pressure all point to a player with the potential to be a mainstay in Bangladesh’s Test side.

His performance with both bat and gloves offers hope for Bangladesh’s future in the longer format of the game. Liton Kumar Das has shown that, with the right mental approach, no challenge is insurmountable—a sentiment that should resonate deeply within Bangladesh’s cricketing circle.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

Mushfiqur Rahim’s Leadership: A Reflection of Fragility and Missteps

Leadership in cricket, especially at the Test level, is a crucible that demands clarity of thought, tactical acumen, and the ability to inspire. Mushfiqur Rahim’s captaincy during the Bloemfontein Test against South Africa, however, painted a picture of confusion and a troubling lack of accountability. His decisions on the field, compounded by baffling statements off it, not only hurt Bangladesh’s chances but also raised serious questions about his suitability as a leader. 

The Toss: A Gift Squandered 

Winning the toss in cricket is often considered an advantage, offering the captain a chance to dictate terms. Yet, Mushfiqur’s post-match statement—“I think it was my mistake to win the toss”—defies both logic and expectation. This comment, delivered with an emotional undertone, betrayed not only his fragile confidence but also his inability to shoulder responsibility. 

The essence of captaincy lies in using opportunities wisely. At Potchefstroom and Bloemfontein, the toss presented Mushfiqur with a chance to leverage conditions favourable for batting first. Instead, his misreading of the pitch resulted in decisions that left his team vulnerable. To attribute failure to the fortune of winning the toss reflects a mindset unfit for the rigours of Test leadership. 

The real question is not about the toss but about Mushfiqur’s inability to read the track.

Was it the toss or the captain’s judgment that failed Bangladesh? The answer is glaringly obvious. 

The Blame Game: Bowlers and Beyond 

In his post-day press conference, Mushfiqur laid blame on the bowlers, stating, “Our bowling wasn’t up to the standard.” While the bowlers’ performances were not exemplary, this critique conveniently ignored the captain’s role in their ineffectiveness. 

Let us revisit the critical moments: 

1. Field Settings: Starting with only two slips for Mustafizur Rahman, despite favourable conditions, deprived the bowler of attacking options. A leg slip was inexplicably placed, forcing Mustafizur to bowl on middle and leg, playing into Dean Elgar’s strengths. 

2. Bowling Changes: Within the first six overs, Mushfiqur replaced his new-ball bowlers with Rubel Hossain and part-timer Soumya Sarkar—a chaotic rotation that disrupted rhythm and ceded momentum to the South African batsmen. 

3. Defensive Fields: Throughout the first session, defensive field placements allowed the opposition to settle. Aggressive bowling without aggressive fields is akin to a blade without its edge. 

4. Captain’s Positioning: Mushfiqur’s decision to field outside the inner circle, citing instructions from the team management, was perplexing. A captain’s presence in the inner circle is vital for strategy and communication. Delegating this responsibility to others undermined the very essence of his role. 

Blaming the bowlers for failing to execute plans is futile when the plans themselves are flawed. Leadership demands ownership, and Mushfiqur’s reluctance to acknowledge his missteps only deepened the team’s woes. 

The Role of a Captain: Courage, Intelligence, and Autonomy 

Mushfiqur’s claim that he was merely following the team management’s instructions raises a fundamental question: why, then, is he the captain? Cricket, unlike soccer, places the captain at the heart of decision-making. While inputs from coaches and team management are valuable, the captain must have the courage and intelligence to make independent decisions on the field. 

A captain who abdicates this responsibility reduces himself to a figurehead, eroding the team’s trust and morale. Mushfiqur’s remarks not only reflected a lack of autonomy but also hinted at a tendency to deflect blame—a trait unbecoming of a leader. 

The Personality Gap 

Leadership in Test cricket requires more than tactical knowledge; it demands a commanding personality, the ability to inspire confidence, and the resilience to face adversity. Mushfiqur’s repeated missteps and emotional responses suggest a leader struggling under the weight of expectations. 

Contrast this with players like Tamim Iqbal, whose assertive personality and understanding of the game have often been evident. Tamim’s leadership qualities, coupled with his ability to handle pressure, make him a compelling candidate for the role of Test captain. 

The Way Forward 

For Bangladesh cricket to progress, the Bangladesh Cricket Board (BCB) must reevaluate its leadership choices. Mushfiqur Rahim’s tenure as Test captain has been marked by inconsistency, defensive tactics, and an inability to learn from mistakes. While his contributions as a player remain invaluable, leadership may not align with his strengths. 

Investing in a captain like Tamim Iqbal, who embodies the qualities of a modern leader, could rejuvenate the team and instil a sense of direction. Leadership is not about avoiding mistakes but about learning from them and inspiring others to rise above challenges. 

Conclusion 

Mushfiqur Rahim’s captaincy at Bloemfontein will be remembered not for its strategic brilliance but for its misjudgments and misplaced accountability. His comments off the field only underscored the gaps in his leadership. For Bangladesh cricket, this moment should serve as a turning point—a chance to reflect, reassess, and rebuild. Leadership is the cornerstone of success, and it is time for Bangladesh to find a leader who can truly rise to the occasion. 

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

The Enigma of Mushfiqur Rahim’s Captaincy: A Study in Stubbornness

On October 4, 2017, ESPNcricinfo’s South African correspondent, Firdose Moonda, painted a vivid picture of the Bloemfontein pitch ahead of the second Test between South Africa and Bangladesh. Photographs showed a verdant strip, indistinguishable from the outfield, sparking speculation of a pace-friendly track. By the time of the toss, however, the reality was starkly different. Persistent rain had kept the pitch under covers, and what emerged was a dry surface, devoid of the anticipated grass and bounce. It was, as South African captain Faf du Plessis quipped, “a very normal cricket wicket,” ideal for batting first. 

Yet, Mushfiqur Rahim, leading Bangladesh, defied conventional wisdom and chose to field first—a decision that raised eyebrows and evoked ridicule. Du Plessis, with a smirk, encapsulated the incredulity of the moment, remarking, “Nine times out of 10, you bat first.” What followed was a masterclass in poor decision-making and flawed execution, an episode emblematic of Mushfiqur’s troubled captaincy. 

The Repetition of Errors 

Cricket, at its highest level, demands adaptability and a willingness to learn from past mistakes. Yet, Mushfiqur Rahim’s tenure as captain often seemed like a case study in the refusal to evolve. His decisions at Bloemfontein mirrored the errors made just days earlier at Potchefstroom. The toss decision, the defensive field placements, and the chaotic use of bowlers—all pointed to a captain who either lacked awareness or stubbornly resisted the lessons of experience. 

The decision to field first was perplexing enough, but the execution compounded the problem. Mustafizur Rahman, operating with the breeze from the Loch Logan End, was given a defensive field with only two slips and a leg slip—a placement that forced him to bowl on the middle and leg stump, allowing Dean Elgar to score with ease. Subashis Roy, after conceding 15 runs in a single over, was inexplicably replaced by part-time medium-pacer Soumya Sarkar within the first five overs—a move that defied logic on the opening morning of a Test match. By the 10th over, Mushfiqur had already cycled through four bowlers, a pattern more befitting of a club-level game than international cricket. 

Defensive Fields and Aggressive Bowlers 

Even when the Bangladeshi pacers found rhythm post-lunch, Mushfiqur’s defensive field placements undermined their efforts. The aggressive intent of Mustafizur, Rubel Hossain, and Subashis Roy was neutralized by a captain who seemed more intent on damage control than wicket-taking. South Africa’s batsmen, untroubled by the lack of attacking fields, treated the session as a leisurely outing, accumulating runs with ease. 

This recurring pattern of defensive captaincy not only frustrated the bowlers but also highlighted a deeper issue: Mushfiqur’s inability to trust his players and his own instincts. In Test cricket, bold decisions often yield the greatest rewards, but Mushfiqur seemed trapped in a cycle of indecision and fear. 

The Psychological Barrier 

Why does Mushfiqur persist with these flawed strategies? Psychology offers a potential explanation. Experts describe a phenomenon known as choice-supportive bias, where individuals rationalize their decisions post hoc, attributing positive qualities to their choices while downplaying their faults. Mushfiqur’s repeated justifications for his decisions—often couched in emotional or weakly logical terms—suggest a deep-seated reluctance to acknowledge mistakes. 

This bias is further compounded by a tendency to avoid discomfort. Admitting to errors is inherently unpleasant, but it is also the first step toward growth. Mushfiqur’s refusal to confront his missteps creates a self-perpetuating loop: flawed decisions lead to poor outcomes, which are then rationalized, ensuring the cycle continues. 

A Case Study in Leadership 

Mushfiqur’s captaincy offers a fascinating case study for leadership and behavioral psychology. His steadfast adherence to flawed strategies, even in the face of repeated failures, underscores the importance of adaptability and self-awareness in leadership. Neuroscientists and psychologists might find in him a rare subject to study the mechanisms of stubbornness and the barriers to learning from failure. 

For Bangladesh cricket, however, this is no academic exercise. Leadership at the international level is not just about tactics; it is about inspiring confidence, fostering trust, and making decisions that maximize the team’s potential. Mushfiqur’s struggles as captain suggest a disconnect between his role and his natural inclinations—a gap that has often left Bangladesh adrift in critical moments. 

The Way Forward 

To move forward, Mushfiqur must first confront the truth of his own fallibility. Mistakes, while inevitable, are only valuable if they lead to growth. A captain who cannot learn from the past is a liability to his team, no matter how skilled he may be as a player. 

For Bangladesh cricket, the lesson is equally clear: leadership is not just about seniority or individual talent but about the ability to adapt, inspire, and make sound decisions under pressure. As the team continues its journey on the global stage, it must prioritize leaders who embody these qualities, ensuring that the lessons of Bloemfontein are not lost to history. 

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

The Evolution of Cricket: A Battle Between Tradition and Modernity

In 2002, as the Benson & Hedges Cup—one of England's cherished one-day competitions—faded into history, the England and Wales Cricket Board (ECB) found itself at a crossroads. Seeking innovation to rejuvenate dwindling audiences, ECB marketing manager Stuart Robertson proposed a bold experiment: a 20-over-a-side contest. The concept, narrowly approved by county chairmen in an 11-7 vote, heralded the birth of Twenty20 cricket. On June 13, 2003, this radical format made its debut in the Twenty20 Cup, signaling the dawn of a new era. 

For a purist, the rationale behind this innovation was perplexing. Cricket, long celebrated as a game of patience, strategy, and gradual crescendo, seemed to be veering away from its essence. Test matches and One-Day Internationals (ODIs) had for decades captivated audiences with their intricate narratives. Yet, the emergence of T20 suggested an underlying dissatisfaction—a belief that cricket needed a shorter, more electrifying variant to capture the imagination of modern audiences. 

Initially, T20 found its footing within England, but its appeal soon transcended borders. Australia and Pakistan were early adopters, but it was India—the sport’s economic epicenter—that remained aloof. That indifference ended in 2007, when the inaugural ICC World Twenty20 final unfolded in Johannesburg. Misbah-ul-Haq’s ill-fated scoop off Joginder Sharma sealed Pakistan’s defeat, and MS Dhoni’s jubilant hoisting of the trophy ignited a paradigm shift in Indian cricket. What had been viewed as a novelty now became a revelation. 

The Indian Revolution: T20 Finds Its Spiritual Home 

India’s victory in the 2007 World Twenty20 was more than a triumph; it was a catalyst. The Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI), long a bastion of conservatism, quickly recognized the potential of T20 as a commercial juggernaut. In 2008, the Indian Premier League (IPL) was born—a dazzling amalgam of cricket and entertainment, complete with celebrity endorsements, team franchises, and a carnival-like atmosphere. 

The IPL’s immediate success was unparalleled. Advertisers flocked, audiences swelled, and cricket found itself reimagined as a spectacle. Yet, beneath the glitz lay a deeper concern: the erosion of cricket’s soul. Test cricket, the format where legends are forged and cricket’s artistry is most evident, began to fade into the background. The nuanced battles of attrition that defined Test cricket were overshadowed by the fireworks of T20. 

The IPL’s model proved infectious. Leagues inspired by its formula sprang up across the globe—the Big Bash League in Australia, the Caribbean Premier League, the Pakistan Super League, and the Bangladesh Premier League. Each promised instant gratification, glamour, and lucrative opportunities for players. For traditionalists, this shift was bittersweet. Modernization was inevitable, but the commercialization of the sport raised questions about its long-term impact. 

The Cost of Brevity 

By the 2010s, T20 cricket had monopolized the calendar, shaping a generation of players whose techniques prioritized power over precision. The artistry of constructing an innings or outwitting a batsman over long spells gave way to an urgency that often lacked depth. Cricket’s once-revered traditions became casualties of this transformation, as players and fans gravitated toward the format’s immediacy and spectacle. 

Yet, T20’s meteoric rise brought with it a darker underbelly. The format’s brevity and unpredictability created fertile ground for corruption. As early as 2009, Lord Condon, the former head of the Anti-Corruption and Security Unit (ACSU), warned of the risks. Match-fixing, once challenging to orchestrate in the complexity of Test cricket, found a new haven in T20, where games were decided in a matter of overs, and stakes were amplified by massive viewership. 

The Threat of T10: A Step Too Far? 

As if T20 weren’t condensed enough, the advent of T10 cricket introduced an even shorter format, promising matches completed within 90 minutes. With cricket legends like Virender Sehwag, Chris Gayle, and Shahid Afridi endorsing the format, T10 gained traction. But this reduction raised existential questions: when does innovation become degradation? 

T10 threatens to strip cricket of its very identity. What was once a test of skill, endurance, and strategy risks becoming mere entertainment—a show devoid of the qualities that made cricket unique. The allure of quick money and endorsements increasingly draws players away from Test cricket, the format where true greatness is etched. Shakib Al Hasan’s decision to prioritize T10 over a Test series exemplifies this troubling trend. 

The Existential Crossroads 

Cricket now stands at a precarious juncture. The balance between tradition and modernity is tilting alarmingly toward instant gratification. While T20 and its derivatives have expanded cricket’s global reach, they have also diluted its essence. Test cricket, the pinnacle of the sport, faces an uncertain future as players and audiences shift their loyalties. 

The legacy of cricket’s greats—WG Grace, Don Bradman, Garfield Sobers—was built on the foundations of Test cricket. To lose this format would be to sever cricket from its roots, reducing it to a fleeting spectacle rather than a battle of skill, discipline, and endurance. 

As William Pollard aptly observed, “The arrogance of success is to think that what you did yesterday will be sufficient for tomorrow.” Cricket must evolve, but not at the cost of its soul. The global cricketing community must guard against excess, preserving the balance that has long made the sport a masterpiece. Without Test cricket, and perhaps even ODIs, cricket risks becoming unrecognizable—a game of lights and fireworks, but devoid of its enduring spirit. 

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

Sri Lanka’s Revival: A Victory Against the Odds

When Kumar Sangakkara bid farewell to international cricket, Sri Lanka entered a phase of uncertainty—a familiar yet daunting period of transition. While the emergence of new talents offered glimpses of hope, the results on the field painted a grim picture. Defeats piled up, and the once-proud cricketing nation found itself struggling to stay competitive. Transition, a term often used to soften the blow of such setbacks, began to wear thin as humiliations became more frequent. 

The nadir came when Sri Lanka succumbed to low-ranked teams, sides that barely played active cricket. These losses were not just defeats but symbolic of a deeper malaise. A heavy thrashing on home soil without putting up even a semblance of resistance amplified fears that Sri Lanka might be heading down the same path as the West Indies—a cricketing powerhouse unable to navigate the void left by its legends. 

What Sri Lankan cricket desperately needed was a spark, a morale-boosting victory to reignite belief and uplift a team searching for its identity. The question, however, was when and where that spark would come. 

A Test of Resolve in Abu Dhabi 

The first Test against Pakistan in Abu Dhabi seemed poised to deliver yet another blow to Sri Lanka’s fragile confidence. Chasing a modest 136 on the final day, Pakistan appeared to be in control. Yasir Shah had spun a web around Sri Lanka earlier, and the hosts seemed destined to cruise to victory. 

But Test cricket, as always, had other ideas. Its beauty lies in its unpredictability, and when Pakistan is involved, drama is never far away. 

Enter Rangana Herath, the veteran spinner whose guile and perseverance epitomized Sri Lankan cricket’s fighting spirit. With Pakistan’s top and middle order crumbling under pressure, Herath turned the game on its head. From a position of comfort, Pakistan spiraled into chaos, losing ten wickets on the final day—a collapse that has become alarmingly familiar for them in recent years.  

Since 2016, Pakistan has lost ten wickets in a fourth-innings chase on five occasions, with another instance where nine fell in quick succession. This vulnerability on the final day, reminiscent of Bangladesh’s struggles, once again reared its head. 

The Significance of Victory 

For Sri Lanka, this was more than just a win; it was a moment of catharsis. After months of despair and self-doubt, they had orchestrated one of the most dramatic comebacks in recent Test history. The victory in Abu Dhabi not only ended a streak of disappointments but also provided a much-needed injection of confidence to a team in transition. 

Herath’s spell symbolized resilience, a reminder of what Sri Lanka could achieve when they combined skill with belief. It was a performance that harkened back to the glory days, offering a glimmer of hope that the future might not be as bleak as it once seemed. 

A Triumph for Test Cricket 

This victory was not just important for Sri Lanka but for Test cricket itself. In an era where the longest format often finds itself overshadowed by the glitz of T20 leagues, such dramatic turnarounds reaffirm its unique charm. The sight of a team clawing its way back from the brink, defying the odds to script an improbable win, is what keeps the format alive and cherished. 

Sri Lanka’s triumph serves as a reminder that transitions, while painful, can also be transformative. It is never easy to replace legends, but moments like these show that the road to recovery is paved with resilience and belief. For Sri Lanka, the win in Abu Dhabi was not just a victory; it was a statement—a declaration that they still belong among the elite. 

In the grander narrative of cricket, this victory was a beacon of hope, a testament to the enduring spirit of the game.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar