Pakistan’s Resurgence: A Journey of Determination, Strategy, and Collective Brilliance

The series victory that Pakistan secured against India in the latest one-day international clash was nothing short of sensational. Trailing 2-0 in the series, Pakistan mounted an awe-inspiring comeback to win 4-2, completing one of the most remarkable and unexpected turnarounds in recent cricket history. The victory was more than just a number on the scoreboard; it symbolized the resurgence of a team that had been written off, relying not only on individual brilliance but on unmatched collective willpower, strategic execution, and an unwavering belief in their capabilities. This victory, secured on home soil, would go down in history as one of Pakistan's most satisfying and complete one-day triumphs.

The final match, played in front of a crowd that included Pakistan’s President Pervez Musharraf and India’s Prime Minister Manmohan Singh, was a display of Pakistan’s batting depth and bowling intensity. Every single player contributed in a way that helped Pakistan seal the series with an authoritative performance, one that overshadowed India’s hopes of securing a consolation victory. 

The Early Fireworks: Afridi’s Blistering Start

The match began with a familiar face—Shahid Afridi—looking to make an impact with his aggressive batting style. Known for his ability to destroy bowling attacks in the blink of an eye, Afridi once again lived up to his reputation. In a stunning display of power hitting, Afridi took just 23 balls to score 44 runs, setting a fiery tempo for Pakistan’s innings. His innings, reminiscent of the chaos he created in previous matches, threatened to replicate the damage he had done in Kanpur. It was not only the runs he accumulated but the psychological pressure he placed on the Indian bowlers early on that played a pivotal role in Pakistan’s eventual success. 

Shoaib Malik’s Composure: The Anchor

While Afridi set the stage alight, it was Shoaib Malik’s steady and composed innings that provided the necessary stability for Pakistan. Batting with great maturity, Malik scored 72 runs, his knock a mix of calculated aggression and measured defense. His contribution allowed Pakistan to build a solid foundation, an essential part of their eventual total. The way he played the middle overs, consolidating the scoring rate while also keeping the scoreboard ticking, was a reflection of his evolving role in the team as a reliable anchor in the middle order. His partnership with Afridi was critical in helping Pakistan recover from the initial bursts of aggression and giving the team a solid base to launch from.

The Languid Yet Effective Contributions: Youhana, Inzamam, and Younis Khan

Pakistan’s middle order, with seasoned players like Yousuf Youhana and Inzamam-ul-Haq, added crucial runs, albeit with a more measured approach. Both of these batsmen, known for their grace and ability to control innings, produced important fifties. Their innings were a contrast to Afridi’s blitz, yet they served just as vital a purpose. Youhana’s 50 was a composed knock, but his dismissal via a contentious lbw decision was unfortunate, robbing him of the chance to build on his innings further. Similarly, Inzamam’s elegant 53 was cut short by another questionable decision. 

But in the face of these setbacks, Pakistan's resolve only hardened. Inzamam’s dismissal was met with steely determination from Younis Khan, who provided an impromptu 40, rapidly pushing the team towards the 300-run mark. Khan's energetic knock allowed Pakistan to accelerate when the match seemed to be slipping away from them. His contribution was one of opportunism and aggression, striking at just the right time to break the shackles and give Pakistan the necessary momentum to set a formidable total. 

Naved-ul-Hasan: The Breakthrough Bowler

Chasing down 303 runs was never going to be an easy task for India, especially with Pakistan’s bowlers firing on all cylinders. Leading the charge with the ball was Naved-ul-Hasan, whose performance against India’s star batsman, Virender Sehwag, had already become a defining theme of the series. Naved had dismissed Sehwag four times in the series, and this match was no different. Sehwag, who was expected to provide the early acceleration for India, was dismissed once again by Naved, throwing a wrench in India’s chase before it had even begun. The dismissal of Sehwag early on allowed Pakistan to seize control of the match, and Naved’s relentless pursuit of wickets proved to be crucial in breaking India’s momentum. 

As Pakistan’s bowlers honed in on the target, the pitch, which had already shown signs of wear, began to crumble under the pressure. With uneven bounce and variable pace, it became increasingly difficult for the Indian batsmen to time their shots and adapt to the changing conditions. Pakistan’s bowlers exploited the conditions perfectly, using the variations in bounce and pace to keep India on the defensive. 

A Tumultuous Interruption: The Crowd’s Frustration

The match, however, was not without its moments of controversy. As India’s innings faltered, the frustration among the Indian supporters boiled over. Mohammad Kaif, one of India’s more dependable middle-order batsmen, was dismissed for a disappointing 19, and at 94 for six, India’s chances were all but dashed. The audience, disgruntled by the seemingly inevitable loss, began throwing bottles onto the field, leading to a brief 20-minute interruption. Although this moment of unrest threatened to mar the match, it did little to diminish the significance of Pakistan’s performance. In the end, it was a reflection of how deeply the game’s outcome resonated with the fans, but it was Pakistan’s unflappable approach that took centre stage. 

The Final Push: Pakistan’s Bowling Brilliance

As the match approached its final stages, Pakistan’s bowlers, led by the ever-impressive Naved and supported by the steady performances of their spinners, closed in on victory. India’s resistance began to collapse in a flurry of wickets, as Pakistan’s bowlers tightened their grip with each passing over. Pakistan’s fielding, too, was sharp, complementing the bowling attack and ensuring that no opportunities were wasted. 

Ultimately, the chase faltered. India’s batting, unable to adapt to the challenging conditions and the incisive bowling from Pakistan, was dismantled by the relentless pressure. With India all out for 213, Pakistan had won by a significant margin—an incredible achievement that marked their largest-ever one-day victory over India.

A Complete Team Performance

This victory, which handed Pakistan a 4-2 series win, was not just about individual brilliance but a collective effort that embodied resilience, teamwork, and tactical awareness. Every player, from Afridi to Malik to Khan, contributed in their own way. The captaincy of Inzamam-ul-Haq, despite the controversial dismissals, was central to keeping the team focused and calm under pressure. Even when faced with adversity, Pakistan showed incredible mental fortitude, maintaining composure in both the batting and bowling departments.

For Pakistan, this was a moment of redemption and validation—a triumph not just of talent but of willpower and strategy. They had come back from the brink, overturning a 2-0 deficit with a series of clinical performances. The victory encapsulated a complete team effort, with contributions across every facet of the game, and it stood as a testament to the power of unity and belief in the face of overwhelming odds.

This match, this series, will be remembered not only for the brilliance displayed by the players but also for how Pakistan, once written off, rose to the occasion, proving that no challenge is insurmountable when a team fights with heart and purpose.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

Vintage Wasim, Vulnerable India: Pakistan Cruise to Tenth Sharjah Title

On a ground where their dominance has become almost ritualistic, Pakistan once again proved too clinical, too composed, and far too superior for a stuttering Indian side that imploded under pressure. A magical first over from Wasim Akram—wicketless till this game—was the spark, and the flame of Indian resistance never truly caught on. Pakistan completed a thumping victory, chasing down a modest target of 126 with 132 balls to spare, clinching their tenth title at Sharjah in the process.

The Fiery Wasim Akram 

India’s innings was over before it ever found rhythm. Inserted under the floodlights, they began with trepidation and never recovered from Wasim Akram’s opening burst. After a quiet first two deliveries, the maestro produced two balls that would’ve dismissed far better batsmen than Sadagoppan Ramesh and Rahul Dravid. Ramesh nicked off to a sharp outswinger; Dravid, India’s batting fulcrum, was trapped in front by one that tailed in late. It was fast bowling at its poetic best—late movement, precise lengths, and the kind of control that only Akram could summon in such conditions.

From there, the innings unravelled like a fraying thread. Ganguly, standing tall at one end, scratched out a 50 that was more of a trench battle than fluent artistry. He faced 83 deliveries, struck just three boundaries, and spent much of his stay watching partners depart in haste or confusion. Three batsmen were run out—products of poor calling and panic rather than pressure—marking this as one of India’s most amateurish batting displays in recent memory.

India’s final score—125 all out in 45 overs—was a testament to their disarray. This wasn’t so much a collapse as it was a surrender, a team caught between fear and miscalculation.

Pakistan’s chase was the polar opposite—calm, professional, and ruthless. Shahid Afridi gave them a customary early jolt with a quick cameo, but it was Inzamam-ul-Haq who provided the spine of the chase. His unbeaten 39 off 38 balls reflected the ease with which Pakistan approached the target. There was no need for aggression—just accumulation and control.

Ajit Agarkar, who had promised much at the start of his international career, endured a brutal outing. His five overs went for 51, sprayed with inconsistency and punished accordingly. He struggled to find a length and never once looked like troubling the Pakistani batters. The contrast with Wasim was stark—one bowler announcing himself with thunder, the other disappearing with a whimper.

For Pakistan, the win reinforced their command over subcontinental showdowns in Sharjah—a venue that often feels like a second home. For India, it was a match that once again raised uncomfortable questions about temperament, planning, and the ability to handle pressure in high-stakes encounters.

As Wasim Akram led his team off the field, ball in hand and smile intact, there was a sense of symmetry—Sharjah, the scene of so many Pakistani triumphs, had once again danced to his tune.

Thank You 

Faisal Caesar 

Viv Richards’ Blitzkrieg: The Day Antigua Became an Empire of His Own Making

The 1980s were a decade of despair for English cricket whenever they encountered the West Indies. Series after series, the English teams returned home battered, their spirits blackened by repeated Blackwashes. The contests were brutal, not merely in scorecards but in their physical toll, as the West Indian fast bowlers pounded England’s batsmen into submission. If there was any glimmer of hope for David Gower’s men in the 1986 tour, it was swiftly extinguished by a combination of relentless pace and, on one fateful afternoon in Antigua, by a batting masterclass that defied the limits of aggression and audacity.

Prelude to a Massacre

Before the fifth Test in St. John’s, the script had already been written in blood. England had been undone, not just by the ferocity of the West Indian attack but by the psychological scars inflicted even before the series truly began. Two months earlier, in the first ODI, Malcolm Marshall’s thunderbolt had smashed Mike Gatting’s nose into an unrecognizable pulp, a harbinger of the brutality that was to follow.

The pace quartet—Marshall, Joel Garner, Patrick Patterson, and Michael Holding—had dismantled England with an almost mechanical efficiency. Courtney Walsh, called upon for one match, barely disturbed the order of things. The scoreboard chronicled the carnage: 4-0 down, Gower's team arrived in Antigua hoping only to survive, not necessarily to win.

But the island would offer no sanctuary.

If the fast bowlers had dictated the series, the final act belonged to a batsman. And not just any batsman, but the one who had long embodied the very essence of West Indian dominance: Sir Isaac Vivian Alexander Richards.

England’s Fleeting Resistance

Gower won the toss. It was to be his last act of authority in the match. Whether he chose to bowl to exploit a damp wicket or simply to postpone the inevitable trauma for his batsmen remains uncertain. What followed was a deceptive start to what would ultimately be another procession of English despair.

Desmond Haynes’s 131 had anchored the innings, yet at 281 for 6, with the lower order exposed, England might have felt they had finally clawed back into the contest. But Gower, seduced by the thought of Ian Botham surpassing Dennis Lillee’s world record of 355 Test wickets, over-bowled his talismanic all-rounder. The consequences were catastrophic.

Marshall, Harper, and Holding—men whose reputations were carved with the ball—turned into marauding batsmen. The final four wickets plundered 193 runs. Holding, whose batting was often treated as an afterthought, hammered 73 from 63 balls, dispatching four sixes as if he had been disguising a hidden genius all these years. By the time England finally quelled the tail, the total stood at 474—an almighty climb for a team already drowning in self-doubt.

Yet, as the English openers set out to respond, something unexpected happened. Graham Gooch and Wilf Slack played with defiance, stitching together 127 runs against the very bowlers who had terrorized them all series. Even as they departed, Gower himself unfurled a masterful innings, a 103-ball 90 that stood as England’s only true moment of batting class on the tour.

For a fleeting moment, the visitors glimpsed parity. At 290, they had limited the deficit to 164, enough to at least entertain the possibility of resistance. But cricket, especially West Indian cricket of the 1980s, had little patience for fairy tales.

The Arrival of the King

West Indies’ second innings began with urgency. Haynes and Richie Richardson set the tone, 100 runs materializing in a little over two hours. Then, with 30 minutes to tea, Antigua’s favorite son strode onto the pitch.

The familiar figure of Viv Richards cut through the Caribbean air, his every movement a proclamation of authority. The maroon cap, perched at its customary tilt; the exaggerated, almost theatrical swagger; the jaw, working tirelessly on gum; and in his hands, the weapon that had humbled the greatest bowlers of his era—a Stuart Surridge bat that seemed less a piece of willow and more an extension of his own indomitable spirit.

Richards, in his early moments at the crease, played the part of a monarch surveying his domain. A couple of sighters. A slight narrowing of the eyes. And then, the storm.

By tea, he had faced 28 balls. He was 28 not out. Two of those deliveries had already disappeared over midwicket—one from Richard Ellison’s pace, the other from John Emburey’s spin. The contest had begun. Only, for England, it was never going to be a fair fight.

During the interval, Gower posed a desperate question to his team. “Who wants to bowl at him?” The silence spoke volumes.

Ultimately, it was Botham, two wickets shy of surpassing Lillee’s record, who stepped forward. Emburey was chosen to partner him. The sacrifice had been decided.

The Slaughter

Emburey was first to suffer. The off-spinner’s early economy—nine overs for 14 runs—was obliterated in an instant. The first offering post-tea was launched into the long-on stands. More followed. One six soared over midwicket and landed inside a nearby prison, a poetic coincidence given that Richards’ father had once worked there as a warden. By the time he reached his half-century—off just 35 balls—the carnage had become a spectacle beyond the confines of mere sport.

Botham, ever the warrior, sought his own redemption. He banged in a bouncer. Richards, unperturbed, swiveled into a hook so imperious it shattered a bottle of rum in the crowd. The ball was returned to the field with a shard of glass embedded in its surface, as if even the inanimate had been touched by the violence of the shot.

Two balls later, Botham saw his deliveries disappear once more—one over mid-off, another over midwicket. The innings had transformed into a crusade, with Richards at its helm, a force of nature with no regard for the mortals standing in his way.

Emburey, humiliated, attempted a slower ball. He succeeded only in deceiving himself. Richards, unable to reach the pitch, responded with a one-handed swipe. The ball soared, another six. The next stroke, a mirror image, landed for four.

The hundred came in 56 balls. A Test record. Faster than Jack Gregory’s previous mark by 11 deliveries. The Antiguan crowd, unable to contain itself, poured onto the field in chaotic celebration.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Two more balls were faced—one sent to the boundary, the other for six. And with that, Richards declared, unbeaten on 110 from 58 deliveries.

The scoreboard read 246 for 2. The statement had been made.

The Walk of an Emperor

But perhaps the most striking moment of all was what followed.

Richards did not hurry back to the pavilion. He did not allow himself to be swallowed by the dressing room. Instead, he paused. He stood at the crease, surveying the destruction he had wrought. Like Caesar returning from conquest, he took in the adoration, the astonishment, the quiet disbelief in the faces of those who had been privileged enough to witness his fury.

Scyld Berry, recalling the moment, put it best:

"Nobody rolled a red carpet out onto the field, but it would have been superfluous."

Richards had not merely batted. He had ruled. He had not merely scored runs. He had written a new chapter in cricketing mythology.

As for Boycott’s claim that Richards' days as a hard-hitter were over? Well, Boycott never knew too much about hard-hitting anyway.

Thank You 

Faisal Caesar 

A Rivalry Rekindled: Pakistan's Commanding Victory Over India

More than two years had elapsed since India and Pakistan last confronted each other on the cricket field. Their previous encounter in the World Cup had ended in India’s favour, but this time, Pakistan delivered a clinical and dominant performance, demonstrating their resilience and tactical acumen.

India’s Promising Start and the Collapse That Followed

Batting first, India made a commanding start, largely due to the brilliance of their batting maestro, Sachin Tendulkar. Recognized for his impeccable technique and ability to dictate terms, Tendulkar once again lived up to his reputation, crafting a fluent 73 off 64 balls. His innings was a perfect blend of controlled aggression and technical mastery, allowing India to dictate the early phases of the match. Alongside his top-order partners, he steered India to a formidable position at 156 for 2, setting the foundation for what should have been a challenging total.

However, what ensued was an inexplicable collapse, a stark contrast to their promising beginning. With the dismissal of key players, India’s middle and lower order found themselves unable to withstand the mounting pressure exerted by Pakistan’s bowlers. The batting lineup, which had looked steady and well-placed for a 270-plus total, faltered dramatically. In a span of just 63 runs, India lost their remaining eight wickets, showcasing a glaring lack of stability and adaptability under pressure. The sudden implosion was not merely a result of reckless shot-making but a testament to the relentless discipline of Pakistan’s bowlers, who systematically dismantled India’s resistance.

Eventually, India were bowled out for a modest 219—a total that, despite its initial promise, seemed inadequate given the conditions and the strength of Pakistan’s batting lineup. The total reflected India’s over-reliance on individual performances and their inability to construct a sustained batting effort, a flaw that would prove costly.

Saeed Anwar’s Brilliance and Basit Ali’s Clinical Finish

Chasing a target of 220, Pakistan approached their innings with a clear strategy: build a solid foundation before accelerating towards victory. Leading their response was Saeed Anwar, a batsman in sublime form, having recently amassed three consecutive centuries in Sharjah. His confidence and fluency were evident as he meticulously crafted a 72-run knock off just 69 balls, blending elegance with controlled aggression. Anwar’s innings was a textbook demonstration of how to pace a chase—attacking when necessary while ensuring stability at the crease.

Once Anwar set the platform, Basit Ali capitalized on the momentum with a seamless run-a-ball 75. His approach was methodical, ensuring that there were no unnecessary risks while keeping the scoreboard ticking. Unlike India’s middle order, which had collapsed under pressure, Basit exhibited composure and adaptability, guiding Pakistan to the finish line with five and a half overs to spare. His innings was a masterclass in calculated aggression, proving instrumental in securing the victory.

A Tale of Contrasting Mindsets

The match underscored the stark difference in approach between the two teams when faced with pressure situations. India’s innings, despite its promising start, lacked the coherence and structure necessary to post a competitive total. Their collapse highlighted an over-reliance on individual brilliance without a stable middle order to consolidate their gains. The inability to build partnerships beyond the top order proved to be their undoing.

In contrast, Pakistan’s batting was characterized by composure and efficiency. Their chase was methodically structured, with each batsman playing a defined role. Anwar’s ability to anchor the innings provided the stability required, while Basit Ali’s fluency ensured a smooth finish. The contrast in execution was evident—while India faltered due to lapses in temperament and game awareness, Pakistan thrived by maintaining a steady approach and capitalizing on key moments.

Conclusion: A Statement Victory for Pakistan

This victory was more than just a reversal of Pakistan’s World Cup defeat—it was a statement that, when at their best, they possessed the skill and temperament to outplay India in all departments. The win showcased Pakistan’s ability to handle pressure, their superior execution of plans, and their resilience in high-stakes encounters. In a rivalry defined by historic battles and shifting fortunes, this encounter reinforced Pakistan’s credentials as a formidable cricketing force, capable of rising to the occasion when it mattered most.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

Afridi’s Tempest: A Knock That Redefined Power-Hitting

Some innings shape matches, and then some innings transcend the game itself—moments of such rare, uninhibited brilliance that they etch themselves into cricketing folklore. At the Green Park Stadium in Kanpur, under the searing afternoon sun, Shahid Afridi conjured one such innings, an exhibition of audacious stroke play that defied logic and physics alike. 

In just 75 minutes of unrelenting carnage, he swung not only his bat but also the match and the series decisively in Pakistan’s favour. A fighting total of 249 was reduced to irrelevance as Afridi’s 45-ball hundred—the second-fastest in one-day internationals—turned a contest into a spectacle and a run chase into a procession. 

A Storm Unleashed

The destruction began as a murmur and escalated into an unstoppable force. In a span of three overs, Pakistan’s score catapulted from nine to 55, an acceleration so outrageous that even a maiden over in between seemed like a statistical error. Fielders became spectators, spectators became worshippers, and bowlers were rendered helpless by a force beyond their control. 

Afridi did not discriminate—good-length balls outside off stump were sent soaring into the upper tiers of the midwicket stand, fuller deliveries vanished into the ether, short balls were pulverized, and anything wide was mercilessly carved apart. It was neither slogging nor a calculated assault; it was pure, instinctive destruction, the kind that only a player of Afridi’s fearless temperament could execute. 

Bowlers barely had time to process the assault before their figures lay in ruins. Lakshmipathy Balaji, Anil Kumble, and Dinesh Mongia all saw their first overs vanish for over 20 runs each. When Afridi swatted Zaheer Khan over midwicket in the eighth over, it marked his 200th six in ODIs—a number as staggering as the rate at which he had amassed them. A 20-ball fifty came first, and then, with an inevitability that seemed almost scripted, he surged to a 45-ball century, equaling Brian Lara’s record for the second-fastest ODI hundred. 

If his legendary 102 off 37 balls in Nairobi back in 1997 had announced his arrival to the cricketing world, this knock served as a reminder—more than a decade later—that he remained an ungovernable force in the game, a disruptor of established conventions. 

And then, just as abruptly as it had begun, the storm subsided. In a moment of sheer irony, Afridi’s first attempt at defence proved his undoing—the ball ricocheted off his boot onto the stumps, ending his innings at 102 off 46 deliveries. But by then, the damage had been done. He walked off leaving his team on the brink of victory, having singlehandedly reduced the required rate to a trivial afterthought. Shoaib Malik and the middle order merely had to complete the formalities. 

Mohammad Kaif’s sensational diving catch to dismiss Yousuf Youhana was a moment of brilliance, but brilliance mattered little in the face of an Afridi hurricane. Pakistan's victory—by five wickets—was inevitable long before the final runs were scored. 

Naved’s Opening Salvo: The Unheralded Spark

While Afridi’s innings will be immortalized in cricketing memory, Pakistan’s victory had been set in motion much earlier—by the incisive new-ball spell of Rana Naved-ul-Hasan. The deceptive swing and skiddy bounce that had eluded India’s bowlers in previous matches were harnessed to perfection by Naved, whose early breakthroughs left India reeling at 26 for 3. 

Sachin Tendulkar, so often India’s anchor in times of crisis, was denied both width and length, suffocated by precise bowling until his patience snapped. Unsure whether to push forward or hang back, he hesitated for a fraction too long, edging a delivery that straightened just enough to Kamran Akmal behind the stumps. 

Virender Sehwag, a batsman who thrives on the audacity of his stroke play, was undone by the very instinct that makes him dangerous. Expecting another outswinger, he played outside the line of a delivery that instead jagged back in, his off-stump flattened before he could react. 

Then came Mahendra Singh Dhoni, whose natural aggression might have been an antidote to the situation. But his response was erratic—flashing at deliveries, connecting a few, missing others, and finally, edging a reckless drive to second slip. Three wickets down inside seven overs, the signs of collapse were all too familiar. 

Dravid and Kaif: Resurrecting a Sinking Ship

Just as Pakistan had found a singular force of destruction in Afridi, India needed an anchor, a figure of stability. And, as he so often had throughout his career, Rahul Dravid answered the call. 

The situation demanded resilience, and Dravid, ever the craftsman, constructed an innings of quiet defiance. Early on, it was all about survival—absorbing pressure, manoeuvring the field, stealing singles. Slowly, the gears shifted. Nudges turned into drives, gaps were exploited, and the run rate climbed in imperceptible increments. His innings was a masterclass in adaptability, a measured effort that transformed from stonewalling into controlled aggression as the innings progressed. 

Alongside him, Kaif played the perfect foil. Where others had struggled against the vagaries of the pitch, he looked effortlessly at home—flicking with precision, bisecting the tightest of gaps, running with a restless energy that put the fielders under constant pressure. By the time he fell, he had stitched together a vital partnership with Dravid, one that ensured India reached a respectable, if not intimidating, 249. 

Under normal circumstances, their 59-run acceleration in the final 7.2 overs would have been celebrated as a match-defining shift. 

But Afridi ensured that such circumstances did not exist. 

A Tale of Two Innings 

The contrast between the two innings was stark. India’s batting was a tale of struggle, adaptation, and eventual consolidation—a narrative built on attrition and hard-earned runs. Pakistan’s, on the other hand, was an explosion, a blinding moment of brilliance that made all previous struggles irrelevant. 

For 50 overs, India had fought and clawed their way to what seemed like a competitive total. And then, in a breathtaking hour of carnage, Afridi erased their work with strokes that defied both gravity and reason. 

Cricket often finds itself caught between eras—between the purists who cherish patience and the revolutionaries who embrace power. On this day, in Kanpur, Afridi reminded the world that the game belongs to both. There is space for the craftsman and the destroyer, for the artist and the gladiator. 

But when Afridi is in the mood, it is only the latter who matters.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar