Tuesday, October 21, 2025

A Test of Endurance: The Inaugural Match at Iqbal Park Stadium

The first-ever Test match at Iqbal Park Stadium in Faisalabad was a contest defined not by dramatic twists or decisive moments but by the weight of attrition. Played on an over-prepared surface that was too slow to assist bowlers yet too true to unsettle batsmen, the match meandered towards an inevitable draw—the thirteenth in a row between these two cricketing powerhouses. It was a contest where patience was the key currency, where stroke-making flourished, yet the spirit of competition was dulled by a pitch that offered neither movement for pacers nor bite for spinners. 

Pakistan, once again fortunate with the toss, capitalized on the benign conditions and made their intentions clear from the outset. The hosts declared at an imposing 503 for eight—their highest total against India—built on the brilliance of Zaheer Abbas and Javed Miandad, whose contrasting yet equally effective styles dismantled India’s bowling attack. Zaheer, often referred to as the ‘Asian Bradman,’ displayed his signature elegance, weaving a magnificent 176 with a tapestry of graceful off-side strokes and punishing pulls. Miandad, normally a batsman of bubbling energy and unpredictability, played an innings of maturity and restraint, grinding out an unbeaten 154 in a display of unrelenting concentration. Together, they constructed a record-breaking 255-run partnership for the fourth wicket—at the time, the highest in Indo-Pak Test history. 

A Faltering Start, a Resilient Recovery

Despite their eventual dominance, Pakistan’s innings was not without its early tribulations. Majid Khan and Sadiq Mohammad provided a solid start, but a brief collapse saw the team stumble from 84 for 1 to 110 for 3. The dismissals of Mushtaq Mohammad and Asif Iqbal in quick succession threatened to undo the initial promise, but Pakistan’s batting depth ensured they regained control. 

Zaheer reached his century in three hours and twenty minutes, accelerating against the second new ball in a breathtaking display of stroke-making. His innings, adorned with two sixes and 24 boundaries, was a masterclass in placement and timing. Miandad, usually an exuberant stroke-player, curbed his natural aggression but remained a constant thorn in India’s side, batting for more than seven hours. His calculated innings included three sixes and thirteen fours, reinforcing his adaptability to different match situations. 

India’s Response: Playing for Survival

Faced with an imposing total, India had little choice but to play for a draw. They executed this task with measured discipline, constructing a series of solid partnerships to keep Pakistan’s bowlers at bay. The bedrock of their response was provided by their two most accomplished batsmen—Sunil Gavaskar and Gundappa Viswanath. Gavaskar, as always, was the picture of technical excellence, laying a steady foundation with a characteristically composed 89. His 101-run partnership with Viswanath for the third wicket was instrumental in blunting Pakistan’s hopes of forcing a result. 

Viswanath, however, was the true architect of India’s survival. His masterful 145—the highest score of his Test career—was a blend of defiance and artistry. In reaching his century, he also etched his name in history as the first Indian batsman to register a hundred against every Test-playing nation. His knock, along with a crucial 166-run partnership with Dilip Vengsarkar, ensured that by the fourth morning, India had all but secured the draw. 

Pakistan’s Defensive Tactics: A Missed Opportunity

Given their substantial first-innings total, Pakistan’s approach in the field was surprisingly defensive. Imran Khan and Sarfraz Nawaz, while menacing in short bursts, were overused, delivering spells that slowed down the over-rate to an uninspiring twelve per hour. The persistent short-pitched bowling—a ploy used frequently in that era—kept the Indian batsmen cautious but also allowed them to settle. 

A particularly curious decision was the delayed introduction of Iqbal Qasim. The left-arm spinner, known for his control and subtle variations, was not called upon until India had surpassed 200—a baffling oversight on a pitch that, although lifeless, might have offered him some assistance. Mushtaq Mohammad, Pakistan’s captain and a leg-spinner himself, bowled predominantly from around the wicket, targeting the rough outside leg stump, a tactic more suited to containment than wicket-taking. 

With the first innings of both teams stretching deep into the fourth day and the run differential a mere 41, the second innings became little more than an academic exercise. Yet, in the limited time available, Zaheer Abbas nearly accomplished the rare feat of twin centuries in a Test match, falling just short, while Asif Iqbal played a sparkling knock to reach a hundred. 

Controversy and Delay: A Heated Exchange

For all the camaraderie that underscored much of the contest, the match was not without controversy. Late on the fourth day, tensions simmered when umpire Shakoor Rana issued a warning to Mohinder Amarnath for running onto the protected area of the pitch. What should have been a routine moment of officiating quickly escalated into a heated confrontation. Sunil Gavaskar, India’s vice-captain, reacted angrily, directing sharp words at the umpire—an outburst that provoked immediate repercussions. 

The following morning, Rana and his colleague refused to take the field, insisting on disciplinary action before resuming play. The delay stretched for eleven minutes before a compromise was reached, allowing the game to continue. Though brief, the episode cast a shadow over an otherwise good-spirited match, highlighting the underlying tensions that often simmered beneath the surface of Indo-Pak encounters. 

A Match That Reflected an Era

The Faisalabad Test encapsulated the essence of cricket between Pakistan and India in the late 20th century—a contest dominated by batsmen, shaped by cautious captaincy, and occasionally marred by moments of acrimony. While the result itself was inconsequential in the larger scheme, the individual performances—Zaheer’s artistry, Miandad’s resilience, Viswanath’s sublime strokeplay—added another chapter to the storied rivalry. 

Yet, the match also exposed a broader trend: an era where flat pitches and conservative tactics often turned high-profile series into predictable stalemates. Though the record books will mark this game as just another drawn Test, it remains, in retrospect, a microcosm of the complex, enthralling, and sometimes frustrating cricketing relationship between these two nations.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

Pakistan Prevails in a Last-Ball Thriller: A One-Run Victory for the Ages

Cricket, in its purest form, is a game of nerve, skill, and moments that define careers. On this fateful day, Pakistan and West Indies delivered a contest for the ages—a battle that ebbed and flowed, culminating in a final-over drama that will be etched in the annals of the sport. With just one run separating victory and defeat, it was a game where fortunes swung wildly, heroes emerged under pressure, and the final delivery decided the fate of two proud cricketing nations. 

Pakistan’s Steady Start and Imran’s Influence

Winning the toss, Pakistan opted to bat, relying on their experienced top order to build a formidable total. The innings found its anchor in skipper Imran Khan, whose leadership was as influential with the bat as it was in his tactical acumen. He stitched together a vital 137-run stand with Ramiz Raja, their measured approach balancing caution with aggression. While Imran dictated the tempo with controlled strokeplay, Ramiz provided stability, ensuring Pakistan laid a strong foundation. 

However, the West Indies bowlers, led by their relentless pace attack, struck at crucial intervals, preventing Pakistan from running away with the game. The total, though competitive, did not seem insurmountable—until the drama of the second innings unfolded. 

Richardson’s Heroics and West Indies’ Grit

The chase began in disaster for West Indies. Reduced to 57 for 5, their hopes seemed all but extinguished. But cometh the hour, cometh the man—captain Richie Richardson rose to the occasion, crafting one of the most spirited knocks of the tournament. His sublime 122 off 121 balls was a masterclass in resilience, a captain’s innings that turned despair into belief. 

In Jeff Dujon, Richardson found a worthy ally, and together they stitched a remarkable 154-run partnership. As the overs ticked down, West Indies clawed their way back, inching closer to what had once seemed an improbable victory. 

A Heart-Stopping Finale

With just 10 runs required off the final over, all eyes turned to Waqar Younis, entrusted with the task of defending Pakistan’s slender total. The equation quickly narrowed as Ian Bishop smashed a towering six over long-on, tilting the scales in West Indies’ favour. With three balls remaining, the equation read two runs to win. Silence gripped the stadium as tension crackled in the air. 

Waqar, undeterred by the pressure, produced two dot balls, setting up an all-or-nothing final delivery. The moment arrived. The run-up, the release, the ball crashing into the stumps—Bishop was clean bowled. Pakistan erupted in celebration; West Indies stood in stunned disbelief. The match was won by a solitary run, a margin so razor-thin that it perfectly encapsulated the drama of the sport. 

A Game for the Ages

This match was more than just a contest—it was a spectacle of perseverance, resilience, and the unrelenting spirit of cricket. Pakistan’s victory was a testament to their composure under pressure, while West Indies’ fightback showcased the heart of true champions. In the end, there could only be one winner, but both teams left an indelible mark on the history of the game. 

Such moments remind us why cricket is more than just a sport—it is a theatre of dreams, where every run, every ball, and every decision can alter destiny.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

Monday, October 20, 2025

A Gamble Gone Wrong: How Sri Lanka Outplayed West Indies in the 1995 Singer Champions Trophy Final

Cricket has a peculiar way of rewarding the bold and punishing the overconfident. On a scorching Friday afternoon at the Sharjah Cricket Association Stadium, Richie Richardson made a decision that would haunt the West Indies for the rest of the day. Winning the toss in the 1995 Singer Champions Trophy Final, he opted to field first—a calculated risk, but one that would prove disastrous against a Sri Lankan side that was gaining momentum on the international stage. What followed was a masterclass in batting, a dramatic collapse, and an eventual triumph that solidified Sri Lanka’s growing reputation in world cricket. 

Sri Lanka’s Commanding Start: Setting the Foundation

The Sri Lankan innings began with precision and patience as Sanath Jayasuriya  and  Roshan Mahanama  set a steady foundation. The West Indian bowlers struggled for an early breakthrough, watching helplessly as the openers manoeuvred the ball around Sharjah’s dry surface. Their partnership flourished past the century mark, and just as the West Indies looked increasingly desperate, they finally struck. 

At the ominous score of 111, Jayasuriya fell for 57 off 82 balls, courtesy of a sharp catch by Ottis Gibson off  Anderson Cummins. Yet, the dismissal did little to derail Sri Lanka’s intent. Mahanama, in sublime touch, went on to make 66, while the ever-dangerous Aravinda de Silva  played an explosive cameo, smashing a rapid 50 off just 35 balls. Their controlled aggression ensured Sri Lanka maintained a run rate of around 5.5 per over, keeping them firmly ahead in the contest. 

At 196 for three, Sri Lanka seemed poised for a massive total. However, cricket often twists narratives in unexpected ways, and the West Indies found their window of opportunity. 

The West Indian Fightback: Gibson’s Fiery Spell

Just when Sri Lanka looked set to accelerate, Ottis Gibson changed the complexion of the game. His pace and movement rattled the Sri Lankan middle order, sparking a collapse that saw Arjuna Ranatunga, Hashan Tillakaratne, Asanka Gurusinha, and Chandika Hathurusingha fall in quick succession. From a dominant 215 for four, Sri Lanka stumbled to 269 for eight, losing wickets at crucial moments. 

As the innings neared its end, an unusual interruption added to the drama. With Sri Lanka at 262 for seven, match referee Raman Subba Rao  surprisingly called for a lunch break with seven balls still remaining. The pause momentarily halted Sri Lanka’s momentum, but when play resumed, Gibson struck twice more, while Eric Upashantha  was run out. The innings concluded at 273, a challenging but chaseable target given West Indies’ batting firepower. 

West Indies Falter in the Chase: A Story of Missteps

What should have been a determined chase quickly turned into a nightmare. Eric Upashantha, playing only his second ODI, struck early, dismissing Stuart Williams and Brian Lara in quick succession. Losing Lara, their talisman, was a body blow from which the West Indies never truly recovered. 

Sherwin Campbell and Richie Richardson  attempted to stabilize the innings, but their partnership ended in disaster when a mix-up resulted in Richardson’s unfortunate run-out. As if the pressure wasn’t enough, Muttiah Muralitharan then delivered a moment of magic, clean bowling Campbell with a delivery that left the batsman clueless. At 88 for five, the West Indies were in dire straits. 

There was a flicker of resistance as Shivnarine Chanderpaul and Roger Harper put together 53 runs for the sixth wicket, rotating strike smartly and delaying the inevitable. But Sri Lanka had all the answers. Kumar Dharmasena  ended their fightback, dismissing Chanderpaul, while Muralitharan continued his dominance, catching Harper off his own bowling. 

At 156 for seven, the writing was on the wall. The lower order crumbled, and at  177 for nine, Sri Lanka was just one wicket away from victory. Yet, the final wicket would not fall easily. 

Gibson’s Late Resistance: A Last Stand in Vain

Despite the bleak situation, Ottis Gibson refused to go down without a fight. Complementing his stellar bowling performance, he launched a late counterattack alongside Hamish Anthony, adding a defiant **43-run stand off just 32 balls. Gibson’s 33 runs, featuring a six and three boundaries, injected momentary excitement into an otherwise one-sided chase. But the resistance was short-lived—Dharmasena struck again, dismissing Anthony to bring an end to the innings at 223. 

With that, Sri Lanka had clinched the title by 50 runs, a victory that was both convincing and symbolic of their rising status in world cricket. 

Conclusion: A Defining Moment in Sri Lankan Cricket

The 1995 Singer Champions Trophy final was a tale of two halves—Sri Lanka’s dominance in the first, and the West Indies’ fleeting comeback in the second. Richardson’s gamble at the toss proved costly, and while there were glimpses of brilliance from Gibson, Chanderpaul, and Harper, the West Indies never truly recovered from their top-order failures. 

For Sri Lanka, this victory was more than just a trophy—it was a statement of intent. A team once considered underdogs had now outplayed one of cricket’s most storied teams on a grand stage. It was a precursor to even greater triumphs, paving the way for their historic 1996 World Cup win. 

For the West Indies, the loss served as a reminder that their golden era was fading. The Caribbean dominance of the 1970s and 1980s had begun to erode, and this defeat at Sharjah was another indication that a changing of the guard was imminent in world cricket.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

Wasim Akram’s Monumental 257: A Record-Breaking Masterclass in Adversity

Test cricket welcomed its 77th venue, and Pakistan its 16th, with a stadium so newly reconstructed that it had yet to host a first-class match. It was on this fresh, untested stage that Wasim Akram crafted an innings of staggering brilliance, an exhibition of power and resilience that etched his name into the annals of cricketing history. His unbeaten 257, a marathon spanning eight hours and ten minutes across 363 deliveries, remains the highest score by a No. 8 batsman in Test cricket. A feat of audacity and discipline, his innings included 12 sixes—eclipsing Wally Hammond’s long-standing record of ten set in 1932-33—and 22 boundaries, each stroke a statement of intent.

Perhaps even more remarkable was the partnership that Wasim forged with Saqlain Mushtaq. Their unbroken stand of 313 runs, spanning 110 overs, rewrote history by surpassing the previous eighth-wicket record of 246 set by England’s Les Ames and Gubby Allen in 1931. It was a partnership born from adversity. At 237 for seven, Pakistan trailed Zimbabwe by 138, the prospect of a substantial first-innings deficit looming ominously. Yet, in a transformation both improbable and emphatic, Wasim and Saqlain turned despair into dominance, delivering Pakistan an eventual lead of 178.

Challenges and Conditions

Victory, however, remained elusive. Bad light curtailed play on the fourth evening, and rain delayed the proceedings on the final morning. Yet, it was the pitch—described by Dave Houghton as the slowest he had ever encountered—that proved Pakistan’s greatest obstacle. Offering neither bounce nor lateral movement, the surface neutralized the traditional weapons of Wasim and Waqar Younis, their attempts at reverse swing thwarted by the locally manufactured Grays balls, which they openly criticized.

Debutant Shahid Nazir, however, found early swing and capitalized on the conditions, his five-wicket haul reducing Zimbabwe to a precarious 142 for six. The revival came through Grant Flower and Paul Strang, whose stand of 131 showcased technical finesse and defiance. Flower’s century, crafted with his characteristic off-drives, was a masterclass in composure. Strang, driving with equal assurance, seemed destined for his maiden Test hundred before his brother Bryan joined him, their 87-run partnership delaying Pakistan’s charge. Strang ultimately reached 106 not out, a gritty innings spanning five hours, though not without fortune—he was dropped thrice.

Wasim’s Brilliance with the Willow

Pakistan’s innings was marred by a series of injudicious strokes from the top order, leaving them teetering at 183 for six. It was at this juncture that Wasim Akram, appalled by his teammates' recklessness, assumed a mantle of responsibility. He first stitched together a 54-run stand with Moin Khan before Paul Strang—by now the 18th cricketer to score a hundred and claim a five-wicket haul in the same Test—dismissed Moin.

What followed was a revelation. Wasim, often lauded for his artistry with the ball rather than the bat, demonstrated an application few had credited him with. Offering only one chance—when on 145—he meticulously constructed his innings, negotiating the spin of Strang and Andrew Whittall from the crease. He was ruthless against overpitched deliveries, driving them with commanding authority. His sixes, most of which soared over the straight boundaries, were a testament to his effortless power.

Saqlain, for his part, displayed remarkable fortitude, weathering the storm for seven hours to contribute a crucial 79. His ability to endure allowed Wasim the freedom to play his natural game, the duo’s contrasting styles melding into an alliance of attrition and aggression.

The Final Day and Zimbabwe’s Resilience

By the final day, Zimbabwe’s path to survival had been eased by an unfortunate collision between Wasim and a boundary board, rendering him unable to bowl more than five overs. With the slow surface negating substantial turn, Saqlain toiled through 40 overs, but his lines were often too wide to trouble the batsmen. The absence of the injured Mushtaq Ahmed was deeply felt. Once again, Grant Flower and Dave Houghton emerged as Zimbabwe’s saviours, with Andy Flower consuming three hours for a painstaking 18, each minute another brick in the wall of defiance.

Conclusion

In the end, the contest was a paradox—a match where individual brilliance reshaped history, yet the limitations of the conditions and circumstances conspired against a decisive outcome. Wasim Akram’s innings was a reminder of his multifaceted genius, a blend of flair and discipline rarely witnessed. While the match concluded without a winner, it left behind a narrative rich in drama, records, and the enduring spirit of Test cricket.

Thank You 

Faisal Caesar 

Sunday, October 19, 2025

Test Twenty: The Gimmick That Could Finish What T20 Started

Cricket has always evolved — sometimes gracefully, sometimes by force. But the unveiling of Test Twenty on October 16, conceived by sports entrepreneur Gaurav Bahirvani of The One One Six Network, feels less like evolution and more like erosion. Sold as a revolutionary “fourth format,” this new hybrid — part Test, part T20 — could end up stripping cricket of the very thing that made it beautiful: its patience, its poetry, its purpose.

A Test in Name Only

On paper, Test Twenty sounds clever: 80 overs in total, two innings of 20 overs per side, all wrapped up neatly in a single day. It promises the strategic nuance of Tests and the entertainment punch of T20s. The results — win, loss, draw, or tie — mimic tradition, while the structure is designed for the modern attention span.

But let’s be honest: this isn’t a reinvention of Test cricket. It’s a repackaged short-form product dressed up in nostalgia. What makes a Test isn’t just two innings and whites — it’s the slow burn, the psychological tug-of-war, the narrative that stretches and morphs over five days. Compressing that into a few hours doesn’t preserve the format’s soul; it suffocates it.

The Fast-Fooding of a Fine Meal

We’ve been down this road before. T20 was meant to be a supplement, not a substitute. It was the dessert that ended up replacing the meal. The explosion of franchise cricket — from the IPL to The Hundred — has already tilted the balance irreversibly toward entertainment over endurance. Players now retire from Tests at 30 to chase league contracts; boards prioritize broadcast windows over bilateral series.

Now, Test Twenty threatens to finish what T20 started — to turn even the last bastion of cricket’s authenticity into another bite-sized commodity. The message is clear: if something doesn’t fit the digital clock, it doesn’t deserve to exist.

The Allure of Technology, The Absence of Soul

The format’s biggest boast is its AI Discovery Engine, a data-driven system using motion sensors and video analysis to scout talent “impartially.” It’s a fascinating tool — but it misunderstands what cricket’s romance is built on. Algorithms can identify technique; they can’t identify temperament. Data can measure bat speed; it can’t capture the quiet defiance of a batter surviving the last hour in fading light.

Cricket’s legacy is human. It thrives in imperfection — in the missed edge, the fading pitch, the weary spell on the fifth morning. To replace that with AI-driven metrics is to miss the point entirely.

Innovation or Invasion?

The first Test Twenty season, set for January 2026, will feature six global franchises — three from Indian cities, and three from Dubai, London, and the United States. Predictably, the emphasis is on global reach and television appeal. Once again, the game’s guardians are confusing growth with glamour.

Cricket doesn’t need another format; it needs conviction. Test cricket doesn’t need a facelift; it needs faith. The answer to declining Test interest isn’t to dilute it — it’s to defend it, to invest in it, to tell its stories better.

What’s Left When Everything’s Shortened?

Test Twenty might market itself as innovation, but it risks being an obituary. Test cricket isn’t just a format — it’s the conscience of the sport. It’s where cricket’s mythology lives, where legends are forged not by sixes but by survival.

We’ve already lost enough of the game’s soul to the ticking clock of commercial convenience. The question now is simple: when every version of cricket is fast, who will still have the patience to watch the game unfold slowly — beautifully — as it once did?

Thank You 

Faisal Caesar