Sachin Tendulkar: The Sunset of a Cricketing Legend

It is over.

Today, I witnessed the fading light of a cricketing colossus. The setting of one of the game’s most devoted students—a man who bore the legacy of past greats with an almost sacred sense of duty. Yet, this is not a sunset to be cherished. It is not an evening for fireworks and festivities. For what I witnessed was not merely a retirement; it was the end of an era—the era of Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar.

For those who revere Test cricket, the departure of an iconic figure is never just a statistic in history. It is a loss, a void, an absence that leaves the air heavy with silence. The symphony has ceased mid-performance, and the orchestra stands still, unsure whether to play on or mourn the maestro who once led them.

My relationship with Tendulkar spans over two decades—a complex bond woven from admiration, frustration, and reluctant reverence. I have resented the deification that surrounded him. I have argued against his pedestal in the pantheon of cricketing gods. I have debated his standing with those who swore by his greatness. And yet, at times, I have found myself compelled to surrender to his genius, nodding in silent acknowledgement of his unparalleled mastery. I saw him transform from a wide-eyed prodigy into a figure of towering influence, a name whispered with awe in the corridors of cricketing history.

At his peak, he evoked the fearless dominance of Viv Richards and the flawless technique of Sunil Gavaskar. Yet, what set him apart was not just his artistry but the sheer weight of expectation he bore. Every time he walked out to bat, he did not just carry a bat—he carried the heartbeat of a billion people. He was more than a cricketer; he was a symbol of hope, an anchor in the storm for a nation that found solace in his presence at the crease.

And yet, I refuse to call him the ‘God of Cricket.’

No, I do not place him above Bradman, Sobers, or Richards. But to deny his significance would be an injustice to the sport itself. Tendulkar redefined cricketing excellence, shattered records, and sculpted innings of such brilliance that time seemed to pause in reverence. For 24 years, his name was synonymous with the rhythm of Indian cricket, his batting the pulse that dictated the game’s heartbeat.

He was not just among the greats; he was among the greatest.

I will forever remember the elegance of his straight drives, the effortless grace of his cover drives, and the sheer authority of his pull shots. His back-foot punches through point and backward point were sheer poetry—fluid, precise, devastating. If there were ever indulgences worth forsaking, I would have abandoned them all just to watch him craft another masterpiece.

Cricket fans like me do not just watch the game; we live it through the memories of players like Tendulkar. His innings were not mere scores on a scoreboard—they were tapestries woven into our lives, stitched together with childhood wonder, teenage excitement, and adult nostalgia. We marked milestones through his centuries, celebrated his triumphs as our own, and felt the sting of his dismissals like personal heartbreaks.

Tendulkar was not just a cricketer—he was an experience, a phenomenon that transcended sport. His batting was a refuge, a momentary escape from the uncertainties of life. He did not merely wield a bat; he wielded dreams, hopes, and aspirations. Few athletes in history have shouldered the expectations of an entire nation with such grace, humility, and determination.

And now, he is gone.

With Tendulkar’s retirement, the world of Test cricket is undeniably poorer. The departure of a legend is not just the closing of a career; it is the fading of an age. An age where batting was a delicate craft, where patience was rewarded, where skill triumphed over brute force. It is the end of a time when artistry and resilience walked hand in hand.

The game will move on, as it always does. New heroes will emerge, new records will be set, and new names will be etched in history. But the void left by Tendulkar will remain—a silent reminder of a time when cricket was graced by a batsman whose presence turned stadiums into temples of devotion.

Thank you, Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar, for the two decades of magic. Thank you for the countless moments of joy, heartbreak, and wonder.

Cricket will go on, but it will never be the same again.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

Bangladesh's Resurgence: The Rise of the Tigers and the Dawn of a New Era

The last ball had been delivered. McClenaghan charged in with a short-pitched delivery, and Sohag Gazi sent it soaring over the slips with a deft uppercut that raced to the boundary. The crowd at Fatullah Stadium, teetering on the edge of their seats, erupted in ecstatic applause. Bangladesh had done the unthinkable—they had whitewashed New Zealand 3-0. The “Banglawash” was complete. As waves of euphoria rippled through the stadium and into the heart of the nation, it was a rare, poignant moment in Bangladeshi cricket—a victory to savour, a triumph to remember.

Few dared to dream of such an outcome at the outset of the series, especially given the odds stacked against Bangladesh. New Zealand had set a daunting 300-plus target in the final ODI, a score that would unnerve most teams. Bangladesh, though improving, were not traditionally known for chasing down such totals, especially against higher-ranked teams. Yet, a shift had been taking place—a silent but profound transformation rooted in self-belief. In recent years, this Bangladesh side had shown glimpses of defiance and grit, but now they were starting to finish the job. This was the second consecutive “Banglawash” they’d inflicted on New Zealand, a testament to a new mentality, a refusal to go down without a fight.

This transformation was all the more remarkable in light of Bangladesh’s challenges. Just before the ODI series began, Shakib Al Hasan, Bangladesh’s star all-rounder and a linchpin in their 4-0 series win over New Zealand in 2010, was sidelined by dengue fever. His absence raised the all-too-familiar question: Could Bangladesh pull through without their talisman? In the past, a missing star often spelt trouble for the Tigers. However, the team’s bench strength was beginning to look different. Emerging players were stepping up, bridging the gaps and proving their mettle on the field.

Naeem Islam filled Shakib's role with calm, clinical precision. When Tamim Iqbal was unavailable for the final ODI, young guns Shamsur Rahman and Ziaur Rahman rose to the occasion, ensuring that Bangladesh’s momentum remained undeterred. This newfound resilience was refreshing. Where Bangladesh once struggled to maintain composure in high-stakes matches, this group exhibited an unfamiliar steadiness. 

Central to this evolution was skipper Mushfiqur Rahim. Unwavering under pressure and willing to throw young players into crucial situations, Mushfiqur embodied the spirit of a new Bangladesh—determined, strategic, and unafraid. His calculated risks paid off time and again during the series. From opening the bowling with Sohag Gazi to trusting Mominul Haque’s occasional spin at key moments to backing Rubel Hossain’s firepower against Corey Anderson in the first ODI, Mushfiqur’s moves revealed an astute cricketing mind at work.

Mushfiqur’s tactical acumen shone in his field placements and timing. Recognizing the flow of the game, he adjusted fielders to choke the scoring rate and leveraged his bowlers’ strengths against the Kiwis. These decisions showcased a captain with a shrewd eye and a patient understanding of the game. But as with any team on the rise, the real test lies ahead. Challenges abroad will be fiercer, the margins thinner, and the pressures manifold. In these unfamiliar arenas, Mushfiqur’s character, and that of his young Tigers, will be tested.

For now, though, Bangladesh rejoiced in the moment. In Fatullah, as cheers echoed and flags waved, the nation saw a new vigour, a pride rekindled in their team. The Tigers had made their statement—undaunted, undeterred, and ever determined to grow stronger.

 

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

Embracing Resilience: Bangladesh's Test Evolution Amidst Unfinished Business

The final day of the second Test match between Bangladesh and New Zealand was primed for an enthralling contest. With a series win within reach, Bangladesh seemed ready to press for victory. However, rain intervened, washing away the final day and leaving fans disappointed as the match—and the two-Test series—concluded in a draw. Frustrated fans lamented the untimely downpour, seeing it as a lost opportunity rather than a reprieve. This moment reflects a noticeable shift: the expectations of Bangladesh’s cricket supporters are evolving, mirroring the growth of the national team itself.

In recent years, Bangladesh’s progress in limited-overs cricket has been clear, with impressive performances since 2012 propelling them toward becoming a competitive side. Yet, in Test cricket, they remained underachievers, often crumbling under the demands of the five-day format. They would show flashes of potential, only to collapse in a manner that reignited doubts about their capacity for the game’s longest format. However, this series against New Zealand marks a slow but undeniable shift—Bangladesh is beginning to learn the rhythm and discipline of Test cricket.

Historically, Bangladesh’s Test batting has suffered from lapses in discipline. Quick collapses followed initial breakthroughs, and their batsmen often struggled against daunting totals. Yet, this year, a new resilience has emerged, evident in their performances in Galle, Chittagong, and Dhaka. These glimpses of grit suggest that Bangladesh’s Test squad is beginning to adapt to the rigours of five-day matches, embracing the patience and tactical depth required for success.

The first Test in Chittagong set the tone, with New Zealand’s tail producing a substantial total that would have rattled previous Bangladeshi line-ups. Bangladesh’s openers departed cheaply, leaving them at a disadvantage. But instead of folding, the middle order fought back, securing a lead in the first innings and eventually holding out for a draw. This composure carried over to the second Test in Mirpur, where Bangladeshi batsmen demonstrated not only determination but restraint. Past teams would often succumb to rash shots, but here, discipline prevailed, signaling a promising development.

Bangladesh’s 0-0 draw holds significance beyond the scoreboard. Their resilience and tenacity were remarkable, and perhaps the most valuable takeaway was the emergence of Mominul Haque. Mominul has claimed the critical number-four position with a blend of skill, calmness, and maturity that belies his years. In both matches, his fearless approach became a source of reassurance for his teammates. His contributions fortified the middle order, and in doing so, he instilled belief across the squad. Bangladesh’s consistency throughout the series, a rarity in their Test history, demonstrates that they are slowly breaking free from the “ghost of inconsistency” that has plagued them for years.

Though their opportunities to play Test cricket remain limited, and they continue to contend with obstacles on and off the field, Bangladesh’s performance against New Zealand deserves recognition. It wasn’t merely a routine series but a true contest—an exchange of equal grit and skill, made possible by Bangladesh’s newfound resolve.

So, while rain robbed fans of a conclusive result, it couldn’t dampen the spirit and potential Bangladesh displayed. This series marked a vital step forward—a testament to their growth in the Test format, and a harbinger of the progress to come.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

Unleashing Potential: Sohag Gazi's Historic Performance Marks a New Era for Bangladesh Cricket

Corey Anderson, New Zealand's left-arm medium pacer, raised a spirited appeal for leg-before against Mominul Haque. When the umpire’s finger rose, it signalled the end of one of Bangladesh’s finest Test innings, as well as an inspiring 121-run stand between Mominul and Mushfiqur Rahim. The very next over, Doug Bracewell delivered a fearsome short ball to Mushfiqur, and the Bangladeshi captain had no answer. The quick wickets brought back memories of familiar collapses, the kind that have too often defined Bangladesh’s Test innings. Nasir Hossain, renowned for his calculated aggression, was left to continue his charge—but he needed someone with equal resolve to see him through.

In past Tests, Mahmudullah often fulfilled this role, coming in at number seven or eight, stabilizing partnerships with careful strike rotation and flashes of aggression. Typically, Bangladesh selected a specialist batsman at number eight, adding depth to their lineup. But in the Chittagong Test, the team made a bold move: Mahmudullah was left out, and they entrusted all-rounder Sohag Gazi with the responsibility. Although Gazi’s bowling had earned him his international reputation, his domestic batting prowess was well known. It was a test of his mettle, and what followed was nothing short of extraordinary.

The next day began with a setback, as Nasir mistimed a pull shot, and Bangladesh ended the day still trailing New Zealand by 89 runs. Early on the fourth morning, Abdur Razzak fell quickly, leaving a useful lead tantalizingly close for New Zealand. But then, Gazi transformed the narrative, digging in and taking on the Kiwi bowlers with audacity and skill.

It was a masterclass of counter-attacking batting. Gazi’s pugnacious cover drives, deft late cuts, and thumping slogs through mid-wicket stunned the Kiwis, who watched their advantage slip away as the lead narrowed. Together with Robiul Islam, Gazi crafted a 105-run ninth-wicket partnership, dragging Bangladesh into the lead. His hundred, a remarkable feat under immense pressure, turned the spotlight onto his often-overlooked batting abilities. Yet his contributions were far from over.

When New Zealand resumed batting in their second innings, their aggressive approach suggested an imminent declaration, with the lead nearing a safe total. But Gazi, unwilling to relent, took up the ball and orchestrated a spell that would enter the annals of Test cricket history. On a pitch offering little assistance to spinners, Gazi’s skill and guile came to life.

His first scalp was the formidable Brendon McCullum, whom he bowled just as the Kiwis were building dangerous momentum. Then, in a thrilling turn, Gazi unleashed a devastating over. Corey Anderson was the first to go, trapped lbw, and BJ Watling, who had scored a century in the first innings, soon edged a sharply bouncing delivery to the wicketkeeper. Bracewell arrived at the crease, tasked with thwarting Gazi’s hat-trick attempt, but Gazi had other plans. He sent down a vicious arm-ball that glanced off Bracewell’s bat, deflecting from the wicketkeeper's gloves to slip, where Shakib Al Hasan snatched it with a one-handed leap. The stadium erupted. Gazi’s feat—a hundred, a five-wicket haul, and a hat-trick in the same Test—made him the first cricketer in history to achieve such a milestone.

Sohag Gazi’s story is one of determination and adaptability. Although he may not have the natural flair of Nasir Hossain or Mominul Haque, Gazi's grit and tireless work ethic have fueled his rapid growth since his debut against the West Indies. He may not yet be fully established in the team, but his fearless display at Chittagong showed a cricketer of extraordinary potential, a player willing to fight until the end. 

In the years ahead, Gazi's future appears bright. His performance not only underscored his own promise but also sent a clear message to the cricketing world: Bangladesh’s players are learning, growing, and achieving, slowly carving out a place for themselves in the Test arena. With hard work and resilience, the Tigers are laying the groundwork for a new era in their cricketing journey.

 

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

From Doubt to Determination: Bangladesh's Resurgence in Test Cricket

In the world of Test cricket, there’s a familiar refrain: “Who cares about Bangladesh?”The question, so often tossed around by non-Bangladeshi fans, reflects a longstanding scepticism. Since gaining Test status, the Tigers have endured years of disheartening defeats, each one reinforcing doubts about their place in the longest format. Critics have seldom shown sympathy, pointing out the lack of a consistent Test temperament and, at times, questioning the very credibility of Bangladesh as a Test-playing nation.

Yet, as time turns and experience grows, so too does potential. Change, after all, is inevitable, and Bangladesh has slowly but surely been learning the art of Test cricket. Thirteen years into their Test journey, some may wonder why progress has been slow, but growth is rarely linear. For Bangladesh, it’s been the slow-and-steady path, a deliberate effort to build a foundation that can eventually stand tall in the crucible of five-day cricket.

This cautious journey was evident in their recent Test series against New Zealand at Chittagong. As usual, the series drew little interest from international fans and was marred by the usual trolling of Bangladeshi cricketers on social media. But the Tigers responded in the best way they knew—on the field, with gritty and determined displays. 

New Zealand, after a formidable start, built an imposing first-innings total, with BJ Watling and Trent Boult’s last-wicket partnership dashing early Bangladeshi hopes. Facing such a total, Bangladesh's reputation suggested they might crumble. Early in their first innings, the script appeared to repeat itself, with both openers dismissed quickly, leaving the Tigers reeling at 8-2. But then, Mominul Haque, a young talent from Cox’s Bazar, took centre stage, picked over the more experienced Naeem Islam, and his response was emphatic. He shifted gears, punishing the New Zealand attack with striking ease, his offside stroke play a visual delight reminiscent of Kumar Sangakkara’s graceful precision.

While Mominul dazzled, doubts loomed—Bangladesh’s batsmen are known for bright starts that often fizzle out. But this time, Mominul found steady support from debutant Marshall Ayub, and a budding partnership helped steady the innings. As the match progressed, there were moments of peril; in the third morning, Marshall and Shakib fell in quick succession, reigniting fears of another collapse. Yet, a crucial partnership between Mominul and Mushfiqur Rahim followed, as the pair put on a 121-run stand for the fifth wicket, steering Bangladesh into safer waters. Mominul was denied a double century, and Mushfiq fell to a searing delivery from Doug Bracewell, yet Bangladesh resisted another collapse. Nasir Hossain and Sohag Gazi held firm with a 70-run stand, and although Nasir fell late in the day, Bangladesh's resolve was evident.

The fourth day saw Bangladesh’s tail wag ferociously. Sohag Gazi scored a spectacular century, while Robiul Islam provided a steady 33, propelling Bangladesh to a lead of 32. What began as a hope for survival became a memorable fightback, drawing Bangladesh close to a historic result. The final day held its own share of drama as Sohag Gazi etched his name in the record books with a hat-trick, becoming the first player in Test history to score a century, take a five-wicket haul, and secure a hat-trick in the same match. It was a remarkable feat, a gift for fans celebrating Durga Puja and Eid alike.

Beyond individual brilliance, something deeper has shifted in Bangladesh’s approach. Historically, the weight of a large total would have triggered panic, scattering partnerships and inviting collapses. But in Chittagong, Bangladesh’s batsmen showed newfound composure, and understanding when to attack and when to defend. The calmness under pressure, and the resilience to hold partnerships together—are qualities that signal a turning tide. Bangladesh may still have a way to go, but performances like these hint at a future where they can stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the world's Test elite.

Such spirited displays serve as a reminder of the importance of nurturing emerging cricketing nations. A few months ago, Zimbabwe outplayed Pakistan in an upset victory, yet their opportunities to play Test cricket remain limited. The broader cricketing world must realize that genuine growth cannot be confined to T20 tournaments or fleeting ODI series. Development should mean giving all teams, including those ranked lower, a fair shot at competing in Tests against the best.

Bangladesh’s journey in Test cricket underscores the value of patience and persistence. If cricket’s custodians are truly invested in a global game, they must ensure that opportunities for Test cricket are extended to all. For now, Chittagong serves as a reminder that Bangladesh is no longer content to simply participate—they are here to compete, and in time, to conquer.

 

Thank You

Faisal Caesar