JournalismPakistan.com | Published January 12, 2025 at 06:04 pm | Dr. Nauman Niaz (TI)
Join our WhatsApp channelThis insightful article by Dr. Nauman Niaz is the second and last part of a compelling series that delves deep into the intricate world of Pakistan's Test cricket. Through his expert analysis and profound understanding of the game, Dr. Niaz unpacks the historical evolution, defining moments, and the current state of Test cricket in Pakistan. Readers can look forward to a comprehensive exploration of the challenges, triumphs, and nuances that have shaped Pakistan’s journey in the longest format of the sport.
ISLAMABAD—The decline of Pakistan’s Test team evokes an aching parallel to the once-mighty West Indies, whose fall from their imperious heights became one of cricket’s most lamentable tragedies. Both narratives unfold as tragedies of neglect, mediocrity, and the systemic erosion of merit. Yet, Pakistan's plight is uniquely its own, a tale marred by an unwillingness to adapt, a culture steeped in nepotism, and a resistance to the transformative demands of modern cricket.
In its heyday, Pakistan cricket was defined by an unpredictable brilliance, a volatile cocktail of raw talent, and an intractable spirit. Like the West Indies of the 1980s, Pakistan too evoked awe, its cricketers conjuring magic that often defied rationality. But brilliance untethered from structure is ephemeral, and like the West Indies heroes, Pakistan has failed to institutionalize its success. The result is a slow, agonizing descent into mediocrity, a state not born of inherent incapacity but of systemic failure to nurture potential and evolve with the times.
The Culture of Mediocrity and Nepotism
At the heart of this decline lies a culture of mediocrity, perpetuated by nepotism and a player-centric approach that prioritizes transient individual excellence over collective progress. The refusal to encompass merit has created a system where the deserving are overshadowed by the well-connected. Decisions are made not with foresight but with favor, leaving the team bereft of the structural integrity required to sustain success. This insidious culture, resistant to accountability and reform, has become a blight within the system, stifling the growth of young talent and alienating those who possess the vision and expertise to chart a new course.
Resistance to Change
Resistance to change is a universal human frailty, but in Pakistan cricket, it assumes a particularly destructive form. The game's evolution demands adaptation to modern tools—real-time data analysis, match-ups, artificial intelligence, biomechanics, and kinesiology. These are not just luxuries but imperatives for teams aspiring to thrive in the contemporary cricketing landscape. Yet, the Pakistan Cricket Board (PCB) clings to antiquated methods, its priorities skewed towards superficial solutions rather than substantive reform.
Why does such resistance persist? It stems, perhaps, from a fear of the unknown, a reluctance to relinquish the illusion of control that traditional systems provide. It may also be rooted in a deep-seated insecurity, a fear that accepting modernity might expose the inadequacies of those entrusted with the game's stewardship. Whatever the cause, the result is a paralyzing inertia that prevents progress and perpetuates decline.
The Failure to Modernize
The PCB's failure to integrate modern technology and methodologies is emblematic of a larger institutional malaise. In an era where biomechanics and kinesiology are transforming the understanding of player fitness and performance, Pakistan lags woefully behind. The absence of a state-of-the-art medical panel, staffed by qualified experts and informed by real-time data, reflects a broader indifference to scientific and technological advancement. This is not only a failure of resources but of vision, a refusal to see cricket as a science as much as an art, a discipline that demands precision, innovation, and a relentless quest for excellence.
Contrast this with India, whose cricketing renaissance has been built on a foundation of structured training, quality infrastructure, and an unwavering commitment to merit. India’s incorporation of data analytics, biomechanics, and technology has not only enhanced player performance but has also institutionalised success. Their domestic structure, from grassroots development to the Indian Premier League, serves as a breeding ground for excellence, a model that Pakistan would do well to emulate. In contrast, Pakistan Super League spurred to world recognition in the first three editions before politicking, casualness, apathy, and it being run by mediocre saw plunging, its brand regressing, it once promised to become.
The Way Forward: Merit, Technology, and Structure
If Pakistan cricket is to rise from its ashes, it must begin by dismantling the culture of mediocrity and nepotism that has ensconced itself within its ranks. Merit must become the guiding principle, and decisions must be informed by data, expertise, and a commitment to long-term progress. Integrating technology is not optional, it is essential. Biomechanics and kinesiology must be at the forefront of player development, not only to enhance performance but to prevent injuries and prolong careers. Real-time data and AI-driven analytics can revolutionise selection processes, warranting that only the most capable individuals are entrusted with cricket’s future.
Infrastructure must be overhauled, with investments in quality facilities and structured training programs that prepare players for the demands of modern cricket. This requires not just financial resources but a shift in mindset, a recognition that success is built not on sporadic brilliance but on sustained effort, planning, and execution.
A Philosophical Closing
The decline of Pakistan’s Test team is not just a cricketing crisis, it is a reflection of a broader existential struggle, a failure to reconcile the past with the present, tradition with progress. Like the West Indies, Pakistan stands at a crossroads, its future dependent on its willingness to adapt, to confront uncomfortable truths, and to accept the transformative possibilities of modernity. But change, like cricket, requires courage, a courage that overrides the fear of failure, the inertia of complacency, and the allure of the status quo. Without it, Pakistan cricket risks becoming a relic of its past, a once-great force, now adrift in mediocrity. The question, then, is not whether change is possible, but whether Pakistan is willing to choose it. For in that choice lies the essence of all progress, both in cricket and in life.
The Culture of Mediocrity and Intolerance in Pakistan Cricket: A Philosophical Reflection
In Pakistan cricket, there exists a tragic paradox: a nation that reveres its cricketers, yet disdainfully alienates its greatest ones; a system that celebrates brilliance on the surface but entrenches mediocrity beneath it. For decades, Pakistan cricket has been a battleground where power struggles between players and administrators overshadow the very essence of the game. This is not only a failure of governance or personalities but a deeper cultural malaise, a toxic brew of intolerance, insecurity, and systemic dysfunction that threatens to erode the character of Pakistan cricket.
At its core, cricket in Pakistan is more than a sport; it is an emotional currency, a unifier in a fractured society, a canvas for unbridled joy and shared pride. Yet, it has often been marred by a blatant contradiction: the inability to respect and nurture its finest talents. Players who rise to the acme of their skills, celebrated players have frequently found themselves targeted by a culture of envy and disdain. Their achievements, instead of being celebrated, are scrutinized through a lens of suspicion, their motives questioned, their authority undermined. There were a few, Wasim Akram, Mushtaq Ahmad, Salim Malik et al, later Mohammad Aamir, Mohammad Asif and Salman Butt apprehended for their alleged role in betting and match fixing. While Aamir, Asif and Salman were penalized, to an extent of being jailed, the others were warned and fined. This hurt credibility of Pakistan cricket. Ironically, instead of opting for measures to create deterrence, most of them were brought back to the system either as a player or in management and coaching roles. Pakistan cricket was stuck in a quandary.
Ironically, in lieu of instituting enduring measures to foster deterrence and rebuild integrity, the system absorbed many of these tarnished cricketers back into its fold, whether as players or in managerial and coaching roles. Thus, Pakistan cricket finds itself ensnared in a quandary, a tragic stasis, caught between the weight of its ideals and the compromises of its reality.
This cultural intolerance is not accidental; it stems from a systemic fear of merit. In an ecosystem where mediocrity thrives, excellence is seen as a threat. Board members, often irrelevant to their roles, lack the cricketing credentials or vision to manage the complexities of modern cricket. Instead, they wield their administrative power, indulging in petty struggles with players who dare to assert themselves. The result is a toxic cycle: players are mistrusted for their success, sidelined for their independence, and eventually discarded under the guise of ‘discipline’ or ‘team harmony.’
Consider Babar Azam and Mohammad Rizwan, two of Pakistan’s most successful and celebrated contemporary cricketers, representing a rare synthesis of talent and resolve. Yet, despite their manifold contributions to country’s cicket, they have been subjected to unwarranted criticism and the insidious machinations of bureaucratic undermining. Their captaincy, their performances, and even their personalities have been scrutinised with a cynicism that teeters dangerously on the precipice of malice.
These two, steadfast in principle, refused to lend their names to surrogate commercial ventures, thereby resisting the allure of compromise. Their resolve, obstinate as it was, ventured into the very corridors of influence, culminating in the prohibition of such advertisements by the Government of Pakistan. While this act of defiance upheld a higher ethical standard, it undoubtedly antagonised vested interests within the Pakistan Cricket Board and its adjacent circles. Furthermore, their audacious negotiation of the Players’ Central Contracts disrupted the entrenched bureaucracy of the PCB. The acceptance of their demands, though a victory for fairness, rendered them pariahs in the eyes of those who resented the erosion of their control. Consequently, conspiracies to unseat them gained momentum, fuelled by a climate of dissent and mistrust. For Babar, this storm of intrigue was compounded by an untimely lapse in form, rendering his position within the team precarious and his dignity subject to unwarranted speculation.
This is not merely an indictment of governance; it is a betrayal, philosophical in its gravity, of the ideals cricket was meant to espouse: respect, resilience, and integrity. In the erosion of these values lies a profound tragedy, a stark reminder of the tenuous balance between power and principle, ambition and virtue. The culture of mediocrity within the Pakistan Cricket Board (PCB) exacerbates this intolerance. Decision-making positions are often occupied by individuals with little or no cricketing background, lawyers, bureaucrats, and political appointees who lack the understanding, competence or empathy required to manage a team of highly skilled professionals. These administrators, driven by insecurity, often view strong-willed players as adversaries rather than assets. The power struggle that ensues is not about cricket but ego, a battle to establish dominance over those who should, by right, be cricket’s central figures.
This power struggle inflicts profound damage on the team. Players are left demoralized, unsure of their place in a system that fails to value their contributions. Young talent, observing the treatment meted out to senior players, becomes disillusioned, their confidence eroded before it can bloom. The team, instead of being a cohesive unit, becomes a collection of individuals navigating a minefield of politics and mistrust.
Philosophically, the crisis in Pakistan cricket mirrors a broader societal issue: the fear of excellence and the discomfort with independence. In a culture that values conformity over creativity, those who challenge the status quo are often vilified. Cricketers, by their very nature, are individuals who thrive on independence, on the ability to think, adapt, and lead. But in Pakistan, independence is perceived as insubordination, and leadership is met with resistance. To address this cultural malaise, Pakistan cricket must undergo a fundamental shift in mindset. It must recognize that excellence cannot thrive in an environment of mediocrity and intolerance. Players must be seen not as adversaries but as partners, their expertise valued, their voices heard. The PCB must be restructured to prioritize merit and cricketing acumen over political affiliations and administrative convenience.
At its heart, cricket is a celebration of the human spirit, a sport that thrives on individuality and collective effort. Pakistan cricket, with its rich history and unparalleled talent stock, has the potential to rise above its current struggles. But to do so, it must exuviate the shackles of mediocrity and intolerance that have long held it back. It must accept a culture that respects its players, values their contributions, and fosters an environment where talent can flourish without fear.
For Pakistan cricket to reclaim its rightful place on the world stage, it must learn to nurture, not destroy; to empower, not undermine. It must become a reflection of the ideals it once stood for, resilience, brilliance, and staunch passion. Only then can it outdo the power struggles and cultural dysfunction that have plagued it for so long and rise, once again, as a source of hope and pride for its people.
The Mismanagement of Greatness
In history of Pakistan cricket, few tales are as emblematic of its contradictions as the mishandling of Shaheen Afridi and the excessive burden placed on Babar Azam. Afridi, charismatic and enigmatic, and Babar, the technically brilliant prodigy, represent two distinct faces of Pakistan cricket. Yet, their stories converge in a shared narrative of mismanagement, undue pressure, and the erosion of potential. This is a reflection not only on the players themselves but on the broader culture of Pakistan cricket, a culture that exalts its heroes but also consumes them, often leaving behind fractured legacies.
Shahid Afridi: A Fire Doused by Chaos
Shaheen Afridi has had a phenomenal rise, a player who excelled with his explosive bowling, electric presence, and unbridled charisma. Amongst his contemporaries, he has been Pakistan’s most marketable star, a crowd-puller whose very presence could bring life to the stadiums. Yet, beneath the spectacle lay a deeper tragedy: a career defined as much by its brilliance as by its lack of direction and inadequate injury management which left his action modified and took the zing out of his bowling, his speed has been reduced and the incoming ball or the wrist locking have suffered leaving him dependent on ushing his hyperextending arms being used as levers to provide him the momentum and pace. He isn’t even half of what he has been and now finds his career interrupted, recently left out of Pakistan’s Test team. He hurried his re-entry into international cricket without having undergone complete restoration of fitness while rehabilitating his injured knee.
Afridi’s mercurial talent hasn’t been anchored by a clear plan. Mismanaged by successive administrations, he was shuffled across roles and formats, never allowed the stability needed to harness his true potential. One moment, he was Pakistan’s savior; the next, he was its scapegoat. His career, marked by internal conflicts and external meddling, are symptomatic of a system that thrives on chaos rather than clarity.
Philosophically, Afridi’s career is another metaphor for Pakistan cricket’s inability to nurture its brightest stars. His free-spirited approach to the game, his unorthodox methods, and his reactive personality has never been fully understood, let alone supported. Instead, he has been placed under a microscope, his every failure magnified, his every success treated as an anomaly. The system, rather than celebrating his individuality, sought to conform him to a template that never fit.
Babar Azam: A Prodigy Stifled by Leadership
If Afridi’s narrative is one of tempestuous chaos, then Babar Azam’s story is one of inobtrusive suffocation. Lauded as Pakistan’s finest batting prodigy, not only of his generation but perhaps of all generations, Babar’s rise was nothing short of meteoric. His graceful stroke play and unparalleled consistency heralded him as a modern great in the making. Yet, his career took a pivotal turn when he was thrust into the mantle of captaincy across all formats, a responsibility neither sought nor innately suited to his nature.
The mantle of leadership in cricket is far from a tactical exercise; it is a receptacle demanding temperament, vision, and the ability to inspire. Babar, an artisan by disposition, found himself ensnared in a role that demanded extroversion, strategic sagacity, and the delicate art of managing egos. Over time, the toll of these expectations began to manifest. The immense burden of captaincy, compounded by the remorseless and often unattainable expectations of a nation starved for heroes, drove him into a state of introspective retreat. The artistry of his batting, a source of unbridled joy and self-expression became fettered by self-doubt and distraction.
The philosophical tragedy of Babar Azam resides in the system's inability to comprehend his essence. He was not a leader in the conventional sense but an artist, a craftsman whose focus ought to have been the perfection of his art, free from the labyrinthine pressures of captaincy. Yet, Pakistan cricket, in its perpetual quest of quick fixes and grandiose narratives, compelled him into a role that gradually eroded his self-assurance and, ultimately, his mastery with the bat.
His appointment as captain was less an institutional decision than a political manoeuvre. Strong recommendations came from the then Prime Minister of Pakistan, Imran Khan, a directive conveyed to the PCB through one of the nation's esteemed former all-rounders. The Prime Minister’s admiration for Babar stemmed from his elegant batting displays in Australia, a stark contrast to his disenchantment with Sarfraz Ahmad, a captain whose pragmatic leadership had restored Pakistan’s supremacy in T20 cricket. As it was told, the tipping point came during the ICC World Cup 2019, when Sarfraz, faced with overcast conditions and a rain-heavy sky, chose to field against India at Old Trafford, a decision that defied Imran’s explicit tweet on the eve of the match, preferring batting first. The aftermath of that match, coupled with Imran’s ire, sealed Sarfraz’s fate despite his commendable record as captain.
Thus, Babar’s ascension to captaincy was both an opportunity and an opus, an imposition born not of his own volition but of external forces driven by politics and narrative rather than a nuanced understanding of leadership. It was, in essence, a poignant commentary on the philosophical dissonance between institutional ambition and individual essence, a betrayal of the principles cricket aspires to uphold: authenticity, balance, and the unyielding pursuit of excellence.
The Culture of Mismanagement
The stories of Afridi and Babar are not isolated; they are symptomatic of a deeper cultural malaise within Pakistan cricket. This is a system that demands greatness from its players but provides them with neither the environment nor the support to achieve it. Rehabilitation, whether physical or psychological, is an afterthought. Players are treated as commodities, their individuality suppressed, their struggles dismissed.
Afridi was never given the mentorship he needed to channel his fitness and rehabilitation from a career-threatening injury. Babar was never given the freedom to focus solely on his batting. Both were victims of a culture that prioritizes short-term success over long-term sustainability, a culture that places its players on pedestals only to knock them down at the first sign of failure.
The Way Forward
To prevent future tragedies like those of Afridi and Babar, Pakistan cricket must undergo a philosophical shift. It must move away from its obsession with quick fixes and accept a more holistic approach to player management. Players must be treated as individuals, not just performers. Their roles should align with their natural strengths, and their development must be supported by robust systems of mentorship, rehabilitation, and mental health care.
Ironically, due to an abysmally unprofessional medical panel at the PCB, many a fast bowlers were mistreated including Ihsan Ullah, Shaheen Shah Afridi, Naseem Shah, and staggering it was to see Khurram Shahzad, Mir Hamza or Mohammad Ali despite extensive experience in first class cricket could hardly last three sessions of play, not being able to keep up the energy and strength to maintain their speed and stamina in the middle of a Test match. High time, PCB prioritizes installing state of the art medical panel run by well-trained, qualified postgraduates to ensure that proper evaluation processes, modules and injury prevention is introduced.
With our experience of choice made to captain Pakistan, be it Babar Azam, Shaheen Shah Afridi or Shan Masood, one must ponder on the fact, leadership, in particular must be earned, not imposed. Not every great player is destined to be a great captain, and that is just fine. A cricketing ecosystem that respects individuality will naturally find leaders who are suited to the role, rather than forcing the mantle onto those who are ill-equipped for it.
Ultimately, cricket is a game of expression, a celebration of human potential. For Pakistan to truly honor its cricketing heritage, it must learn to nurture its stars without suffocating them. It must allow them to flourish, to fail, and to rise again, on their own terms. Only then can the stories of players like Afridi, Shadab Khan, and Babar be rewritten, not as tragedies, but as triumphs of resilience, freedom, and unyielding spirit.
Pakistan Cricket Board’s Resistance to Progress
In the labyrinth of Pakistan’s cricketing history, one narrative has remained constant: the paradoxical blend of immense potential and chronic stagnation. The Pakistan Cricket Board (PCB), tasked with shaping the future of the nation's cricket, has often found itself trapped in the tangle of its own inertia. While other cricketing nations have accepted the modern age, adapting to new technologies, evolving their structures, and reimagining the game, Pakistan’s cricket administration has often resisted change, stifling the game’s progress and hindering the development of its players.
This resistance is not merely a failure of the system but a philosophical reflection of deeper societal and cultural forces, forces that value tradition over innovation, control over evolution. In this context, the PCB's inability to modernize its infrastructure and incorporate state-of-the-art tools into its cricketing ecosystem becomes a symbol of a much larger issue: the difficulty of letting go of outdated paradigms and stepping into an uncertain future.
The Paradox of Stagnating Culture
Cricket, in Pakistan, is more than just a game, it is a symbol of national pride, a reflection of the country’s spirit, and a cultural touchstone that overrides politics and societal divisions. Yet, within this reverence for tradition lies the paradox: a reverence that suffocates growth, keeping the game shackled to antiquated methods and practices. Worse, is to use traditions as a mask hiding personal insecurities, resistance to change and corruption. Professional inadequacies since long have thwarted PCB’s modernization and growth.
The PCB’s resistance to change is rooted in a deep-seated attachment to status quo. There is a sense of comfort in the familiar, a belief that the success of past decades, based on raw talent and instinct, is a sufficient model for the future. This mindset, on of inherent insecurities and not having self-belief because of the offices they hold are irrelevant to themhas led to a reluctance to adopt modern technologies, biomechanics, data analytics, AI-driven coaching, injury prevention tools, and performance-enhancing technologiesthat have transformed cricket worldwide. The cricketing landscape has changed, but Pakistan cricket, under the weight of its past successes, remains tethered to an outdated worldview.
The refusal to incorporate change is not only about fear of the unknown; it is about the tension between innovation and identity. Not relevant to what they are expected to deliver, failure is what keeps them restrained.
The Danger of Stagnation
The failure to introduce modern technologies into Pakistan’s cricketing infrastructure is not just a failure of innovation; it is a failure to compete on the global stage. In a world where every other major cricketing nation has invested heavily in sports science, technological advancement, and data-driven decision-making, Pakistan finds itself lagging behind. The absence of these tools stunts the growth of its players, prevents accurate assessments of performance, and denies the team the best possible opportunity to compete at the highest levels.
Consider the biomechanics of fast bowling, the most celebrated facet of Pakistan cricket. While nations like Australia, England, and South Africa use advanced motion-capture technologies and biomechanics labs to assess and enhance the performance of their bowlers, Pakistan continues to rely on outdated methods, which often overlook crucial aspects of a bowler’s technique and fitness. This is not just a failure of equipment, it is a failure of vision. The refusal to invest in state-of-the-art tools means that Pakistan’s cricketers are playing with one hand tied behind their backs, limited by the very system that is supposed to support them.
Fear of the New
At its core, the PCB’s reluctance to modernize is a philosophical struggle between the fear of change and the desire for control. Change, in its essence, is not a simple evolution, it is a disruption, a break from the status quo that forces individuals and organizations to rethink their identity and purpose. For the PCB, enfolding new technologies is not just a matter of upgrading infrastructure; it is an acknowledgment that the traditional methods of governing and nurturing players are no longer sufficient.
This fear of disruption manifests in a reluctance to place trust in data, algorithms, and new methodologies. There is a deep-rooted belief that the ‘human touch’ is irreplaceable and that the nuances of cricket can only be understood by those who have lived the game. Ex-superstars who without training occupy lucrative offices such as coaches and mentors are oblivious of the latest methods therefore, they stand up against innovation to mask their incapacities and insecurities. It may well seem harsh, but these ex-superstars have been the biggest culprits retarding cricket’s growth virtually eroding the future of our national team. But this is a fallacy.
Modern technologies are not replacements for human insight; they are enhancements, tools that can unlock hidden potential, optimize performance, and guide players to new heights. The refusal to integrate these tools into Pakistan cricket is a philosophical rejection of progress, a belief that the game’s future should be shaped by outdated methods rather than innovation. It’s all about self-conceit and personal gains. These ex-players have become Pakistan’s nemesis, and it’s about time, professionals should be inducted into a system that needs complete reincarnation.
The Path Forward
For Pakistan cricket to thrive in the modern era, it must learn to accept change, not as a threat but as an opportunity. This requires a fundamental shift in mindset. The PCB must recognize that modern technologies are not threats to tradition but partners in preserving the essence of the game. Data-driven coaching, AI-assisted performance analytics, cutting-edge injury prevention tools, and advanced biomechanics should not be seen as foreign elements but as the natural evolution of a sport that thrives on precision, adaptation, and growth.
This is not only a call for technological adoption; it is a call for a deeper philosophical change within the PCB. It requires letting go of the outdated notion that the game’s integrity or personal benefits are threatened by progress. The integrity of cricket lies not in cohering to the past but in its ability to evolve while respecting its core values. And PCB also needs to develop high quality professionals and human stock not over-awed by the ex-cricketers who as players were wonders but as administrators, coaches and mentors have been abysmal, outright failures.
The future of Pakistan cricket depends not only on its players but on the system that surrounds them. By investing in modern technologies and fostering an environment of innovation, the PCB can ensure that Pakistan’s cricketing future is not just an echo of the past but a vibrant, competitive force on the global stage. Only then can Pakistan cricket shed its baggage, run into the future, and reclaim its place among the world’s cricketing elites.
The Illusion of Greatness: A Philosophical Reflection on Pakistan’s Decline in Test Cricket (2020–2025)
In sports, greatness is not an inheritance but a continuous quest, a challenge. It must be earned, reaffirmed, and reimagined with every generation. Pakistan cricket, a name once synonymous with unpredictability and brilliance, now finds itself at a crossroads, a stark reality where the romanticism of the past has been replaced by the cold, clinical truth of mediocrity.
From 2020 to 2025, Pakistan played 33 Test matches, losing 15, winning 12, and drawing 6. Of these victories, 8 came against lower-middle-tier teams such as Sri Lanka, West Indies, Zimbabwe, and Bangladesh. They have failed to win a single Test in England, Australia, New Zealand, or South Africa, which in itself is evidence of their under preparedness and mediocrity.
This statistics tell a story far deeper than wins and losses. It reveals a philosophical reckoning: Pakistan is no longer a top-tier Test team. The myth of Pakistan’s cricketing supremacy, a myth built on the exploits of the past, has been exposed in the polarized and merit-driven cricketing landscape of today. This decline is not just a sporting crisis but a cultural and philosophical one, rooted in a failure to evolve, adapt, and accept uncomfortable truths.
The Mirage of Legacy
Legacy is both a gift and a burden. Pakistan’s cricketing heritage is rich, marked by moments of brilliance: Imran Khan’s World Cup triumph remains a prominent part of the cricketing history, a feat illustrative of an indomitable will. The dominance of Wasim Akram and Waqar Younis, their mastery over reverse swing an almost mystical phenomenon, and the defiance of Younis Khan, who stamped his name in glory by leading Pakistan to victory in the ICC T20 World Cup in 2009, stand as cenotaphs to resilience. Misbah-ul-Haq, less flamboyant and more reserved, epitomized stoic leadership, holding the reins as Pakistan’s most successful Test captain. The guile of Saqlain Mushtaq, whose invention of the doosra reshaped the art of spin, and the innovations of Abdul Qadir, the quintessential pioneer of leg-spin, were masterclasses in reinvention.
Then there was the blistering stroke play of Inzamam-ul-Haq, whose calm yet powerful presence inspired a generation, and the flamboyance of Saeed Anwar, whose elegance with the bat was a sight to behold. Rashid Latif’s artistry behind the stumps redefined wicket-keeping, while Shoaib Akhtar’s raw, unforgiving pace struck fear into the hearts of batsmen worldwide. The wily leg-spin of Mushtaq Ahmed, an archetype of precision, harked back to the days of A.H. Kardar and Hanif Mohammad, stalwarts who laid the foundation of Pakistan cricket.
The Brylcreem-laden charm of Fazal Mahmood, whose dapper looks and deadly outswingers enchanted all, and Imtiaz Ahmed’s pioneering prowess, marked the first generation of cricketing greats. In the generation that followed, Mushtaq Mohammad’s innovative flair, Asif Iqbal’s calm resourcefulness, Zaheer Abbas’s silken touch, and Wasim Raja’s delectable artistry added layers to Pakistan’s cricketing legacy. Shahid Afridi’s audacious genius, the supernatural precision of Mohammad Asif, and the uncompromising brilliance of Javed Miandad, perhaps the greatest of them all, each contributed uniquely to an arras rich in talent and tenacity.
Yet, there is a profound irony implanted in these illustrious tales. Legacy, when unaccompanied by meaningful progress, becomes but a mirage, a comforting illusion that shrouds the crevices beneath. It is a bittersweet truth that while past glories inspire, they can also obscure the road forward, trapping a nation in the gilded nostalgia of yesteryears. Progress demands more than reverence for history; it calls for the courage to build upon it, lest the shimmering echoes of triumph become hollow monuments to what might have been.
The period from 2020 to 2025 highlights this contradiction. Pakistan’s victories have come against teams struggling to assert themselves on the global stage. In contrast, the nation’s inability to compete with top-tier sides like England, India, Australia, New Zealand, and South Africa exposes the hollowness of its claims to greatness. Greatness is not defined by the ability to dominate the weak but by the capacity to challenge the strong. By this measure, Pakistan has faltered, adhering to its past laurels while failing to build a future.
Polarization and the Price of Stagnation
The modern cricketing world is fiercely competitive, with teams investing in infrastructure, analytics, and player development. India, England, and Australia have transformed their cricketing ecosystems, blending tradition with innovation to create teams that are not only competitive but dominant. Even New Zealand, long considered an underdog, has become prominent through meticulous planning and collective effort.
Pakistan, by contrast, has remained stagnant, caught in a quagmire of outdated structures and resistance to change. The polarization of global cricket has left Pakistan isolated, not geographically but ideologically. While others accept modernity, Pakistan adheres to its romanticized past, a past that is increasingly irrelevant in the face of contemporary demands. The result is a team that cannot match the intensity and preparation of top-tier sides, reduced instead to picking off weaker teams to maintain a semblance of relevance.
The Fragility of Romanticism
There is a certain romanticism attached to Pakistan cricket: the perception of raw talent triumphing over adversity, of mavericks defying the odds, of moments of magic eclipsing structural inadequacies. But this romanticism, once Pakistan’s strength, has become its raw nerve. The reliance on instinct over preparation, on individual brilliance over collective effort, is no longer sufficient in a game that demands precision, discipline, and planning.
From 2020 to 2025, Pakistan cricket has represented this fragility. The team has displayed flashes of brilliance, yet these moments are transient, unable to sustain the long, arduous demands of Test cricket. The victories against lower-tier teams provide temporary solace but do little to address the deeper issues: a lack of strategic vision, inadequate investment in infrastructure, and a failure to nurture a culture of excellence. It’s because the quality of HR at the PCB is pedestrian. Ex cricketers, though celebrated have become the liabilities, misplaced priorities, and floundering of money have downed the country’s cricket, submissively slithering into regression.
The Philosophical Reckoning
The decline of Pakistan cricket is not merely a question of results; it is a reflection of a deeper philosophical crisis. At its heart lies a fundamental question: What does Pakistan cricket want to be? If the goal is to reclaim its place among the world’s elite, then it must confront the uncomfortable truths of its current state. The PCB must abandon the complacency that has allowed mediocrity to thrive. The system must prioritize merit over nepotism, long-term planning over short-term fixes, and investment in players’ development over the allure of immediate results.
This reckoning requires humility—the humility to accept that the world has moved on, and Pakistan must move with it. It requires the courage to let go of the past and embrace a future built on innovation, discipline, and collective effort.
The Path Forward: Redefining Greatness
Greatness in sport is not static; it is dynamic, evolving with time and context. For Pakistan cricket to rediscover its greatness, it must redefine what that greatness means. It must move beyond the illusion of past glory and focus on building a sustainable future. This means investing in grassroots cricket, creating state-of-the-art training facilities, and embracing modern technologies such as biomechanics and data analytics. It means fostering a culture of accountability, where players, coaches, and administrators are held to the highest standards. It means breaking free from the shackles of mediocrity and embracing a vision of excellence that is not bound by tradition but inspired by possibility.
The Road Less Taken
The story of Pakistan cricket from 2020 to 2025 is a cautionary tale, a reminder that greatness is not a birthright but a choice. The polarized cricketing landscape offers two paths: one of stagnation, where Pakistan continues to revel in its past, and another of transformation, where it embraces the challenges of the modern game with humility and determination. The choice is not an easy one, but it is a necessary one. For Pakistan cricket to reclaim its place among the world’s best, it must choose the road less taken—the road of change, growth, and reinvention. Only then can the team rise above its current state, not as a shadow of its former self but as a beacon of resilience, innovation, and excellence.
Dr. Nauman Niaz is the Sports Editor at JournalismPakistan.com. He is a civil award winner (Tamagha-i-Imtiaz) in Sports Broadcasting and Journalism and a regular cricket correspondent, covering 54 tours and three ICC World Cups. He has written over 3500 articles, authored 14 books, and is the official historian of Pakistan cricket (Fluctuating Fortunes IV Volumes – 2005). His signature show, Game On Hai, has received the highest ratings and acclaim.
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