Asad Nadeem
Pakistan cricket continues to embody contradiction: a country where raw talent never dries up, where cricket is almost a second religion, yet where institutional weakness and poor planning repeatedly undermine the game. Under Mohsin Naqvi’s tenure as PCB chairman, there were expectations of a break from the old cycle of politics and quick fixes. Instead, the familiar symptoms of inconsistency, reactive management, and an absence of structural reform persist. The revolving door of captains and coaches is the clearest indicator. Since 2022, Pakistan has gone through Babar Azam, Shaheen Afridi, and then back to Babar as T20 captain, while ODI and Test leadership also oscillated. Coaching setups have changed three times in the same period. Such instability mirrors the early 2000s, when Pakistan cycled through Waqar Younis, Rashid Latif, Yousuf Youhana, Inzamam-ul-Haq, and Shoaib Malik within just a few years, and the national team was consistently exposed at ICC events.
The problem is compounded by the neglect of domestic cricket. Instead of rebuilding Pakistan’s first-class and List-A structures, or strengthening the High Performance Centre, the focus has remained narrowly on international fixtures. This stands in stark contrast to England’s complete transformation after their 2015 World Cup humiliation. England’s domestic one-day structure was retooled, attacking openers were groomed, fitness and fielding standards were enforced, and data analytics were integrated into planning. Within four years, they lifted the 2019 World Cup, having increased their ODI scoring rate from 5.1 runs per over in 2015 to 6.3 in 2019. Pakistan, by comparison, has slipped backwards: its ODI scoring rate since 2019 stands at 5.2, lower than India (5.7), Australia (5.8), and far below England.
Numbers tell the story of conservatism and stagnation. In T20 internationals from 2021 to 2024, Pakistan’s average powerplay strike rate was 7.2 runs per over. England, the benchmark of fearless cricket, scored at 8.9; India at 8.3; New Zealand at 8.0. Pakistan’s inability to maximize the first six overs has meant that totals of 160 are often treated as defendable when modern T20 demands 190-plus to compete with elite sides. The 2022 T20 World Cup final in Melbourne is a classic example: Pakistan crawled to 137/8 against England, who chased it comfortably. In ODI cricket, Pakistan’s strike rate of 86 since 2019 pales against England’s 100 and Australia’s 93. This conservatism is not a one-off but systemic. Without adopting a modern batting philosophy, Pakistan will continue to be left behind.
Fielding is an equally glaring weakness. At the 2023 World Cup, Pakistan dropped 14 catches in nine games, second worst in the tournament. CricViz data showed Pakistan’s overall fielding efficiency 10 per cent lower than India and 8 per cent lower than New Zealand. In T20s, Pakistan’s boundary-saving percentage is among the bottom three of the top-10 nations since 2021. These numbers confirm that fitness and fielding benchmarks remain neglected. Teams like New Zealand enforce fitness tests and ground fielding standards rigorously—no player, regardless of reputation, is exempt. Pakistan’s willingness to compromise here is symptomatic of a system that prioritises names over performance.
The issue of selection is central. A meritocratic, data-driven approach is missing. Players who have averaged below 25 in ODIs over the last three years or struck at under 120 in T20Is continue to be recalled. This reliance on reputation blocks the pipeline of younger players. Domestic cricket still produces talent every year: Saud Shakeel, Abdullah Shafique, and Abrar Ahmed are proof. Yet as long as underperforming seniors retain protection, the dressing room culture will remain stagnant. Misbah-ul-Haq’s rebuilding effort in 2010 was effective precisely because it drew red lines on performance. Pakistan at the time had sunk to sixth in Tests and seventh in ODIs, but within three years under Misbah’s data-driven stability, they had risen to number one in Tests, albeit briefly. That lesson has been ignored.
Babar Azam sits at the centre of this debate. Statistically, he remains Pakistan’s premier batsman. His ODI average of 57 since 2019 is second only to Virat Kohli among top-order batsmen with 2,000-plus runs, while his T20I average of 45 across the same period remains elite. Yet the question is not of his ability but his role. As a batsman, he is irreplaceable. As a leader, however, he has displayed conservatism in tactics and approach. His defensive field placements in the 2022 T20 World Cup final and his insistence on accumulation over acceleration have cost Pakistan in high-stakes games. Modern cricket requires boldness—Rohit Sharma’s ultra-aggressive starts in ODIs and Jos Buttler’s risk-taking captaincy in T20s are examples of leaders setting tones. If Babar cannot evolve as a captain, then Pakistan must separate his batting from the burden of leadership.
Sachin Tendulkar provides precedent: India’s greatest batsman stepped down from leadership to let others guide the team, while his runs continued to flow.
Ultimately, the responsibility falls on PCB. The board continues to behave like a government office, with appointments influenced by politics rather than performance. Ad-hocism dominates: captains shuffled every six months, coaches rotated without evaluation, and committees formed without accountability. The way forward requires a five-year vision with measurable targets: by 2028, Pakistan must aim to be in the top three in Tests, reach at least two ICC semifinals, and overhaul its domestic system to produce players fit for international demands. A genuine High Performance Centre should focus on data analytics, sports science, and mental conditioning, not just net sessions. Coaches must be hired for expertise—fielding specialists from Australia, batting consultants from England—not recycled former players. Captains should be given autonomy but reviewed transparently.
Pakistan cricket does not lack talent; it lacks leadership courage. To persist with failing seniors, to indulge dressing-room politics, to compromise on fitness and modern strategies is to condemn another generation to heartbreak. Fans’ passion cannot cover structural weaknesses indefinitely. The choice is stark: either Pakistan transforms like England did after 2015 and becomes a consistent force, or it continues as a side capable of occasional brilliance but regular disappointment. Discipline, modernization, meritocracy, and fearlessness are the pillars of cricket’s present and future. Unless Mohsin Naqvi embraces these pillars, Pakistan will remain trapped in familiar mediocrity. The country will keep producing stars, but without vision, it will never produce sustained greatness. The question is not whether Pakistan can create talent—it always has—but whether those in charge can finally match it with a vision worthy of the nation’s passion.
