DUBAI: Living within a stone’s throw of the Dubai International Stadium, I was able to watch and experience how the atmosphere started to build before this eagerly awaited clash between India and Pakistan in the ICC Champions trophy.
More than three hours before the first ball was bowled, the horns started their familiar chorus. The rituals remained unchanged — the early pilgrimage to the stadium, the face paint, the flags. Despite this, something fundamental has changed in cricket’s most politicized rivalry. The match laid this truth bare.
What we witnessed was not a contest between two equals. Although this is still the message pumped out by the marketing machine and broadcasters continue to sell India against Pakistan as the game’s ultimate clash, the reality on the field tells a different story. In 36 C heat, we watched a stark display of two teams moving in opposing directions.
The demographic in the stands told its own story — a drowning sea of blue with mere patches of green. A visual metaphor for the competitive imbalance that has come to define these encounters. Even Pakistan’s supporters, who are usually defiant and vocal in even the toughest of times, sensed the inevitability of what was coming.
The match felt like a formality from the start. Pakistan’s approach was puzzling at best and self-destructive at worst. After losing Babar Azam early on, followed by Imam-ul-Haq, who ran himself out on his return to the team, the innings descended into an exercise of damage limitation. Saud Shakeel and Mohammad Rizwan needed to rebuild yet still try to be positive. It seemed they had a different plan altogether. Their lack of intent was so profound as to be puzzling. If they were trying to provide a basis for a late assault, then what should not happen is for them both to be dismissed in quick succession. This is exactly what happened.
Any hope of a challenging total vanished and Pakistan lost six wickets for 82 in less than 15 overs, setting India a modest total of 242 to chase.
India’s approach was the opposite of Pakistan’s. This brought the crowd alive and, for the first time, it felt that there were people in the stadium.
It was not until the 42nd over that a Pakistani batter hit a six, through Khushdil Shah. Rohit Sharma took only six balls to launch Naseem Shah for six. This was not just a shot, it was a pathological hammer blow, a statement that India no longer regards Pakistan as an equal but just another team to be dispatched.
Shubman Gill, the ICC’s new No. 1 ranked batter, had the crowd in awe of his classical shots, mixed with aggression. Even the Pakistani contingent clapped his majestic cover drives. Then came a vintage Virat Kohli performance. He played simple cricket against the spinners and attacked the seamers, saying afterwards: “I was happy with the template, it’s how I play in ODIs.”
India never left second gear because they never needed to and therein lies the problem. Rivalries require uncertainty. Both teams need to believe that they can win and, more importantly, they need both sets of fans to believe in the possibility of a victory. The Ashes have endured because, even when one team is stronger, the other always has the potential to retaliate. India against Australia captivates because both teams possess the ability to dominate.
India against Pakistan seems to have lost its edge on the field. The political tensions add edge to these encounters, but they can no longer mask the cricketing chasm that has opened up between the teams. We seem to be left with a rivalry running on nostalgia, fueled by memories of Miandad’s last-ball six in 1986 and Tendulkar’s uppercut off Shoaib Aktar’s bowling in 2003. Now, the contests are failing to create new moments worthy of that history.
The empty seats at the start of play would be unthinkable a decade ago for an India-Pakistan match. The crowd never reached its traditional fever pitch for such a match as it has become too one sided and predictable. “Men against boys,” was the sentiment being bandied about in the stands. It is hard to argue with that assessment. India’s victory felt inevitable from the moment Shakeel was caught in the deep. This is not the stuff of which great rivalries are made. They should make your heart race. They should keep you on the edge of your seat. They should make you believe in miracles.
There were no miracles, no edge-of-seat moments, no heart-racing finishes. Just the methodical dismantling of one team by another, executed with clinical efficiency that speaks of a rivalry in name only.
Perhaps it is time to be honest about what India versus Pakistan has become — a historical rivalry whose greatness now resides more in the past than the present. While the political undertones ensure these matches will always carry extra significance, the on-field contest has lost its competitive soul. For this rivalry to reclaim its place at cricket’s summit, Pakistan needs to rediscover its swagger, its intent and, most importantly, its belief. Until then, we are left with echoes of what once was, memories being played out to an increasingly indifferent audience.
The result has put India on the brink of a semi-final and Pakistan on the brink of elimination. Mathematically, there is a chance but, if New Zealand beat Bangladesh, it would mean that Pakistan becomes the first team to be ousted from the tournament, after only two matches. This will be a bitter blow. Pakistan’s return to hosting an ICC tournament will end in deep disappointment, after the high hopes which had built up.
Cricket in Pakistan has been badly buffeted from all angles in recent years. This latest defeat by India will serve only to make life in the eye of the storm even more uncomfortable.
