Why Bangladesh’s tense victory over England is the biggest thing cricket has seen in that country

Whether you were an England fan, Bangladesh fan or even an India fan, taking a break from Diwali festivities on Sunday to keep an eye on proceedings in Dhaka, it was hard to take away from the fact that there was a romance about it all.

That is, after all, what Test cricket is all about, is it not? The one reason why a strange, archaic format still exists and still continues to leave its cynics mesmerised. Like a good Shakespearian play, it has it all: heartbreaks, tragedy, celebration, redemption. And at the end, hope for a better future.

Oh, it certainly had its characters. Mushfiqur Rahim, Bangladesh captain, no stranger to tragedy and heartbreak. Forever reviled and mocked for celebrating too early on that fateful Bengaluru day in March when Bangladesh crashed and burnt against India, two runs short of salvation. Twenty-two bitter runs shy against England in Chittagong last week in a match which left Sabbir Rahman hunched over, staring at the ground, all too mindful of that familiar sinking feeling.

Dizzying falls

How much did Bangladesh want it? They always want it a little too much. The greed to grab victory has often led to chaos and dizzying falls. Bengaluru was one example. The first One-Day International against England earlier this month where they collapsed from 271/5 to 288 all out in pursuit of 310 was another one, ultimately costing them the series.

The trend continued in the Tests, with 221/4 becoming 248 all out in the first innings of the first one. The captain had then rued that it was those missed runs that ultimately cost them the match, by the slender margin of 22 runs.

But did that bring about change? Not a chance. In fact, Bangladesh seemed, if possible, in even more of a hurry. Tamim Iqbal slashed, hooked, pulled, drove on his way to a fabulous century in the first innings of the second Test and Mirpur rejoiced with him. But as he left, Bangladesh plunged and so did the crowd’s voices. Again they rose, with England at 146/8. And again they sat down, disappointed as Chris Woakes and Adil Rashid took England past Bangladesh’s score. The story of Bangladesh. So near. Always so far.

In between was captain and wicket-keeper Rahim. Behind the stumps, tense, edge. “Prottyekta run important [Every run is important]”, he screamed as England steadily progressed in the first innings, imploring his bowlers for wickets. “Edike taka na [Look at me!]”, he shouted, losing his frustration as a fielder failed to heed his instructions. Urging, cajoling. Pleading for deliverance.

There was no collapse in Bangladesh’s second innings but they did not much care anymore. They were now playing like a gambler down to the last throw of the dice. There was a touch of desperation about the way they batted in the second innings. They were drinking at the last chance salon. If it came off, well and good. If not, well, they were no strangers to defeat, anyway.

And it seemed to have worked. Through a mix of desperation and aggression, they totalled 296 in their second dig. Surely, on a turning track with Bangladesh’s array of spin demons, England would not be able to come close?

That familiar sinking feeling

The vagaries of this game. A buoyed crowd watched. And watched. Only once had there been an opening partnership of above 50 in the seven innings in the series. But conventional wisdom is always likely to be turned on the head. The dour Alastair Cook had enough. So had his sprightly opening partner Ben Duckett.

The Bangladesh method would be followed, decided England. So Duckett steeled himself and exploded. And wonders of wonders, it worked. Slog-sweep after slog-sweep and the fielders scattered. The runs kept coming. A few half-chances arrived. Shoulders dropped. England were 100/0 at tea on Day 3. Only 173 runs away. Only 173 runs away from a 2-0 whitewash. Only 173 runs away from Bangladesh retreating into self-recrimination and angst again.

A few months ago, Bangladesh had found a secret weapon. He was called “The Fizz”. He bounded in with his wrist in an uncanny position, keeping the best batsmen in the world guessing. But he was not around in Dhaka. Or in Chittagong. A shoulder injury had kept him out. No matter. Bangladesh had found another weapon. He was called Miraz. Mehedi Hasan Miraz.

Poor old Duckett. There had been calls for his head but he was brilliant in England’s second innings. Seven fours and a towering six in his 56. But one fatal error undid it all. He rocked back to the first ball from Hasan. The ball hurried through. The stumps were demolished.

One became two, two became three, three became four. Each wicket brought the light within reach but it also brought fear. Rahim and each of his teammates tried not to show it, but their actions betrayed what they felt. Victory was near, again. Within touchable distance. But the nagging fear remained, borne out of past bitter experiences. If they tried to grab it, it would retreat once again into the distance.

Anxiety and frustration

And hence they became edgier. Cook was given out, but the decision was overturned leading to roars of frustration. He was soon dismissed but that only served to drive Bangladesh closer towards the edge. There was a groan as Ben Stokes leaned forward only for Shakib Al Hasan to drop the caught-and-bowled chance. He grinned as he got up, but there was no doubting what he had left unsaid.

Then Stokes went down the ground and hit a huge six. Two balls later, he reviewed...successfully. As soon as the decision arrived on the big screen, a loud, frustrated “Haaat!” emanated from Rahim. No, not now. Not now. Not again.

Ninety-four Test matches in sixteen years and only a few wins against an under-strength West Indies and Zimbabwe to show for. Not that Bangladesh did not have their chances. In their very first match as an independent Test nation, they scored 400 and had India struggling at 236/6 before letting it slip out of their grasp. Against a dominating Australian side in 2006, they even took a massive 158-run lead only to fritter it away.

The biggest heartbreak did not come in Bangladesh, but in the dusty environs of Multan in Pakistan in 2003. Bangladesh truly believed that they had thwarted Pakistan, struggling at 164/7 in a chase 261 before a magical Inzamam-ul-Haq took Pakistan home to a one-wicket win.

Banishing the ghosts

All these memories hung heavy in the air. And that was why, when the end did arrive, it thankfully came too quickly to register. Again, a touch of the romantic: talismanic Shakib Al Hasan, Bangladesh’s pride, atoning for his drop, going through Stokes’s defence and giving him a salute as a farewell. Accounting for Adil Rashid and Zakar Ansari in the same over to ensure that there would be no more nerves. Fittingly, leaving it for the fresh-faced youngster, Mehedi Hasan Miraz, to deliver Bangladesh’s finest Test moment.

Rahim laughed. He smiled. He whooped. He ran. The team grabbed the stumps and ran helter-skelter. It was only one Test and that too, a series-levelling victory. Sometime later in the future, as a better squad, Bangladesh will look back on this celebration and be embarrassed. Only one victory, after all, and that too, one that took too many years coming.

But it did arrive. For a country which loves its cricket ferociously but recoils in rage at not being taken seriously. For a country which is still finding its feet, after years of British and Pakistani rule, and then forever under the shadow of big brothers and neighbours India. For a country which is almost always in strife and looks upon cricket for deliverance.

There was no heartbreak on Sunday in Bangladesh. No thoughts of “what if”. No second-guessing. They had won. Victory was theirs.