Another year, another cricket world cup – this time the T20 kind. In a land that is as unpredictable as the cricket itself, the highs are higher than the Himalayas and the lows are lower than the bottom of the Arabian sea! Thus, Pakistan cricket is a tapestry woven with huge talent, relatable heroism, baffling collapses, and enough drama to put a Hitchcockian thriller to shame. In that, our team is shrouded in mystery – capable of being giant slayers in one instance but then tripping over their shoelaces the next. All in the name of keeping the amusement going. Since the dawn of the dinosaurs, the common refrain attached to our team is “being mercurial”. A soft way of saying that they are as unpredictable as the official price list in a Sunday bazaar. One would think that the heart and soul of Pakistani cricket is the team itself. And one couldn’t be more wrong! This accolade goes to the hallowed halls of the selection committee. The ruling corridors of power pale in comparison to the shenanigans that go on in these sacred premises. Talking about the selection committee is akin to addressing the elephant in the dressing room; oversized, slow, and outdated. Here men with fine tastes and even finer moustaches use their vague cricketing knowledge and archaic playing criteria to pick a team that can melt quicker than butter in the shadow of a flame. The logic used is similar to what a rickshaw driver would use at high noon in Raja Bazaar – a hint of instinct, a dash of fate, a sprinkle of courage – all filled with big doses of hope! The alignment of the stars is looked upon with awe and held in high esteem rather than the cricketing prowess of the individual. Form? What form? Form is temporary, class is permanent. Or in this case, my networking is permanent! Senior players – past their prime and having been quickly discarded – are given another go-to mould the cricketers of the future. Not that they did any of the sort when they were in the team! Displaying the agility of a creeping snail and the creativity of a dull accountant, the best outcome they hope for is to become a permanent fixture in the PCB. Cricket, after all, is a gladiatorial sport that thrives on theatre, on the astonishing, on the likelihood of witnessing the extraordinary. On the field, two major ingredients that are always noticeably amiss from the Pakistani cricketing curry are consistency and temperament. Both as much “gone with the wind” as the notion of constitutional justice. It may be thought that the think tank meticulously plans the batting order for every contingency but the middle order – which is as brittle as Cinderella’s glass slipper – puts that thought to rest. We have pace bowlers who can make the ball talk but their accuracy sadly is similar to the form 47s in the past general elections. The spinners – capable of weaving their magic one day, can also deliver a performance as bland as a disinterested bank teller the next. The fielding itself is a rhythmic ballet of mishaps that concludes with a series of unfortunate events. Stunning catches that defy gravity followed by dropped “sitters” that would make a toddler weep. Physics-negating dives followed by undignified sprawls on the outfield. This is all par for the course! Two topics that have also always captured the national discourse are captaincy and fitness. Ah, captaincy – that revolving door of leadership that spins faster than the elegant dancers from Lahore. Each captain comes in with high hopes for the team and even higher hopes for themselves! But ultimately always being sacrificed at the altar of change and expediency. While the general population nitpicks the pros and cons of each change, the never-ending debate about who should lead continues with the critics. The fitness of the national team has become a national debate! Should our cricketers focus on elegance or endurance? Some recent examples have cemented the belief that none of the two may be in vogue and overall, it seems that they may not be excelling at either. Of course – in true Pakistani fashion – from amidst the chaos rise moments of pure brilliance. A quintessential anchor innings from Babar Azam, an in-swinging yorker from Shaheen Afridi that takes the batsman’s toes, a no-look six from Saim Ayub, a hostile over from the likes of Naseem Shah. These moments make us believe – that maybe, just maybe – this is the day Pakistan conquers all. That is why there is a certain beauty in the madness that is Pakistani cricket. It is like that crazy uncle at a family outing – noisy, erratic, and susceptible to embarrassing outbursts. But deep down, you can’t help but love him, because he keeps things interesting. Thus, dismissing Pakistani cricket as just a comedy sitcom would be a grave injustice! Of course, there will be those who will do just that. They are the so-called cricket purists who look for deliberate efficiency, programmed precision, and bland outcomes. To them, I say this: where’s the fun in that? Cricket, after all, is a gladiatorial sport that thrives on theatre, on the astonishing, on the likelihood of witnessing the extraordinary. And Pakistani cricket, in its own famously disordered way, delivers that in spades! Thus, raise your glasses or teacups and coffee mugs to Pakistani cricket; may it always remain a wonderful conundrum and a source of never-ending entertainment that reminds us that sometimes the most stunning things in life are the ones that are the most glorious, magnificent, and absurd! Because that’s Pakistani cricket for you – a chaotic masterpiece of genius, obsession, and spectacle right out of a Shakespearean play. And honestly – why would we want it any other way? The writer is Director Programmes for an international ICT organization based in the UK and writes on corporate strategy, socio-economic and geopolitical issues.