LOSING ON THE FIELD, WINNING IN DRAMA

The Asia Cup is meant to be a showcase of cricketing talent, a stage where Asia’s best test themselves ahead of the World Cup. But instead of focusing on bat and ball, Pakistan’s campaign in Dubai has been mired in unnecessary theatrics. Following their crushing defeat to India, the headlines have not been about their poor cricket but about a bizarre protest staged by the team and its board, where the scapegoat was none other than match referee Andy Pycroft.

The drama began after the India–Pakistan clash in Dubai, where India demolished their arch-rivals in ruthless fashion. Pakistan’s batting collapsed like a pack of cards, their bowlers looked flat, and their fielding amateurish compared to India’s well-oiled unit. It was an embarrassment.

But instead of addressing their failings on the field, the Pakistani side found a convenient distraction. They latched onto the fact that the Indian players walked off without shaking hands after the game. What was clearly a political gesture from India rooted in the backdrop of the Pahalgam terror attack and the mocking social media posts by Pakistani players was spun by Pakistan into a refereeing controversy.

The Pakistani camp even went so far as to issue an ultimatum: remove Pycroft as match referee or Pakistan would pull out of the Asia Cup altogether. It was an extraordinary escalation. Pycroft, a veteran official respected across the cricketing world, suddenly found himself painted as the villain in Pakistan’s narrative. In reality, he had nothing to do with India’s silent walk-off. Handshakes are not mandated by ICC regulations; they are traditions, not rules. India exercised its choice, and Pycroft could hardly have intervened.

But Pakistan needed a diversion. By making Pycroft the scapegoat, the board attempted to shift public discussion away from their humiliating defeat to India. Instead of the media dissecting their amateurish batting or toothless bowling, attention was diverted to a supposed injustice at the hands of the referee.

The ICC, unsurprisingly, rejected Pakistan’s complaint outright. The governing body stood firmly by Pycroft and dismissed the idea of his removal. Yet Pakistan doubled down. Ahead of their next match against the UAE, they staged what can only be described as a sulk. Players stayed back at their hotel, insisting they would not take the field unless Pycroft was removed. The result? The match began an hour late, with fans and broadcasters left bemused. To many observers, it felt childish, almost like a teenage standoff, with one party refusing to show up until its demands were met. When Pakistan finally did arrive at the ground, the irony could not have been richer, the match referee for the game was once again Andy Pycroft himself.

After the game, another twist emerged. A video began circulating in Pakistan’s media, showing Pycroft seated with PCB officials and players. The clip, notably without sound, was presented by the PCB as evidence that Pycroft had apologised to the team.

But doubts immediately surfaced. Why was there no audio? Why did neither Pycroft nor the ICC issue any official statement of apology? Instead, ICC sources hinted that questions had been raised with Pakistan over their own conduct, their late arrival at the UAE game, their ultimatum threats, and their repeated attempts to politicize routine matters. Far from being vindicated, Pakistan now found itself under scrutiny.

At the core of it all lies a simple fact that India’s players chose not to shake hands. They had their reasons, national sentiment, recent provocations on social media, and the desire to keep gestures in line with the public mood at home. There was no violation of rules, no refereeing error, nothing that warranted an official protest. Instead of accepting this reality and moving on, Pakistan manufactured outrage.

Theatrics may serve as temporary cover, distracting their public and media from cricketing failures. But they do little to build credibility in the international game. At a time when Pakistan desperately needs stability in its cricket, such antics only highlight dysfunction.

Now, as the Asia Cup moves into the Super Four stage, India and Pakistan are set to meet again. The cricketing world will watch closely, not just for the contest between bat and ball, but for the behaviour off the pitch.

Will Pakistan once again resort to theatrics if things go poorly on the field? Or will they finally put cricket first and confront the gulf that has opened up between them and India?

As India prepares for the World Cup, sharpening combinations and building momentum, Pakistan risks being remembered not for its cricket but for its tantrums. In Dubai, they were outplayed. Off the field, they have been outclassed too.

THE VIEWS EXPRESSED BY THE AUTHOR ARE PERSONAL

Siddhaarth Mahan, The author is a prolific sports writer, presenter and creates digital sports programs. He brings a storyteller’s touch for the game’s deeper narratives.