In Pakistan, cricket isn’t just a sport — it’s a feeling, a lifeline, and for many, the only flicker of hope in challenging times. It’s the sound of children playing in narrow streets, the thrill of families gathered around old TVs, and the roar of millions united by a single dream. But with every crushing defeat, that dream feels a little more distant, leaving behind a nation of broken hearts.
For decades, cricket has been Pakistan’s escape — a reason to celebrate, to believe, and to forget life’s hardships, even if just for a while. But now, that escape feels like a cruel reminder of what’s been lost. It’s not just about losing matches; it’s about losing faith in something that once brought us all together.
Every missed catch, every poor decision, every careless shot feels like a betrayal to the millions who pour their love and loyalty into this game. Fans sit in silence after every defeat, not just disappointed — but heartbroken. Because in Pakistan, cricket is personal. It’s family. And right now, it feels like family has let us down.
This isn’t a call for perfection. It’s a plea for passion, for pride, for players to realise that when they step onto that field, they carry the weight of an entire nation’s hopes. Pakistan’s cricket doesn’t need heroes who play for fame — it needs warriors who play for the heartbeats of 240 million people. Because for Pakistan, cricket isn’t just a game — it’s everything. And right now, that everything feels shattered.
Ali Aqsam
Shikarpur
