Opinion | Pakistan Cricket’s Real Enemy: Corruption, Nepotism, and Terror

A nation drowning in corruption and terrorism can never progress—cricket is no exception. Pakistan’s cricket failures are a reflection of its crumbling institutions, where nepotism rules and terror overshadows every aspect of life.

I remember it was March 3, 2009, when a bus carrying Sri Lankan international cricketers, part of a larger convoy, was ambushed by 12 gunmen near Gaddafi Stadium in Lahore, Pakistan. The players were on their way to resume play on the third day of the second Test against Pakistan when the attack unfolded. Six members of the Sri Lankan team were brutally injured, while six Pakistani policemen and two civilians lost their lives. This horrifying assault targeted those who had come as ambassadors of goodwill, shaking the cricketing world to its core. The attack was widely condemned, and its aftermath was swift—New Zealand, which was scheduled to tour Pakistan for an ODI and Test series, canceled its visit. Security concerns escalated to the extent that the 2009 Indian Premier League had to be relocated to South Africa. The 2011 ICC Cricket World Cup, initially set to be co-hosted by Pakistan, India, Sri Lanka, and Bangladesh, saw Pakistan being stripped of its hosting rights altogether. The tournament’s organizing headquarters, originally based in Lahore, were shifted to Mumbai. In the end, no international teams were willing to play in Pakistan, leaving the country isolated from the cricketing world for years.
The ICC Champions Trophy was set to be hosted in Pakistan, marking the first ICC event in the country since the 2009 terrorist attack on the Sri Lankan cricket team. However, except for India’s matches, all other games are being played in Pakistan. India refused to travel—not just due to security concerns but as a protest against Pakistan’s continued support for terrorism in Kashmir. As a result, all of India’s matches are scheduled at the Dubai International Stadium. Sunday’s clash between India and Pakistan was more than just another cricket match—it was a moment that deserved a deeper analysis. India secured a convincing victory, defeating Pakistan by six wickets. Batting first, Pakistan set a target of 241 runs, with notable contributions from Saud Shakeel and Mohammad Rizwan. In response, India chased down the total comfortably, powered by an unbeaten century from Virat Kohli—his 51st ODI hundred. This win cemented India’s position at the top of Group A, ensuring their spot in the semi-finals, while Pakistan now faces a real threat of elimination. While most sports analysts are placing the blame on Pakistan’s playing XI, I see things differently. Pakistan’s losses—whether against India or New Zealand in their opening match—are not just about poor team selection or on-field strategy. The real issues run far deeper. In the next section, I will dissect the underlying problems in Pakistan, of which the downfall of its cricket team is merely an offshoot.
In South Asian countries, international cricket is one of the biggest platforms where players represent their nations with pride. Playing for a national cricket team is, in itself, a testament to one’s nationalism. However, when it comes to the Pakistan Cricket Team (PCT), a deep-seated issue hinders its progress—the infamous ‘Parchi’ culture. This refers to a system where players are selected based on personal connections within the board rather than on merit. Those inducted through such favouritism often face humiliation from their own fans, who chant ‘Parchi Parchi’ from the stands, exposing the lack of credibility in team selection. This is precisely why I argue that Pakistan did not lose its matches solely because of the playing XI—it lost due to this entrenched Parchi culture. The team comprises players who, in reality, struggle to justify their place even in domestic cricket, let alone an international tournament. For instance, Imam-ul-Haq’s inclusion has less to do with his performance and more to do with his familial ties—he is the nephew of former PCT captain and PCB board member Inzamam-ul-Haq. Similarly, during the Champions Trophy opener against New Zealand, when Khushdil Shah came to bat, the crowd erupted in chants of ‘Parchi Parchi.’ Another glaring example is Tayyab Tahir, a player with consistently poor performances who, despite repeated failures, remains a regular in the playing XI. The influence of favouritism extends beyond player selection. When Babar Azam was captain, former skipper Shahid Afridi reportedly used his influence to sideline him, paving the way for his son-in-law, Shaheen Afridi, to take over the captaincy. The selection for the Champions Trophy further exposed this bias, as deserving players like Shadab Khan, Abdullah Shafique, and Iftikhar Ahmed were shockingly left out of the squad. Pakistan’s deep-rooted corruption has tainted every institution, and cricket is no exception. The decline of the national team is not just a matter of poor gameplay—it is a reflection of a failing system where favouritism triumphs over talent.
As international cricket returned to Pakistan after more than a decade with the Champions Trophy, the opening match at Karachi Stadium painted a grim picture—empty stands. Former England captain Michael Vaughan took to X, remarking, “Great to see the Champions Trophy being played in Pakistan. First major event since 1996. Have they forgotten to tell the locals it’s on? Where is the crowd?” While this observation might suggest a lack of enthusiasm among the people, the reality runs much deeper. The problem isn’t with the spectators; it’s with the dire economic regression Pakistan is going through. The country’s financial turmoil has left even basic survival a challenge, making sports attendance a luxury. But beyond the economic crisis, the greater concern is Pakistan’s deteriorating security situation. In a country where terrorism remains a persistent threat, no public gathering—whether sports or otherwise—can thrive. Even those who might have wanted to attend must have second-guessed their decision, fearing the possibility of an attack. Under normal circumstances, the return of international cricket should have been a cause for nationwide celebration—a festival of sorts. However, as I have always believed, no place engulfed by terrorism can truly progress. The empty stands at Karachi Stadium weren’t just a reflection of disinterest; they were a telling sign of a nation in turmoil, where fear overshadows festivity.
Pakistan’s downfall in cricket is not merely about poor performances on the field—it is a reflection of the country’s crumbling foundations. A system plagued by corruption, nepotism, and economic despair will inevitably produce a national team that lacks merit, resilience, and competitive spirit. The Parchi culture in Pakistani cricket mirrors the larger crisis within the country, where connections trump talent, and mediocrity is rewarded over merit. Beyond cricket, Pakistan’s inability to provide security, financial stability, or even a sense of normalcy for its people is evident in the empty stadiums during the Champions Trophy. A nation gripped by terrorism, political instability, and economic ruin cannot expect its citizens to celebrate the return of international cricket when survival itself is a daily battle. The empty stands in Karachi were more than just a cricketing embarrassment—they were a loud and clear rejection of a system that has failed its people on every front. Pakistan did not lose to India because of its playing eleven; it lost because of the rot that runs deep in its institutions, a rot that extends far beyond the cricket field. Until Pakistan cleans up its governance, eradicates corruption, and restores law and order, no amount of talent, coaching, or captaincy changes will save its cricket—or its future.

The writer is a student activist and can be reached at soulofkashmir1@gmail.com