- August 5, 2025
Cricket has a funny way, much like life, of flipping the script when you feel that a side is ‘game over’. England were cruising at 300 for 3, with Joe Root and Harry Brook putting on a batting clinic, chasing down a target that seemed all but wrapped up. The fans had a pint in one hand. What then followed was a disintegration that reminded everyone why Test cricket is the ultimate test: not just skill, but nerve. So, what happened? Let’s dissect that moment in time when it all evaporated for England.
When Brilliance Meets Risk: The Brook Moment
First, let’s begin with Harry Brook because that was the place to start. Brook had played a blinder – as fluid and fearless as ever and with the audacious and entertaining strokes we have come to admire. But high reward comes with high risk, and, unfortunately for England, it was the high-risk element that clicked at the worst possible time.
At first glance, Brook’s dismissal while playing an aggressive shot may not have seemed disastrous. But it was the catalyst that broke the innings’ rhythm. He had been batting like a man on fire, and I am sure he will sit there afterwards with a vague sense of regret. But it is a tough call. If we congratulate him on the shots that brought him to 100, we can’t suddenly chastise the very same intent that led to his downfall. This is the Brook paradox.
Still, his exit opened the door ever so slightly—and India didn’t need a second invitation.
Bitfield’s Brainfade and Root’s Dead-End
Young and still unwritten, Jacob Bethell had entered a pressure cooker. What followed was not a composed, mature response. Instead, Bethell came bolting down the tracks like a runaway train… and derailed just as quickly. It was a senseless shot that entered the game context. England still had control, Root was well on his way to 100, and there was no need to panic. Nerves do interesting things to people, and Bethell’s wicket was the second domino.
From that point, the tranquility that Root had brought to the innings began to disappear. Not even he could escape from the rising tensions and changing nature of the situation. The ball started doing a bit, the lights came up, and suddenly the Test match was no longer an effortless expedition. Root became bogged down, and then eventually he too fell – an absurd outcome just an hour earlier.
It was like watching a slow deflation of a balloon where no one could find the hole in time.
Siraj, Clouds, and the Rise of Momentum
Credit where it’s due—India didn’t just wait for mistakes; they seized the moment. Mohammed Siraj and Prasidh Krishna were relentless in a crucial eight-over spell after tea, giving away less than a run an over. That, in Test cricket terms, is equivalent to turning the volume down in a nightclub. The momentum shifted palpably.
Siraj, especially, embodied that momentum. He bowled like a man who smelled blood. His line, his length, his energy—it all added up to a suffocating spell. And England, so comfortable not long ago, looked rattled.
This was not just a collapse. It was an absolute Guinea pigs-y case study in how quickly Test cricket can change the narrative. From 300 for 3, England were in a world of total nonsense involving impatience, inexperience, and underestimating changing conditions. Brook’s risk-taking, Bethell’s miscalculation, and failure to recalibrate under pressure all combined to unthinkably open a window for a now resurgent India.
