88 to Get at 154/9, 429 Not Defended: England's Two Collapses Share One Deficit

The ninth wicket had already gone that evening in Lahore. Pakistan were 154 for 9, the last pair needed 88, Haris Rauf was holding a bat and Shadab Khan was holding the other end. England's field was spread deep — to save the boundary, to stop the run, not to take the wicket. The ball went to the bowler who skids it through slow left-arm, because on the flat decks of Rawalpindi and Lahore that was the "correct" selection. For the second time in three days, England slid from a position they should never have left. My pitch notebook records only one image from that moment: after the ball reached the keeper's gloves, the fielders' eyes stayed on the captain, as if searching for an option that simply did not exist.

This tri-series is being played in Pakistan — England, Pakistan, Sri Lanka — and it sits twelve months before a World Cup in southern Africa, which is why it is being framed as a test of process rather than results. Liam Dawson is 36, retired from first-class cricket, has shut the Test door even under a new head coach, and is an established T20 member under Harry Brook. Adil Rashid is 26 wickets from England's all-time ODI record and is fit — yet he has not played either match. The stated logic was that Dawson's skiddy left-arm spin is the more economical option on these surfaces; Nasser Hussain said on Sky Sports that Rashid's performances have "dropped off".

Both defeats share one root, and it is technical: this attack has no high-percentage route to a wicket. In the ODI death overs only two things work — express pace, or mystery spin. With neither, you are reduced to waiting for a batter's mistake. That is exactly what happened at 154 for 9: against containment bowling, Shadab and Rauf played without risk and pulled out an unbroken 89-run tenth-wicket stand — a partnership in which slow left-arm is the least dangerous shape available. In the other match, a reported 429 was not defended; the figure is extreme and needs verification against an independent scorecard, but the deficit was identical.

Do not read Pakistan's last pair as a fluke. A No. 11 and an all-rounder adding 88 with one wicket left is evidence of batting depth and a refusal to panic. On subcontinental flat decks that is a structural asset, and against such a side a control-based attack has no safe place to hide.

The knot is this: England left out their best wicket-taking option in the very match where their inability to take wickets was exposed. The argument for omitting Rashid was control; the reason for the defeat was wickets. Economy keeps a flat-pitch total in check, but at 154 for 9 economy is irrelevant — what is required is the risk a leg-spinner or an express quick provides. This is not a selection failure but a failure in the direction of the question: the system asked "who concedes fewer", when it should have asked "who takes one".

In thirteen years of watching, I have logged one pattern repeatedly: the teams that fear the death overs most are the ones with no genuinely dangerous ball to bowl. Everything else — field settings, slower balls, yorker attempts — is a second-order remedy. Rashid being 26 wickets from a national record tells you he has taken wickets in volume over a long period; if his economy in Asian conditions has deteriorated, the question is not whether to drop him but in what role to use him.

"This is World Cup preparation" is a defensible frame, but it carries a cost the team is not acknowledging. Dawson said the last two games were "a massive positive as a group" because England were "in positions where we should have won". Losing twice from winning positions in three days is not a positive; it is a repeat — and repeats point to capability, not to luck. Calling it a mentality issue is the easy route; mentality is fixed in meetings, and this problem lives in the squad sheet.

The second, less obvious thread: Dawson's defence of Rashid. "You don't play 165 ODIs and become a bad bowler" is proper teammate language. But coming from a 36-year-old who is currently occupying Rashid's place, it is also a protective shield — it publicly closes the door on using his own performances as a weapon against Rashid.

And the question that stayed out of the headlines — succession. By the World Cup, Dawson will be 37 and Rashid around 38 or 39. Both are professionals; neither is the answer to the next cycle. England were not running a spin succession trial in these two matches; they were preserving experience. Every career has a Derby and a Lord's, as I have argued for years, but the frame does not quite fit here — Dawson's problem is not the size of the stage but the definition of the role. He was handed the job that works on a small ground, and the examination arrived the day the ground got bigger.

Thursday is no longer just a match. England's qualification depends on Pakistan beating Sri Lanka and on their own net run rate — half the control now sits with someone else. Qualify, and the language of preparation survives; fail, and that same language becomes a punchline. The real test is not the result but the selection: does England accept that the death overs require a wicket-taking bowler, or does it lose another series to the economy of flat pitches? The most expensive score in cricket is not the one that gets made; it is the one that cannot be defended.