When will Pakistan get serious about winning trophies?

The two security guards stood there, chatting away idly. They hadn’t clocked Mohammad Rizwan‘s increasing frustration, though if anyone needed to learn how maddening it is when someone holds a game up, it’s probably Rizwan. But the guards chatted on, apparently oblivious to where there were stationed. It was hard to blame them; this was, in some ways, a placeholder masquerading as a cricket match.

And it was a bit of a tedious one. So much, in fact, some of the fans in the stadium couldn’t take the delay any longer, and took it upon themselves to shoo the guards away. But it wasn’t until someone in a stronger position of authority, wearing a more important-looking uniform, came over did the guards clear off.

The game could finally resume. It was drawing to a close anyway. Pakistan needed a handful to win and there was plenty of time to do it in. Rizwan was scratching his way to his half-century; he would finish on an unbeaten 53 off 53 deliveries. Just earlier, Babar Azam, with whom he had put together a 63-run partnership off 62 balls, was dismissed for 33 off 33 balls. If this is to be the end of an era, there could hardly be a more apt way for “RizBar” to sign off.

If anyone turned up in Nassau County expecting a bruised Pakistan to secure some sort of statement win, they witnessed instead Pakistan serving up another sample of the turgid template this team has obsessed with perfecting. The bowling was inconsistent and yet fiery at all the right moments, much too good for a Canada unit that did well to scrape their way to 106. Pakistan approached the chase with all the enthusiasm of a government official tending to a member of the public, taking the greatest possible time to provide the most minimally satisfactory performance possible.

Pakistan may have legitimate grievance with a New York surface that seems to take a personal affront to run-scoring, but Babar’s side has never needed extra motivation to rein themselves in. On a much more productive surface in Dallas, they scratched their way to a below-par 159 and ended up getting done in the Super Over. At times, this appeared an extension of the tortured chase Pakistan bungled against India. But in circumstances that weren’t quite as tense, a bowling unit that wasn’t quite as fierce, and a target that was marginally smaller, the margins that had swung against Pakistan two days earlier ended up going their way.

Saim Ayub, who gets boomeranged into the side every time the PCB feels the heat on Babar and Rizwan intensifying, and back out as soon as it eases, returned to the top of the order. Having been out of form of late, he wasn’t about to rediscover it on this surface, and was gone for a 12-ball 6, attempting a heave that would have probably flown out of Rawalpindi if this was the PSL. But, as Iftikhar Ahmed, Mohammad Haris, Haider Ali and Azam Khan have all discovered, this isn’t the PSL. And, for some inexplicable reason, when other teams promote high-intent players who have excelled in T20 leagues around the world, they seem to be able to replicate that success. But a hitter getting drafted into a Pakistan side is a bit like Manchester United appointing a new manager; they might be excellent before they joined, but, for some reason, no longer are.

It could be that all the players are useless and overpaid. Or, perhaps, if your favourite player had been selected instead of the one you believe is a #fraud, Pakistan might find themselves in a different position. Maybe if they were a little more overtly patriotic, and kissed the badge a few times, that would do the trick. Possibly, a different captain would have solved the puzzle. If only Pakistan had nine rather than seven men on the selection committee, or four team managers rather than the paltry two they sent with the squad. Or, if the chief data analyst had been a former minister for housing and works rather than fisheries and forestry.

Or it might just be the case that the PCB has rarely been serious as a cricket board, and it’s little surprise that it often ends up producing teams fundamentally unserious about challenging for the biggest prizes. Their last two ICC finals wouldn’t have happened if Roelof van der Merwe hadn’t taken a stunner, or if Thisara Perera hadn’t dropped a sitter. There is only so long that lamp can be rubbed before even the genie begins to feel they are being exploited.

But those miracles are still more likely than structural reform. And so, on the day, Pakistan made sure they took one step closer to yet another shot at salvation. There was none of the flair the Pakistan of yore seemed to have trademarked, but they know their progress depends on sunshine in Miami, not their strike rate in New York. It might end up being a hollow win that only scratches the surface. And for the changes that will likely follow after they exit this tournament, that is perhaps an apt metaphor.