Rohan Chowdhury in London
Over 25 unrelenting days of active drama, emotion, and raw sporting theatre, England and India crafted a Test series that may well go down as one of the most compelling in modern cricket. The inaugural Anderson–Tendulkar Trophy ended 2–2, shared for good, but the real victor was Test cricket itself — gloriously unpredictable, achingly human, and impossible to look away from.
Each of the five matches went to the final day. Each saw the pendulum swing wildly. And each delivered moments that struck at the very heart of what makes this format eternal. At a time when cricket’s future seems more aligned with white-ball spectacle, this series offered a powerful counterpoint: Nothing grips quite like the long game.
At Lord’s, India were on the cusp of a famous victory. Twenty two runs to win. One wicket in hand. Mohammad Siraj on strike. Shoaib Bashir, with a fractured finger, returned against the odds. He floated one in. Siraj lunged to defend, but the ball misbehaved cruelly, rising and then dipping — bouncing into the pitch, and crawling back onto the stumps. Siraj stood frozen, his head dropped, in utter disbelief. England won by 22 runs. And the silence that followed in the Indian dressing room said it all.
“When the Lord’s incident happened, and then I dropped Brook’s catch at The Oval, I thought, ‘Why does God do this to me?’” Siraj later said. “But maybe something better was planned for me. And it happened”, he said in the press conference on the last day at The Oval.
At Old Trafford, India were again under siege. Rishabh Pant with a fractured foot this time. He was expected to sit out. But, Pant emerged from the dressing room, limping heavily, his bat doubling up as a crutch. The crowd rose. It was a surreal sight: Part defiance, part theatre. And yet, in 54 runs, 17 with the broken toe, Pant played his part. It was raw courage, the kind that doesn’t fit in highlight reels but lives on in memory, adding valuable runs to India’s 358 in the first innings.
Chris Woakes, England’s silent warrior, had his own act of defiance at The Oval. With his left shoulder dislocated and in a sling, he walked out to bat on the final day, eyes steeled. Every short-run he ran for was agony, and he seemed in too much pain. He and Gus Atkinson dragged England closer to the target, before the final wicket fell. India won that Test, but Woakes had already won the moment.
We have to speak on the other side of the spectrum on the same day. With England needing just 35 runs to win, it seemed over, until Siraj took the ball. The heartbreaks of Lord’s, the missed moments, the emotional toll — it all poured out in a spell of fire and fury. The crowd, which had expected an early finish, especially after two back to back boundaries at the start, was now on its feet. When Atkinson stood frozen as the final ball clattered into his stumps, the Indian team erupted. Siraj sank to his knees. Redemption had never felt more poetic.
What made it all the more beautiful was the audience. England’s fans turned out in full force every single day. Stadiums sold out. Morning sessions buzzed with anticipation. Evening sessions ended with applause, no matter which side was ahead. Test cricket, far from fading, had found its modern voice — and it was loud.
“This is what Test cricket gives you — a second chance,” said Shubman Gill in the press conference. “No other format does that.”
And if a film producer were to ever attempt to bottle the soul of this series, it wouldn’t need a script — just a sequence of real moments. Pant limping down the stairs into the arena. Cut to Woakes walking out, shoulder in a sling. Siraj, head bowed, after the heartbreak at Lord’s. And finally, the bails flying off at The Oval as Atkinson stood still, the Indian players roaring around him in triumph.
No dialogue needed. Just the silence, the sounds, and the slow, unforgettable burn of five perfect Test matches.
Test cricket is not just alive. It is glorious.
For More Exciting Articles: Follow RevSportz