Why Test cricket is not so boring, despite appearances

The National

31-07-2025

I'm no cricket fan. I watch it infrequently, and that too towards the end of a game – which means the last five overs or so – when you hear from seemingly every other Indian you know that there's excitement building.
But the past few weeks of watching Test cricket without loathing that time in front of the TV (which is sometimes muted, depending on who the commentators are), has come as a surprise. Without getting into the weeds too much, a Test match is where two international teams play each other over five days, with each team batting twice (two innings each) with the aim of scoring more runs than the other team, while having to bowl all the batters out.
Thankfully, these matches grow into the weekend. The anticipation builds. People stay put on sofas watching ball after ball, run after run, given reason occasionally to exult.
The fifth and final Test match of India's tour of England starts on Thursday, ends on Monday. The series started in June and will end in August. It's been a summer of sporting distraction.
To explain to cricket atheists what the fuss is can be pointless, especially as there can be instances, like last week, where after five days the match ends in a draw or a stalemate.
It may be no use trying to persuade the uninterested that there is a pay-off to sticking with it, watching patiently for grit and character of these players to rise to the surface. Five days is just more demanding than a match that's over in 90 minutes, three hours or even eight hours, in any sport. Muscles begin to complain, and the consistency required can be mentally wearing for the players even as it is their job to overcome these obstacles.
I don't remember the last time I voluntarily watched Test cricket. World Cup games are different; those are quicker, played over eight hours, often social affairs, and wickets always seem to fall just as you get up for a loo break.
It is unremarkable perhaps to have found an interest – even astonishingly, respect – for a game that is hardly short of admirers, at least in Commonwealth countries where they are mostly played, and has been around since the 1800s. Its old-fashioned quality is partly why watching it can feel comforting. Its dipping viewership numbers, however, are understandable – especially given that Test cricket is not about instant gratification. It doesn't feel easy. It is not immediately rewarding. It requires patience, both playing it and watching it. Its essence seems to have delightfully little overlap with the constant turnover of TikTok or Insta reels.
I don't remember the last time I voluntarily watched Test cricket. It is unremarkable perhaps to have found an interest – even astonishingly, respect – for a game that is hardly short of admirers
Yes, you could watch 15-second highlights if you've missed chunks of the match, or just want to relive a segment of sporting excellence. But relying solely on them is taking a shortcut and not putting in the hours to 'stay with' and watch the bowlers, the fielders, the batters who've been at the crease (where they stand) for hours, chipping away, steadily accumulating runs, working for the team and displaying, you hope, at some point or another during the match: form, fitness, flair, strength, ability and determination, despite the exhaustion of playing the whole day in the sun.
All these grand life themes are often on display on the field for five days. The duration though is not the least of what in the past I have found about the game to be brimming with tedium and just plain unwatchable. The monotony seemed lethal – a green field with specks in white uniform not moving around very much. The measured commentary, not too high or low pitched, little variation in tone, used to be ideal white noise to nap to (and can still be, depending on who has the microphone).
Even as I can't claim to be able to tell the difference between a fielding position from a shot played or a ball delivered – what is a mid-off? what is a leg bye? why does no one yell 'Googly!' anymore? – it's not hard to know which players are having a bad day at the office, who's had a longer streak of terrible luck, and who is harnessing some preternatural gift to talk to the bat. This can be moving to watch.
On a regular day, where exuberance isn't really an every-hour event, it's presumably alright to look forward to what moves you. And to root for the team that you do and see if they're up to the task.
But those playing for the love of a vocation that demands all that raw stuff – endurance, steadiness of purpose and the steeliness to perform for your team and country – even as they're buoyed by several thousands of cheering fans in the stadium, and so many more remotely watching on screens, deserves a degree of admiration.
It takes time perhaps to learn to see what it's about. And build an appreciation for the physical and mental calibre required.
One then thinks of the work and practice that would have gone in for years before these players reach a level where they can take the stage, at the historic Lord's Cricket Ground in London, or at the Melbourne Cricket Ground, or Kolkata's Eden Gardens, or wherever. For that, regardless of the eventual score and who takes home the trophy, even an unwilling fan can at least willingly clap.