The Sri Lankan cricket board is playing a dangerous game. Eight players, at least, expressed serious safety concerns while in Pakistan for an ODI series and T20I tri-series—enough to want to pack their bags and head home. The trigger? A suicide bombing in Islamabad that killed 12. The board's response? A firm "continue as scheduled" directive, backed by a veiled threat of a "formal review" for anyone who disobeys. Sri Lanka board instructs scared cricketers to not abandon Pakistan tour after Islamabad attack, threatens ‘formal review’ against players returning home early
Let's be clear: this isn't just about cricket. It's about risk assessment, duty of care, and the uncomfortable intersection of sports, politics, and security. The board's stance seems to prioritize the continuation of the series, and the potential financial implications of cancellation, over the genuine fears of its players. We're talking about human beings here, not just assets on a balance sheet.
The proximity of Rawalpindi, where the matches were being held, to Islamabad (about 15km apart), is a key factor. A bombing in the capital, even if not directly targeting the team, creates an atmosphere of palpable unease. It’s not abstract anymore; it’s real, and it's close. The board's assurance that "all such concerns are being duly addressed" rings hollow when weighed against the visceral impact of such an event.
And this is the part of the equation that I find genuinely puzzling. How do you quantify, or even adequately address, a player's fear? Increased security measures might provide a superficial sense of safety, but they don't erase the underlying anxiety. It's like putting a band-aid on a broken leg—it might cover the wound, but it doesn't fix the problem. The Sri Lankan cricket board seems to be ignoring the human element in favor of maintaining the status quo.
The situation is further complicated by the 2009 attack on the Sri Lankan team bus in Lahore. That incident, where gunmen opened fire on the team, left six players wounded and effectively shut down international cricket in Pakistan for nearly a decade. You would think the board would be extra sensitive, not doubling down on pressure.
Muhammad Khaleel, the bus driver from that day, recalled the attack, initially mistaking the gunfire for celebratory fireworks. He saw the Sri Lankan players dive for cover. A grenade landed near the bus but didn’t explode. He decided to drive ahead, thinking, "these Sri Lankans are guests of my country."
That attack, and the memory of it, casts a long shadow. It's not just a historical footnote; it's a lived experience for some of the players and a stark reminder of the potential dangers involved. The board's "formal review" threat feels particularly tone-deaf in this context. Are they suggesting that players who prioritize their safety are somehow derelict in their duty?
The Pakistan Cricket Board (PCB) insists that security has been increased. PCB chief Mohsin Naqvi, who is also the Interior Minister of Pakistan, is supposedly "working closely to ensure safety and security of all 3 teams." However, increased security is a relative term. It doesn't eliminate risk; it only attempts to mitigate it.
The question isn't whether the PCB is doing everything it can, but whether "everything it can" is enough to provide a level of safety that outweighs the players' fears. And that's a question that only the players themselves can answer. (Although they may fear for their careers if they answer honestly against the board).
The Sri Lankan cricket board's actions raise serious questions about their priorities. Are they genuinely concerned about the well-being of their players, or are they more concerned about the financial and political implications of a cancelled tour? The directive to continue, backed by the threat of a "formal review," suggests the latter.
The board's decision-making process is opaque. Details on why the decision was made remain scarce, but the impact is clear: players are being pressured to perform in an environment where they feel unsafe. It’s hard to quantify the level of risk involved, but the players' anxieties are a data point that cannot be ignored.
