Mubashar Nadeem
The much-anticipated tenth edition of the Pakistan Super League (PSL) gets underway tonight at the revamped Rawalpindi Cricket Stadium. A milestone moment in the tournament’s history, PSL 10 isn’t just a celebration of a decade of glitzy cricketing action — it’s also the final chapter of the six-team format, as the league is poised to expand to eight or possibly nine teams next season. To mark the occasion, this year’s edition promises exciting new broadcasting technology and an impressive roster of international stars. But despite the celebratory tone and the league’s evolution, one glaring question hangs in the air: where is the buzz?
For a tournament of such significance, the build-up has been surprisingly underwhelming. There’s little of the usual fanfare, excitement, or anticipation that typically grips the country ahead of a PSL season. One could argue that if you’re not an avid cricket follower, you’d hardly know that the league kicks off tonight. And this subdued atmosphere raises deeper concerns about the state of cricket in Pakistan — concerns that go far beyond just one tournament.
To be fair, PSL 10 is packed with features that would excite even the most casual cricket observer. The introduction of advanced broadcasting tech promises fans a deeper, more analytical view of the game — a perfect fit for a sport where numbers, angles, and strategy fuel endless debates. For cricket purists, this added layer of insight is a welcome addition. Also, the star power this year is genuinely remarkable: Kane Williamson, David Warner, Daryl Mitchell, Jason Holder, and Rassie van der Dussen headline a foreign contingent that gives this edition a truly international flavour. On paper, it looks like one of the strongest PSL lineups ever assembled.
But paper isn’t where the matches are played, and unfortunately, the emotional pulse of the PSL — the fans — seems to be missing. Even with all the glitz, glamour, and technology, the question remains: why does this edition feel so disconnected from the cricketing public?
Part of the answer lies in the disillusionment with Pakistan’s national team. Over the past year, fans have watched their beloved side stumble from one embarrassment to another. Painful defeats to teams like Bangladesh and England, and a particularly humbling exit from the group stages of the 2025 ICC Champions Trophy — held on home soil — have crushed the morale of even the most loyal fans. The Champions Trophy was meant to be a crowning moment for Pakistan cricket, but aside from the matches featuring India, the event fizzled out, leaving disappointment and hard questions in its wake.
The fact is, while foreign stars help elevate the PSL’s profile, it’s the performance of local players that truly drives fan engagement. And when these same players underperform on the international stage, it becomes harder to cheer for them in a domestic league, no matter how many international teammates they’re surrounded by. This disconnect between national performance and domestic fanfare has become a serious problem — and it’s starting to show.
Another issue is the growing perception that the PSL, while commercially successful, has not delivered on its promise to uplift the standard of Pakistani cricket at the grassroots level. Yes, the league has brought in revenue, international exposure, and helped in the development of infrastructure — all commendable achievements. But has it translated into a stronger, more competitive national side? Not really.
Critics argue that the league has become a comfortable bubble for many players. With lucrative PSL contracts in hand, the motivation to excel at the international level seems to be waning. The recent string of underwhelming performances from the national side has only reinforced this theory. In fact, the PSL’s financial rewards may have inadvertently encouraged complacency among domestic stars, providing little incentive to grind harder for international success.
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Even more troubling is the lack of structural progress in Pakistan’s domestic cricket. The PSL cannot carry the burden of reviving the nation’s cricketing fortunes alone. It was never meant to be a substitute for long-term reforms in coaching, youth development, and infrastructure at the club and school level. Yet, for a decade now, policymakers have leaned too heavily on the PSL as the cure-all solution to Pakistan cricket’s problems — and it simply hasn’t worked.
The league should absolutely continue — and even expand — but not without serious reflection and course correction. There needs to be a parallel focus on real domestic cricket reform. This includes improving training facilities, investing in young talent, reviving inter-school and inter-college cricket, and ensuring merit-based selections. It also means holding players accountable — not just rewarding them for a few eye-catching PSL innings, but tracking consistency, attitude, and national team commitment.
It’s worth acknowledging that the PSL has had its moments of brilliance. It has given the country stars like Shaheen Shah Afridi and Haris Rauf. It has shown the world that Pakistan is a safe and passionate host for cricket. And it has certainly been a commercial win for the Pakistan Cricket Board (PCB). But if PSL 10 is to be remembered as more than just a milestone event, it must trigger introspection.
This tournament could be an opportunity to reconnect with disillusioned fans, to show them that Pakistani cricket still has heart, skill, and ambition. But that won’t happen with flashy graphics and foreign names alone. It will happen when local stars rise, not just under stadium lights, but on international pitches. It will happen when Pakistan wins meaningful games, not just exhibition matches. And it will happen when our cricketing institutions begin to serve the game, rather than the game serving their short-term interests.
So as PSL 10 begins tonight, we do so with both celebration and concern. Celebration for how far the league has come, but concern for where our cricket is headed. The stadiums may be packed, and the broadcasts may be slick, but if we don’t fix the soul of our cricket — the grassroots, the national pride, the hunger to win for the country — then we’ll be left with nothing more than a shiny shell.
The PSL should not just be our cricket’s crown jewel; it should be its foundation. But a foundation must support something greater — and that “something” has to be a world-class national team. Until we get there, even the most successful PSL seasons will feel like celebrations built on shaky ground.
