Congratulations, West Indies. You’ve done it again. You’ve reminded the world that when the music is loud, the boundaries are short, and nobody has to bat longer than it takes to finish a Red Stripe, you remain an absolute force of nature. Chasing 250 against India in Ranchi with Shai Hope smashing an unbeaten 102 off 45 balls and Sherfane Rutherford going berserk for 84 off 37? Pure Caribbean swagger. Second-highest successful chase in T20 history. Cue the fireworks, the Instagram reels, and the inevitable “West Indies are back!” headlines from people who only watch cricket when it fits between dinner and bedtime. It’s almost touching how reliably the Windies can summon this brand of chaos. Give them 20 overs, a flat pitch, and the promise of franchise contracts, and they turn into a travelling carnival of six-hitting. Rutherford swings like he’s still in a Caribbean Premier League final. For three hours, they are irresistible, making you believe the old magic never left. And then the sun comes up, the pitch starts offering a bit of bounce or turn, and the same team suddenly looks like it has collectively forgotten how to hold a bat for more than 40 minutes. Test cricket continues to treat the West Indies like a particularly cruel practical joke. Bowled out for 27 by Australia in Jamaica. Regular sub-200 totals that barely last until the drinks break. A collective batting average since 2020 that makes you wonder if some of these players have ever seen a red ball outside of a museum. The once-feared pace attack is now a polite suggestion. The batting line-up, once stocked with men who could dominate for sessions, now collapses with the consistency of a poorly built sandcastle at high tide. In T20, they are the cool kids at the party - loud, flashy, impossible to ignore. In Tests, they are the ones who showed up without doing the homework and are now staring at the floor while the teacher asks questions. None of this is entirely the players’ fault. The system that produced the greatest teams in cricket history has spent the last two decades slowly dismantling itself with the efficiency of a controlled demolition. Domestic structures that produce short-form specialists rather than long-form craftsmen. Pitches that encourage hitting rather than grafting. A calendar so dominated by franchise leagues that a five-day match feels like an unpaid internship. Why spend six hours a day in the middle grinding out a fifty when you can smash three sixes in an over, collect a cheque, and be home in time for dinner? The board’s financial struggles only accelerate the exodus. Yet the sarcasm writes itself when people still talk about a “resurgence.” A resurgence in T20 is like being the best dancer at a wedding after three drinks—impressive in the moment, completely irrelevant the next morning. The West Indies have been “resurging” in white-ball cricket for years now. They win a T20 World Cup, look dangerous for a series or two, then quietly disappear when the format requires anyone to stay at the crease past the powerplay. Meanwhile, Test cricket, the format that once defined Caribbean identity, that produced Holding, Roberts, Ambrose, Lara, and Richards - continues its dignified funeral. The occasional win against Sri Lanka or a competitive draw is treated like a renaissance. Every time Hope or Rutherford clears the ropes, someone inevitably starts waxing lyrical about the “Caribbean way,” as if the Caribbean way was invented in 2008 when T20 became profitable. The old West Indies didn’t just entertain for three hours. They dominated for five days. They made opposing batsmen question their life choices. They produced sessions of sustained hostility that felt like weather systems. That version of the team is not “adapting to the modern game.” It is being actively replaced by a product better suited to highlight reels and franchise auctions. So yes, celebrate the record chase. Enjoy the sixes. Applaud Hope for looking like a proper leader under lights. Just don’t insult anyone’s intelligence by calling this a balanced resurgence. The West Indies are currently world-class at the version of cricket that requires the least amount of sustained concentration and the most amount of Instagram potential. In the version that still separates the serious from the spectacular, they remain a cautionary tale wrapped in maroon. (The writer is a senior journalist based in Mumbai. Views personal)
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