There are murmurs that Pakistan’s Test captaincy is on the verge of change, with names like Saud Shakeel, Salman Ali Agha, and Mohammad Rizwan being floated to replace Shan Masood for the toughest job in world cricket.
And with that it perhaps, quietly, also signals the end of Shan Masood’s run in the side. It’s understandable. His Test average hovers around 30. He doesn’t dominate headlines. He isn’t a generational talent. Plus, under his captaincy, Pakistan had the “honor” of receiving the Wooden Spoon for the last World Test Championship cycle.
But removing Shan Masood now would risk something far more important than statistics. It would mean botching — once again — a transition phase which Pakistan cricket cannot afford.
Shan Masood is not flashy. When he’s out of form, he can look completely out of depth. But when he’s in rhythm, he’s arguably one of the most aesthetically pleasing batters Pakistan has produced in the past decade, fluent, composed and classical. More importantly, he’s a
professional. One who knows his ceiling, embraces his flaws, and still fights to belong. Not out of entitlement, but out of purpose.
Every time Shan has returned to the Test side, it’s been earned not gifted. No PR campaign. No social media waves. Just the weight of domestic runs and quiet, relentless hunger. It’s his mindset that sets him apart. He’s the kind of cricketer who understands the value of the cap every time he wears it.
When he finally got the opportunity to lead. It was straight into the fire. Away tours to Australia and South Africa, two of the toughest assignments in world cricket. Let’s not forget, Pakistan has never won a Test series in either country. He didn’t win. But he didn’t break either. He didn’t blame the conditions. He didn’t hide behind excuses. He took the bullets and walked through the storm.
The lowest point, however, came with a historic 2-0 Test series defeat at home to Bangladesh.
The criticism was loud and understandably so. It was an embarrassing loss. But let’s be honest: it wasn’t just Shan Masood who underperformed. The entire team fell short. Senior players didn’t step up, key departments failed, and the body language across five days told its own story.
To pin it all on Shan is to ignore the wider truth: this wasn’t just a leadership failure, it was a team failure. Dropping him now would be like blaming the driver when the engine, the tires, and the brakes all gave out. The car didn’t crash because of who was steering — it crashed because every part of it collapsed at the same time.
Shan Masood isn’t the future of Pakistan cricket, but he might just be the reason the future could be better. Pakistan is blessed with exciting young openers: Saim Ayub, Mohammad Huraira, and Abdullah Shafique. All brimming with talent and ambition. But Test cricket is not easy, it’s literally testing your skills among the best players in the world both technically and mentally. You don’t face Mitchell Starc or Kagiso Rabada with flair alone.
You need scars. You need experience.
That’s where Shan comes in. He can be the steady hand at one end while a younger talent finds their feet at the other. He’s there to soak up pressure, to create space for the next generation to breathe, play freely and with clarity.
Throw both Saim and Huraira into the fire together, and it won’t be transition, it’ll be chaos. Pakistan’s history is full of players who were either rushed or wasted. And both outcomes hurt just the same. This time, for once, we have a player who would willingly serve as the bridge.
That’s not a weakness. That’s a luxury.
You can score a thousand runs in first-class cricket, but nothing prepares you for the burden of the badge on your chest. The nerves, the butterflies in your stomach, the anxiety that builds when the national anthem fades and the first ball is about to be bowled. That’s where
experience becomes priceless.
Shan Masood has walked that path. He knows what it feels like to stand at the crease with the weight of expectation and the noise of an entire nation in the background. That’s not something you can teach in nets. But it’s something he can guide young openers through. How to breathe through it, how to think clearly, how to stay present when everything feels too big. Sometimes, just having someone at the other end who’s been there is all it takes for a young batter to settle.
Shan can be that calming presence. The senior player who steadies the ship when the tide gets rough. There’s something else Shan brings to the table. Something often overlooked in the noise around averages and results: a shift in mindset.
Under his leadership, Pakistan’s Test team has tried to play more proactive, entertaining cricket. The intent has been visible — in field placements, batting tempo, and how the team responds to setbacks. It hasn’t always worked. But the desire to move away from Pakistan’s old-school, conservative approach to Test cricket should be admired.
Because if players like Saim Ayub and Abdullah Shafique, already possessing natural flair. If they absorb this mindset, they won’t just survive in Test cricket. They’ll thrive. These are the kinds of cultural shifts that don’t show up in scorecards but define a generation. Shan is trying to modernize Pakistan’s red-ball DNA. And that’s worth praising.
The path forward is simple: rotate. Let Shan hold one opening spot while Saim and Huraira rotate in the other. And lock Abdullah Shafique at No. 3, where he would excel. While the world experiments with false No. 3s, Pakistan has the perfect fit.
Abdullah has the technique and temperament. He’s a “Kitabi player” after all, composed, and built for the red ball. With Shan ahead of him and one of Saim or Huraira beside him, you have a top order that blends experience and promise, exactly what a smart transition looks like.
By the end of this WTC cycle — 2025 to 2027 — the next generation should be ready to take over full-time. And when that time comes, Shan can step aside, knowing he helped them grow under the right conditions with room to fail, to learn, and to rise.
Shan Masood may never be the superstar Pakistan dreams of, but in a dressing room full of raw potential and sky-high ceilings, you need someone who knows what it’s like to fall and still choose to stand up. He might not be captain next cycle. And that’s okay. However, he must
remain in the red-ball setup. Because sometimes, the man who walks you to the door is just as important as the one who steps through it. Just let him stay, just let him open and let him mentor. And when it’s time, let him walk away knowing that for once Pakistan got transition right.
About the Author: Mir Balaach Khan is an undergrad student at UIC double majoring in neuroscience and sports psychology. A diehard Pakistani cricket fan who would love to see Pakistan cricket reach the pinnacle of world cricket and become great again!