Given all the debate, there is, especially in India, on why it should not be only Lords that should host the finals of the World Test Championship, I make this humble submission as a fan of many things English.
There are many places in the world where cricket is played, but none quite like Lord’s. It isn’t just a stadium—it’s a shrine. A cathedral of sport. For generations, the hallowed turf of Lord’s has hosted the game at its purest and most dignified. If cricket is a gentleman’s game, then this is where its soul resides.
The English can be credited with a few lasting contributions to the world: the English language, the tradition of afternoon tea, a certain cultural elegance—and, of course, the game of cricket. For those who may scoff at that statement, I say this: give up your shirts, trousers, jackets, and ties first. Much of the modern world still leans on the very legacy many are quick to critique.
To call the British heartless conquerors is, in my view, a convenient oversimplification. Many rulers from the land that was ancient India spent huge reserves of their courage and energy fighting amongst themselves. Don’t take my word for it — read up on the Marathas and their sweeping campaigns all the way to Bengal. Plunder and conquest were not unfamiliar themes in India's own history. If anything, the British were guilty of "Thinking BIG" — perhaps more bolder and certainly more conniving — than anyone else of their time. But I digress.
In my opinion, cricket, football, and rugby stand as the greatest sporting contributions the British have made to the world. These aren’t just games — they are metaphors for life: strategy, endurance, community, and passion. Football and Rugby were designed for winter’s grit and grind. One was for the gentleman, the other for the hooligan, one is told. Though these days, given the fan following and how the sport is actually played, you could be forgiven for wondering which was for who.
But cricket — ah, cricket — was made for summer. For long shadows on emerald lawns, for drifting clouds and lazy afternoons, punctuated by the polite clap of a sun-hatted crowd. It is a game that allows the world to slow down and observe grace in motion.
And nowhere captures the soul of summer cricket better than Lord’s. From the iconic red-brick Pavilion to the quirky slope of the pitch, from the hushed reverence of the Long Room to the rising cheer of the crowd—it is not merely a cricket ground. It is history. It is memory. It is ritual. It is beauty—layered over centuries, and still unfolding.
Lord’s is not just the home of cricket. It is where the spirit of the game lives, breathes, and belongs, now and forever!
