The England-India series celebrated Mohammed Siraj's bravery, as he remained the last pacer standing in a gruelling tour.
If cricketers were definitions, some would write themselves.
But Mohammed Siraj?
You pause. You search. Because he’s not generational. His Test average of 31.05 won’t land him in cricketing folklore. He’s not consistent. He’s not a record-breaker. He may never be feared.
So then, what is he?
Sometimes, it takes the smallest moments to answer the biggest questions.
On a tense Monday morning at The Oval, with England needing just 11 runs and one wicket standing between them and a series win, Siraj stood at the top of his mark, ready to bowl his 30th over. At the crease were Gus Atkinson and a hobbling Chris Woakes, his arm in a sling. The day had begun with England requiring 35 and four wickets in hand, and it had now come down to the final few overs.
On the last ball of the 84th over, England stole a leg bye as wicketkeeper Dhruv Jurel struggled to remove his gloves in time. Siraj, already simmering, turned mid-over and screamed in frustration at his captain. Later, Gill would laugh: Siraj had told him to pass on a message to Jurel, but before it could be relayed, he was already into his run-up.
Maybe this is Mohammed Siraj – chaotic, earnest, energetic, hyper. Even in that moment, when he should’ve been weary and empty, he had enough fire to sparkle, enough will to bowl, and enough soul to care. 185 overs into a soul-sapping series. And still, the first to charge in.
When you think about him, truly think, you find yourself moved. Not by what he does, but by what he projects. Mohammed Siraj is not defined by stats. He is defined by his tears.
You remember him standing still, shoulders slightly hunched, during the national anthem in Melbourne on debut, barely weeks after losing his father, eyes filled with tears as he kept wiping his face. You remember him returning home after that series, head bowed at his father’s grave, after leading India’s bowling attack in a famous win at the Gabba while still only three Tests old. You remember the 2023 World Cup final, crying for a dream that slipped away. You remember him being released by Royal Challengers Bengaluru and, months later, walking back to his mark to bowl at "Kohli bhaiya", having had to snap himself out of the trance of bowling to his idol.
Siraj does not ask for your attention. He commands it by simply showing up, over and over again, with heart and hurt stitched into his very being.
And still, for years, it felt like he wouldn’t quite make it. In a team where greatness is everywhere - where someone is always scoring faster, bowling better, glowing brighter – Siraj’s story felt unfinished. Not particularly effective with the old ball, as Rohit Sharma once said. Not the kind to make the opposition nervous by name alone.
So when India travelled to England in 2025, and Bumrah was unavailable for two Tests, few gave them a chance.
But five weeks later, it ended 2-2. And the two games India won? They came without Bumrah. Siraj claimed 6-70 and 1-57, and 4-86 and 5-104 in those matches. It wasn’t about what India lacked without their spearhead, but what Siraj became in his absence: the leader they could turn to, again and again, regardless of the match situation or pitch conditions. While others rotated in and out, sat out with niggles, or found themselves short on rhythm, Siraj just kept going, still clocking over 140 kmph.
Also Read: Why is Mohammed Siraj so much better without Jasprit Bumrah in the XI?
It was not just about the heart. There was craft, too. Siraj induced 283 false shots through the series, the most ever by an Indian quick in a five-match contest since data has been maintained. On day two of the last Test, when England were building what looked like a commanding lead, it was Siraj who broke through. Across a long, skilful spell after lunch, he took three wickets, none better than Jacob Bethell’s, who fell to a perfectly executed yorker after being set up by deliveries that shaped away. It was a wicket Siraj would later call his favourite of the series.
In that innings, Siraj bowled extended spells, picking up wickets in the first, fifth and seventh over. Two days later, in yet another lengthy bowling session, he trapped Ollie Pope with a nip-backer, and was lucky to not take more than one wicket that day.
Monday morning, though, was different: almost every delivery moved away, catching England by surprise. They expected the ball to dart back in, but now they were facing consistent outswing from an 80-over-old ball, landing just short of a full length, with both seam and swing on offer.
It should have made Siraj happy, and yet, for much of that last day, he was convinced it would be remembered for something else entirely.
A day earlier, he had failed to avoid the boundary while catching Harry Brook. Brook was on 19 then and England 137-3, and the match delicately poised. By the time he was dismissed, Brook had 111 to his name, and the partnership had swelled by another 164. Siraj walked straight up to Prasidh Krishna and apologised. Later, he called it a haadsa (tragedy), a game-changing moment. He didn’t hide behind excuses. He didn’t deflect. He blamed himself almost dramatically, as if the weight of the entire match had been placed on his shoulders. And you knew he wouldn’t stop blaming himself.
It wasn’t the first time Siraj had stood at the edge of heartbreak. At Lord’s earlier in the series, he had added vital runs alongside Jadeja. Just as it seemed like he had done enough, the ball rolled off the middle of his bat onto the stumps. He dropped to his haunches, devastated.
The grief wasn’t just about the dismissal. It was the deeper ache; the feeling that even when he did everything right, the game still refused to cast him as the hero. He thought maybe that’s how his story was to end.
And then, with England nine down and the cricketing world holding its breath, the moment arrived.
His 1,113th delivery of the series, a full, searing yorker at 143kmph. Atkinson tried in vain to get his bat down in time. The off stump was knocked out. The crowd erupted, India were ecstatic.
In the middle of the chaos, Siraj remained calm. The Siu, representing belief, drawn from the Cristiano Ronaldo wallpaper he had set that very morning.
This time, there were no tears. Not from him.
But I cried. Like I had after the 2023 final. Or when the bat rolled onto the stumps at Lord’s. For a player from Hyderabad, the son of an auto-rickshaw driver whose story, one that seemed destined to break him, finally made him a hero, away from the shadows, shining bright.
He is heart. He is fight. He is everything that refuses to break, burning endlessly for his team and his country, an unwavering light.
He is heart, he is Mohammed Siraj. And that is more than enough.
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