Test cricket is at a weird stage in the larger context of the sport’s development. Everyone seems to love it but it’s still not being watched (or played) enough, in enough countries, for it to be considered not in a crisis. The upcoming generation of cricketers, the Shubman Gills, the Jamie Smiths, the Jayden Seales love it perhaps as much as the ones before them. They know it gets them the ‘respect’ and the satisfaction that T20s and ODIs but would also be seeing several more giving up the format before even turning 30. Is that what makes it so beautiful — the upsets carry more meaning, Temba Bavuma’s triumph feels personal, Jasprit Bumrah gives goose-bumps from the screen? Because we know that it all might start collapsing any moment? The good thing about Test cricket, though, is it has always been existential. These issues that we read daily aren’t new and the sport has survived much worse than some stingy broadcasters. Its history is, in fact, filled with stories that show this tug of war, of personalities pushing it forward and some characters pulling it back. News18 CricketNext spoke with Tim Wigmore, the author of the recently-released Test Cricket: A History to get a meticulous, educated perspective of these narratives, their past, present and future. Edited excerpts: What, when, and where did you get the idea of writing a book about the history of Test cricket? And did it happen in just one moment, or did it happen gradually? What was the idea behind it? Tim Wigmore: So, Simon Wilde wrote a history of England cricket, which came out in 2018. It was a very good book. I was actually talking to him two years later in 2020—we had dinner and he talked about his book. I said, “You know, why has no one written something like this for global Test cricket?” And he said, “You’d have to be mad to try and do that.” He didn’t want to do it. And I said, “OK, maybe I am mad.” And five years later, here we are. I guess what motivated me was that, while there are lots of fantastic histories of individual countries in Test cricket, there hadn’t really been a global narrative—one that weaves in archive research and footage with fresh interviews and tells the story of how these countries intertwine, how what happens in one place affects another. That was my real motivation: to get a sense of the global scope of Test cricket and its story over time. In hindsight, it’s kind of surprising no one had done it before in quite this way—but of course, it took a long time. And yeah, very exciting to have it out now. You start with the story of Fred Spofforth, but how do you even go about collecting material and writing something that, as you said, is so vast—let alone trying to make it engaging for the readers? Tim Wigmore: I was really led by a sense of story. This is not a stats book, not a collection of wisdoms. It’s meant to be read from start to finish, because it’s really about players, matches, characters, and politics, too. I tried to zoom out and think: “If this were a film, how would you tell the story? Who are the main characters in this moment?” So it’s not comprehensive—it’s very much story-driven. That meant zooming in on the most important matches and skipping over ones that just aren’t that significant. In terms of where to start, the Ashes in 1882 seemed like the obvious place. I wanted to begin with Test cricket, not cricket in general. That focus helped me be more precise. There are already lots of books about cricket generally, and they end up saying a bit about everything. But by keeping the focus on Test cricket, hopefully, I was able to give it a new dimension. And yeah, it’s been nice that the book seems to be working for both people who don’t know the full story and for people who do—it seems to offer different things to different readers. From what I’ve read so far, the book is filled with fascinating nuggets. I really loved how you explored umpiring bias, for example. Were there any discoveries during your research that genuinely surprised you or challenged your beliefs about Test cricket? Tim Wigmore: Yes, definitely. One big one was the myth that Test cricket doesn’t change. In fact, part of its survival is precisely because it has changed so much over time. We’ve gone from two to 12 Test-playing countries. Matches have been played over three, four, five, six days—even timeless. Overs have been 4, 5, 6, and 8 balls. We’ve seen the arrival of helmets, the end of uncovered pitches, day-night Tests, and now the World Test Championship. So much has changed. Also, one thing that really struck me was how often teams didn’t pick their strongest XI—because of reasons like class and race. England had amateur captains into the 1950s. West Indies didn’t have a full-time Black captain until 1960. India often had aristocrats as captains. When people talk about a Test match as a nation’s 11 best players, that often just hasn’t been true. In the 1880s and 1890s, England would send what were basically “B” teams to South Africa—they didn’t want to win too easily. In 1930, they even played two Tests simultaneously in different continents! Australia, by contrast, have historically done better than most at actually selecting their best XI. That’s one reason they’ve been so dominant over time. You’ve documented a lot of characters—like WG Grace, Sachin Tendulkar, Muttiah Muralitharan. Were you consciously looking to show how personalities shaped the sport? Tim Wigmore: Yeah, absolutely. WG Grace predates even the first Test in 1877, but he was the first global superstar—he changed the game. Admission fees were literally higher if he was playing. Victor Trumper is another amazing figure. Looking at the reality and the myths around him was really interesting. For instance, in 1902, he was the first batter to score a hundred before lunch in a Test—something that’s only happened six times in history. He still has the fastest runs-per-hour rate in Test history—40 per hour. That tells you how thrilling he must have been to watch. (Don) Bradman, of course, is statistically the biggest outlier in all of sport. Jack Hobbs helped bridge the amateur-professional divide in England. George Headley shattered the trope that only white West Indians batted and Black players bowled. Frank Worrell was the first Black West Indies captain and linked closely to the region’s independence movement. Then you have figures like (Garry) Sobers, (Michael) Holding—who really embodies that West Indian dynasty. Speaking to him was a joy. And of course, Tendulkar. I was struck by how bad India were during his early years—only one away Test win in his first 44 matches! But he carried on. That was special. On the field, players like Adam Gilchrist changed roles: he redefined what a wicketkeeper could be. Shane Warne is interesting because even though he was such an incredible bowler, he didn’t lead to a generation of leg-spinners. If anything, he showed how hard it was. So yeah, the book is filled with characters who defined—and redefined—the game. You mentioned India. You’ve written about MAK Pataudi, the spin revolution, and now Tendulkar. How do you see India’s journey shaping the broader story of Test cricket? Tim Wigmore: Great question. India started playing Tests in the 1930s, but were a weak side—and made themselves weaker by choosing aristocratic captains who didn’t deserve their place. It took 20 years for their first Test win. In the 1930s, India actually had some good pacers. But the character of the side changed. When you get to Pataudi, he’s a hugely important figure. He survives a terrible accident, goes blind in one eye, and still becomes a great cricketer. Now, about the spin strategy—it’s sometimes presented as ideological, but it wasn’t. It was a desperation strategy. Pataudi knew India didn’t have pacers good enough, so he picked four spinners. But he always said India needed fast bowlers to be a great Test team. That vision wasn’t realized until 2010, when India started producing world-class pacers. The first Indian quick to 100 Test wickets was Kapil Dev—in 1979! That’s 47 years after their first Test. Another issue was that, until 2001, India lost two Tests for every one they won. One reason? Most Test players came from just five cities. That changed—and so did their fortunes. Producing batters can be done with good schools and infrastructure. But bowlers? You need a broader talent pool, often from rural areas. India is doing that better now. And yes, today India is a superpower—on and off the field. That’s a very recent shift in the long story of Test cricket. Your book acknowledges pressures from T20 leagues and the Olympics, yet you say Test cricket is still thriving. What, in your view, is its greatest strength? Tim Wigmore: I think it’s the richness of it—the tapestry. The four innings, the second chances, the range of conditions. To be a great Test cricketer, you have to master the seaming ball in Leeds, the bounce in Perth, spin in Chennai—that’s a huge challenge. Winning away from home is so hard. It’s also brutal for the underdog. You can be better for three innings, but have to do it for a fourth. In football or T20, you can win with one moment of brilliance. But not in Test cricket. Take Andy Flower—he averaged over 100 in a 10-match stretch but Zimbabwe kept losing. Once, he scored 142 and 199 not out against South Africa, kept wicket, batted at five—and they still lost by nine wickets! He couldn’t have done more. Yeah, a bit like Bumrah in the first Test? Tim Wigmore: Exactly, a little like that. Did the whole process of research and editing make you fall in love with Test cricket even more? Tim Wigmore: Yes, absolutely. I got a deeper sense of just how much it demands from players—the range of challenges, the interlinking stories. Every Test match is part of something bigger. Take India winning in Australia in 2018-19—the first Asian team to do so. It was a great achievement in isolation, but also in the context of history. No one had done it before. Every Test match builds on what came before. In all my interviews—Tendulkar, Dravid, Ian Chappell, Holding, Kevin Pietersen, Cummins—I could sense how much the history of the game meant to them. They all felt they were part of a story greater than themselves. And I think that’s why Test cricket has endured, despite all the worries about its future—worries that, by the way, have existed since before World War I! Yeah, and unlike other sports, Test cricket is a series—you’re facing the same players again and again, who are also figuring you out. Tim Wigmore: Exactly. Especially for batters, that’s what makes five-Test series so brutal. You can’t hide. You’re up against Bumrah or whoever—day in, day out. That’s a different kind of challenge. In T20 or the Premier League, you’re constantly facing new opponents. In Tests, it’s relentless. And I think that’s why the players who’ve experienced it have such deep respect for the format. And with that in mind—where do you think Test cricket is headed? A Big Three–dominated era? Slow eradication? Or something else? Tim Wigmore: Well, as I said, worrying about the future of Test cricket has been around forever. It’s baked into the game. So that alone isn’t a reason to fear for its existence. I do think it will survive. The real question is: in how many countries will it remain vibrant? That’s down to administrators. Historically, even the idea that Tests are five-day games is a myth—before World War II, only ten such games were scheduled. So I actually think it might be time for four-day Tests. They could be scheduled from Thursday to Sunday—when fans can attend. More importantly, it would allow every series in the World Test Championship to be three matches long. That would make the WTC fairer and easier to follow. I’d like to see every team play 18 four-day Tests over two years—three points for a win, one for a draw. A simple structure. England and India can still play extra matches outside the WTC. But this structure would make things more equitable. We also need Test-only windows—three months a year without franchise leagues. And we need better revenue sharing. Right now, when the West Indies tour India or England, they get no share of the broadcast money. That has to change—share one-fifth of it, reciprocally. Otherwise, small boards can’t survive, and players retire early. That weakens the product. If those things are done—yes, Test cricket can not just survive, but thrive.