Here’s a bold statement: the gap between men’s and women’s cricket pathways is far wider than most people realize, and Abhishek Nayar’s experience as the head coach of the UP Warriorz is shedding light on this often-overlooked issue. But here’s where it gets controversial: could the way we approach coaching and development in women’s cricket be inadvertently holding players back? Let’s dive in.
Just four games into his new role, Nayar is still navigating the nuances of coaching a women’s team. When asked about his experience, he hesitated—caught between honesty and diplomacy. Eventually, he admitted, ‘I’m still wrapping my head around it.’ What’s striking is that Nayar isn’t a novice; he’s worked with international men’s teams, IPL franchises, and mentored players like KL Rahul and Dinesh Karthik. Yet, this transition has been eye-opening.
And this is the part most people miss: Nayar highlights that in men’s cricket, trust and understanding often come from long-term relationships. You can say, ‘Go over covers,’ and players instinctively know how and when to execute. In women’s cricket, however, the attention to detail is far greater. ‘Sometimes you need to break it down in ways that aren’t as obvious,’ he explains. It’s a more hands-on, communicative role, and the players’ receptiveness has been both surprising and rewarding.
What’s fascinating is that Nayar’s team isn’t short on talent. Most of his players are internationals, some even World Cup winners. Yet, the differences in their cricketing journeys are stark. Here’s the controversial part: while boys aspiring to be professional cricketers play year-round, girls’ cricket is often limited to one or two tournaments annually—if they’re lucky. Even at the district level, girls might play just 10-12 competitive matches a year. This lack of game time isn’t just about logistics; it’s deeply rooted in cultural norms.
Let’s talk about those norms. In a country where fairness creams are a ₹5,000 crore industry, skin tanning is still seen as a marriage deal-breaker. Add to that the expectation for young women to spend hours on household chores—over 300 minutes daily, compared to men’s 30—and it’s clear why grassroots participation remains low. Even as women’s cricket gains popularity, these social barriers persist, limiting opportunities for aspiring players.
The result? Talented women cricketers are fast-tracked to higher levels with minimal experience. Of the 11 players who represented India in last year’s World Cup final, six debuted internationally by 17. Their learning happens on the biggest stages—national team, WPL—while men hone their skills at domestic, school, and club levels. Here’s a thought-provoking question: Are we setting women players up for scrutiny by thrusting them into high-pressure situations before they’ve had the chance to develop the ‘cricket smarts’ their male counterparts acquire over years of consistent play?
Mistakes that might seem amateurish to casual observers are often a byproduct of this system. Nayar admits coaching a women’s team hasn’t been easy, but there’s a silver lining: the players’ eagerness to learn. ‘In women’s cricket, they’re very receptive. You can get into the details,’ he says. Yet, building trust takes time, and incidents like Harleen Deol’s ‘retired out’ controversy only complicate matters.
Here’s the bigger question: Can we bridge this gap by rethinking pathways for women cricketers? More matches, better coaching at the grassroots, and challenging societal norms could be a start. But it’s not just about cricket—it’s about equity, opportunity, and changing mindsets. What do you think? Is the system failing women cricketers, or is this just the nature of the sport’s evolution? Let’s discuss in the comments.
