England Overcomes Early Collapse to Beat Pakistan

England needed 130. On a surface that had misbehaved all match, against a Pakistan attack suddenly alive with belief, it was anything but a formality.

Within six balls, it looked like a collapse for the ages was on the cards.

Ben Duckett lasted one delivery. Mohammad Abbas, nagging as ever, kissed the outside edge and the ball flew through to the keeper. Edgbaston fell silent. Pakistan’s cordon roared. One ball into the chase and England were already wobbling.

Five balls later, the ground grew even more tense. Emilio Gay was pinned in front by Abbas, trapped on the crease and given lbw. England 2 for 2. The target still miles away. Pakistan, written off the previous evening, were suddenly hunting something extraordinary.

This was the scenario their debutant Razaullah had sketched with the bat on the third evening, when his counterattack had dragged Pakistan back into the contest and turned a routine chase into a live, nervy one. Now, with the new ball in his hand, he had the chance to finish what he had started.

Instead, the game slipped away.

Razaullah’s first spell with the ball bled runs and let England breathe. Length wavered, nerves showed. The early pressure that Abbas had built began to leak. Pakistan reacted quickly, turning to Mohammad Ali in search of another jolt.

For a heartbeat, they thought they had it.

Ali went full and straight at Joe Root, and the off stump cartwheeled. Pakistan’s fielders took off in celebration. Root, England’s anchor, appeared gone for a duck and the chase in tatters.

Then came the killer detail: Ali had overstepped. The replay showed a clear no-ball. Root turned back, a reprieved man. Pakistan’s shoulders dropped.

The punishment was immediate. Root drilled the next legal delivery to the rope, a statement stroke from a player who has made a career of turning second chances into match-winning epics. In the following over, Jordan Cox joined in, finding his first boundary and settling the nerves that had gripped the dressing room and the stands alike.

Pakistan still had their moments. Abbas, relentless, drew a thick edge from Root that flew at a catchable height between first and second slip. Neither moved. Both watched. The ball skidded away, another chance gone, another crack in Pakistan’s resolve.

That was the moment the tension broke.

From there, Root and Cox took ownership of the chase. The target was small enough that they never needed to force the pace, and they knew it. They left well, picked off anything loose, and quietly dismantled what remained of Pakistan’s resistance. Each boundary felt heavier than its four runs, chipping away at the visitors’ hope.

Root, so often England’s crisis man, eased past fifty with yet another crisp boundary, the shot that also carried him to the record for the most half-centuries in the format. No theatrics, no wild celebration, just a brief acknowledgement and back to work. It was the kind of landmark that fits him: rooted in consistency, built on days exactly like this.

At the other end, Cox seized his moment. Given the chance in a high-pressure chase, he played with a composure that belied his experience, growing more assured with every over. His own fifty arrived as Pakistan’s challenge faded, a reward for calm decision-making on a morning that had begun in chaos.

By the stroke of lunch, it was done. The pair had stitched together an unbroken century stand, guiding England to 133 for 2 and wrapping up an 8‑wicket win that looked far simpler on the scoreboard than it had felt when they were 2 for 2 and staring at a crisis.

Pakistan had the door open, the crowd anxious, the game alive. They just couldn’t walk through it.