Cricket and the cadence of care  

By Nimish Mathur, MBBS, Johns Hopkins Observership Program, with Carolina Musri, Johns Hopkins Medicine 

“For me, test cricket embodies life . . . It is the highest form of the game that teaches you endurance, discipline and adaptability, against all odds.”

– Sachin Tendulkar 

When I first came to the U.S. as an observer in the department of hospital medicine and Johns Hopkins, I expected medicine to be a universal language. However, the culture of care felt different in ways I couldn’t immediately name. While formal medical education prepared me for science, subconscious lessons imbibed growing up in India prepared me for the art of medicine. It was only when I fell back on my lifelong love for cricket that I began to understand that while some parts of medicine mirror a T20 match—all explosive action and immediate results, others a strategic one-day match, the profound work of healing has the rhythm of a Test match. A cricket Test match is the longest form of the sport played over five days. It’s a test of patience, endurance, skill, and strategy, and is considered the highest standard of the game.

In a Test match, victories aren’t seized in a single moment of brilliance but are earned slowly. Ball by ball, over by over, day by day the batting side tries to put runs on the board, and the fielding team coordinates to defend and take wickets. A small, quiet victory like easing a patient’s is like the singles and doubles that slowly accumulate into a winning total. 

In cricket, the pitch changes more as the game progresses, demanding constant adaptation from the team. A match is won by the collective, and these analogies couldn’t be truer in medicine. I watched the medical team—physicians, dietitians, nurses, pharmacists, social workers, therapists, and case managers—huddle up. For example, from short “strategic time-outs” to a complete end-of-day analysis, these were not quick exchanges of data but true strategic sessions. It was in these moments that I deeply understood the essence of holistic care: discussing the day’s plan, anticipating obstacles, and coordinating care. 

Perhaps the most profound lesson a Test match teaches is about the nature of victory itself. While we always strive to win, sometimes the best and most courageous effort is to secure a draw. It’s in those quiet, honest conversations about what a patient truly wants, in goals of care discussions, that I began to understand why the goal must sometimes shift. The team fights on, not for a decisive victory, but for something far more meaningful: to defend against pain, to decrease progression, to ensure quality of life, or in some unfortunate instances to bat out with dignity.  

In these long, hard-fought matches, we learn that the greatest victory in medicine isn’t always to conquer, but to comfort, to endure, and to honor the profound resilience of the human spirit. This has taught me that a physician’s greatest privilege is not to direct a game, to diagnose or to treat, but to honor the profound, human journey of every person who allows me to walk alongside them as their medical companion. 

Here are a few things I’ve learned from cricket about patient care: 

1. There’s power in patience.

Meaningful progress is often a slow accumulation of small, consistent acts of care, not a single moment of brilliance. 

2. Care is a collective effort. 

True holistic care is a coordinated effort; the strategic insight that comes from a team’s shared discussion is more powerful than any single perspective. 

3. The courage to redefine victory. 

When a cure is no longer the primary goal, the greatest victory is found in ensuring a patient’s journey is one of grace and comfort. 

This piece expresses the views solely of the author. It does not necessarily represent the views of any organization, including Johns Hopkins Medicine.