Former Delhi captain Mithun Manhas has sharpened a familiar but unresolved debate in Indian cricket: whether selection should be determined by age profile or by the more immediate evidence of fitness and form. His position is direct and rooted in the practical realities of the game. In a sport that increasingly rewards athleticism, recovery, and consistency across formats, Manhas is arguing that the selection table should be governed by what a player is doing now, not by how old he is.
The comment carries weight because it reflects a long-standing tension in Indian cricket administration and team management. On one side is the instinct to plan for the future by backing younger players. On the other is the equally compelling argument that experience, if backed by performance, should not be discarded simply because a player has crossed an arbitrary age threshold. Manhas's view aligns with a merit-first philosophy: if a cricketer is fit, productive, and meeting the demands of the role, age alone should not become a disqualifier.
Merit Over Numbers
Manhas's stance is especially relevant in a cricketing environment where fitness standards have become more exacting than ever. Modern selection is no longer limited to batting averages or bowling figures. It now includes running speed, fielding intensity, injury management, workload tolerance, and the ability to sustain output across formats and tours. In that context, age can be a useful indicator of career stage, but it is a poor substitute for current capability.
His argument also speaks to the psychological dimension of selection. When age becomes the dominant filter, players can begin to feel that they are being judged on chronology rather than contribution. That can create uncertainty in dressing rooms and weaken the incentive structure that elite sport depends on. A system that rewards form and fitness sends a clearer message: performance remains the primary currency.
At the same time, Manhas's remarks implicitly challenge selectors to be more transparent in how they evaluate players. If age is not the deciding factor, then the criteria must be clearly defined and consistently applied. Otherwise, selection risks appearing subjective, with fitness and form invoked selectively rather than as genuine standards. For a cricketing nation as scrutinised as India, that perception matters almost as much as the decision itself.
Experience Still Counts
The debate is not a simple choice between youth and age. Indian cricket has repeatedly benefited from seasoned players who extended their careers through discipline and adaptability. Experience remains valuable in high-pressure matches, in overseas conditions, and in leadership roles where calm judgment can be decisive. Manhas's point does not diminish that value; rather, it insists that experience must continue to earn its place through performance.
That distinction is important. Age-based thinking can sometimes be a proxy for transition planning, but transition should not become exclusion by default. The best teams often blend youth and experience, using fitness and form as the common standard across generations. In that sense, Manhas is not arguing for sentimentality or nostalgia. He is arguing for competitive logic.
For Indian cricket, the broader implication is clear. As the team and domestic structure continue to evolve, selectors face the challenge of building squads that are both future-ready and immediately competitive. That requires resisting easy assumptions about age and instead making hard, evidence-based calls on who is physically prepared and who is delivering under pressure.
Manhas's intervention lands at a moment when Indian cricket is under constant public and analytical scrutiny. Every selection is dissected, every omission debated, and every call measured against the twin demands of results and renewal. In that environment, his message is a reminder that the most defensible selection policy is one anchored in observable performance. Age may inform the conversation, but it should not end it.