From Uber to the Nets to Trent Bridge: How English Sport Learned to Believe Again

From Uber to the Nets to a Century at Trent Bridge

Twelve months ago, Ben Duckett was drunk in Noosa, unable to find his way back to the team hotel, filmed asking strangers if they needed an "Uber to the nets, bro." England had just imploded through an Ashes series, and his career was teetering on the edge.

On Friday, Duckett walked out at Trent Bridge—the same ground where, in 2022, he had played one of the most majestic innings of his career, a 149 at Headingley that briefly made him the best multi-format opener on the planet—and calmly compiled 113 runs against New Zealand in the series-deciding third Test.

The transformation isn't cosmetic. "Five or six kilograms" lighter, according to his own count, Duckett has rebuilt himself through sheer will and difficult decisions. He turned down a debut in the Indian Premier League—likely the only chance he'd ever get to play in the world's biggest franchise tournament—to return to county cricket with Nottinghamshire and rebuild his game.

"This time last year I had a legitimate claim to be the best multi-format opener in the world," Duckett has said. The claim wasn't hubris. But 14 Test innings without a half-century, an Ashes average of 20, and that now-infamous footage in Australia? That nearly erased everything he'd built.

What's striking is the clarity Duckett had about the path back. While England reset under new leadership, Duckett didn't just wait for his reputation to carry him. He pulled out of commitments, went back to basics, and trusted the process. The result—a seventh Test century, scored at nearly a run a ball on his home ground—felt less like a surprise than a destination.

Duckett's story isn't unique in English sport right now. It's a rhythm playing out across football pitches and cricket grounds alike.

On the football pitch, Harry Kane was quietly rewriting history, surpassing Gary Lineker's World Cup scoring record with his 11th career goal at the tournament. Against Panama, he didn't just score—he announced himself as England's greatest World Cup goalscorer. Meanwhile, Jude Bellingham, just 20 years old, was earning "he's that guy!" praise from pundits for his "desire and hunger" in the same match.

Over in women's cricket, coach Charlotte Edwards has England "never more confident" heading into a World Cup semi-final. Her group has racked up 200+ scores against Sri Lanka and Scotland, chased down 164 with 2.4 overs to spare, and done it with the kind of belief that comes from a dressing room genuinely connected.

"The goal was to win the group," Edwards said. "To go through unbeaten is really pleasing."

There is something shifting in English sport—a belief that seems to flow between disciplines, between generations. Young players like Bellingham and 18-year-old Kerim Alajbegovic (who scored a stunning opener for Bosnia against Qatar) are normalising excellence. Veterans like Duckett are finding second winds. Coaches like Edwards are building cultures where the goal isn't just winning, but winning without fear.

The third Test continues at Trent Bridge. Tom Latham made a "fabulous" century for New Zealand on day one. The Kiwis posted 438. And still, England fought back—with Duckett's century at the heart of the response.

That's the thing about belief. Once it takes hold, it doesn't just help you win games. It helps you rewrite what you thought you were capable of.