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Mitchell Starc’s “176.5 kmph” rocket stunned viewers—until broadcasters walked it back. A graphics error? Or a glimpse into how digital tools can wildly distort modern sports narratives?
For a few electric minutes, Starc was the fastest bowler in history—until physics stepped in. Fans went from shock to side-eye as speed gun readings were quietly corrected mid-broadcast.
Shoaib Akhtar’s 161.3 kmph missile to Nick Knight in 2003 remains untouched. Two decades later, no one has truly come close. For pace purists, the “Rawalpindi Express” is still on a track of his own.
Shaun Tait’s raw pace nearly broke radar equipment. He hit 161.1 kmph and left batsmen ducking for cover. Yet injuries kept his career short, a reminder of what bowling at that speed really costs.
Before speed guns, there was Jeff Thomson—whose slingy action terrorized the ’70s. Clocked unofficially at 160.4 kmph, Thommo didn’t need numbers to prove he was the original fast-bowling freak.
Fidel Edwards’ 157.7 kmph bullet wasn’t just pace—it was reverse swing weaponized. In 2003, he lit up South Africa with banana balls and bruises, a deadly combo of flair and fire.
New Zealand’s Shane Bond clocked 156.4 kmph at the 2003 World Cup. But it wasn’t just the speed—his brutal accuracy made him a nightmare. Australia never looked so rattled by a Kiwi pacer.
Starc’s real top speed? A verified 160.4 kmph against New Zealand in Perth, 2015. It wasn’t flashy, it was lethal—and it ripped through Test cricket’s idea of what pace could still do.
Why haven’t we seen 170 kmph deliveries yet? Sports scientists say biomechanics, muscle fatigue, and injury risk make 160 kmph the human ceiling. Starc’s “error” was a viral reminder of that boundary.