In this new format, the cost of a wicket goes down, the cost of a dot ball goes up – and thus, the value of aggression shoots up. Because there is demand for more aggression, there is a resultant supply from batsmen, who sharpen their attacking skills. These skills are reflected in other forms of the game as well.
It is true that bats today are heavier, grounds are made smaller by boundary ropes and rules like using two balls in ODIs have helped batsmen score more runs. But the two key reasons behind the rise of par scores in the last ten years are respectable cricketing reasons that should delight all fans. One, the game has gained from new strategic insights. Two, in keeping with these insights, and the incentives of the more lucrative T20 form of the game, skills have improved across the board, for batsmen, fielders and bowlers.
In a twenty-over game, just as batsmen don’t have the time to settle down, bowlers also have to be on the game from ball one. They don’t have the luxury to find their groove.
It’s not all that mad, I would argue. Dhoni has himself been circumspect about his chasing philosophy, but the there is a coherent logic behind what he does. At the heart of it is this basic truth about all sport: winning is not about doing something special, but about making less mistakes than your opponent.
Twenty-20 has changed the grammar of the game. Teams still have 11 players each – but 20 overs instead of 50 or more to get their runs in. This creates urgency. This raises the cost of a dot ball and lowers the cost of a wicket.
“Give me some tips, Amit,” he implored, his voice cracking with the pain of years of losing money. “I want to win this year.”
The IPL has spawned similar leagues in other countries, and that’s a damn good thing. T20 cricket is not a tamasha, but a strategically and tactically rich form of the game that has changed the lives of both players and viewers for the better. Long live T20 cricket! Long live the IPL!
You could say that was a mature bunch of guys, and I have no doubt that our current cricketers would be as mature. But is that maturity in evidence among cricket fans and administrators?
You have no doubt arrived at this site to read about cricket, and the last thing you expect is bloody verse. But as this is a game of glorious uncertainties, why should this site be different? Let me begin this column with a limerick.
It is one of the ironies of modern sport that those who become role models are often least ready for it. In other fields, it takes years of hard work and <em>living</em>, and by the time you achieve fame, you might also achieve maturity. In sport, you can be a superstar in your teens. The young are works in progress, and it can be unfair to expect them to become role models when they aren’t even fully themselves. When I was 25 years younger, I was as arrogant as Virat Kohli, as misogynistic as Hardik Pandya, and I thank my lucky stars that I could do my growing up outside the glare of cameras.
I’m tired of the same lazy, ageing ex-cricketers spouting banal clichés. I want choices. Who’s going to provide me with those choices?
This column looks at three situations with different levels of complexity. In all of them, the player involved needs to weigh up probabilities.
Maybe Dhoni himself will walk away with grace. Or maybe the one man who is an even bigger star than him, his captain Virat Kohli, will force the issue.
How did it come to this? Greatness provokes talent, and you’d imagine that a generation of young West Indian kids would be inspired by geniuses like Richards-Lloyd
Watching the game would be a richer experience for us if we focus, as the players do, on the journey and not the destination.