Until recently the Indian Premier League had been to me what protecting
Gotham City has been to Batman for the past 73 years; fun on occasion, but
swiftly becoming tedious and largely irrelevant. Where the Dark Knight had to
contend with new, increasingly cunning and malevolent super-villains shortly
after deposing his previous arch-enemy, I’ve had to deal with the excessively
excitable IPL commentary team augment amplified exaggeration and hysteria in to
their appraisal of the action as each season passed. It’s debatable as to who
has had the tougher assignment.
When the concept of the Indian Premier League was first announced it
appeared, to this sceptical purist at least, little more than a glorified
domestic Twenty20 tournament utilising the vast cricketing resources of the
Indian sub-continent to create the greatest money-spinner the sport has ever
witnessed. The pioneers behind the competition have certainly achieved that. I was wrong to underestimate its significance.
I remain very much a traditionalist when choosing cricket à la carte.
Where Twenty20 provides a tasty starter to whet the appetite, Test cricket is
the main course. One Day International’s are very much for dessert; a painful
addition to the meal that you don’t really need when you’ve already reached
saturation, but ultimately indulge regardless. It is no surprise, then, that I have
cared little for the incessant stream of cringe-worthy advertising emanating from
India ahead of each and every IPL season.
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| MS Dhoni's forward defensive |
Yet, strangely, I might just have been won over. Perhaps those
annoyingly histrionic adverts reminding me that the IPL is the 21st
century’s very own Roman gladiatorial games are effective at gaining viewers as
well as inducing involuntary vomit in one’s mouth, after all, and like a vessel
heeding the call of a particularly mischievous siren I’ve been lured in; whether
in to rocky waters or new lands ripe for exploration only time will tell. Thus
far, progress has been satisfyingly serene.
The turning point, it would seem, has been the rather agreeable sight of
a selection of the world’s finest Test match performers wreaking havoc in the
competition, proving that the cream does indeed always rise to the top. We have
heard the term “Twenty20 specialist” banded about aplenty, but the fifth
edition of the IPL has witnessed these ‘mercenaries’, as I tend to call them, convincingly
eclipsed.
It has been a joyous sight indeed to watch cricketers of unsurpassed
ability, Virender Sehwag, Kevin Pietersen, AB de Villiers and Dale Steyn in
particular, unfurl their full array of talents in an environment where
innovation and daring is applauded rather than admonished. Such is the awe in
which I have observed their genius that I’ve even begun to develop an immunity
to those highly irritable phrases in the mould of “and there’s another DLF
maximum for Kevin Pietersen”. Really, Mr Shastri? However you endeavour to
accentuate the shot and lace it with frills it remains a six, but never mind, I
have access to an IPL television viewer’s greatest companion – the mute button.
It’s no bother.
In addition to the child in a sweetshop demeanour of the commentary
team, I still cast many an aspersion at the IPL, let that be clear.
Cheerleaders at a cricket match? What next, popcorn vendors and shoe shiners?
Whilst those good women are undoubtedly talented in their dedicated field, and
provide an arm-chair letch like myself with many an eye-opener, some might
argue it pales in comparison to the majesty of a Kallis on-drive. And players
being wired up to the studio enabling a mid-innings chat – shouldn’t their
undivided attention be on fielding in the one format of the game where each and
every run is so often critical to the outcome? The world’s finest Twenty20 cricketers
have a duty to entertain the cricket loving viewers, not impress them with previously
unbeknownst oratory skills. I'm also against English cricketers playing in the IPL when their county is in action back home, though money is of course king in cricket, as it is with every profession.
I digress slightly. The above are, after all, only minor gripes. I’ve
followed IPL season 5 in a greater capacity than I have afforded any of the
previous seasons. Consistent displays of extremely high quality cricket –
admittedly more from the big name Indians and overseas stars than the younger
cricketers that the tournament is supposed to benefit – have made for
compelling viewing. I thought I had borne witness to every cricket shot and
delivery in the book. I hadn’t. Nothing that these players do on a cricket
field surprises me anymore, such is the rapid rate of innovation in Twenty20
cricket, and the infectious atmosphere and adulation given to the competitors
by a rabid Indian crowd at each and every venue only adds to the enjoyment.
Despite putting up admirable resistance, I’ve finally succumbed to the IPL
bug. What’s not to like about it?

