Twenty20: fast, fun and here to stay

by Mike Atherton

From the most unpromising beginnings, a great tournament is taking place - the best on this soil since the old Prudential World Cup hijacked the golden summers of 1975, ‘79 and ‘83.

When, on the opening evening of the World Twenty20, the rain fell and David Morgan, Giles Clarke and the Duke of Kent stood on ceremony, stiff-suited, out of place and out of time - like cellists in a bordello - against the backdrop of a near empty members’ pavilion at Lord’s, we feared the worst. The players, though, have put on a magnificent show.

So, too, the administrators, who we are quick to hammer when things go wrong, but who have given us a tournament to savour. The contrast with the 50-over World Cup in the Caribbean in 2007 has been telling: instead of an overlong, sterile competition with a high proportion of dud games, we have enjoyed two weeks of high-octane, lavishly skilled cricket with few mismatches. This has been an event to enjoy, rather than a marathon to endure.

Clearly, given the stirring performances of the Netherlandsand Ireland, this is the format to spread cricket to far-flung corners, because lesser teams are not as disadvantaged as they are in the longer form of the game. Any mismatches are over so quickly, and usually followed by another game immediately, that they are quickly forgotten. Cricket must spread its wings or wither and die and Twenty20 - uncomplicated, fast and fun - is the vehicle to do it.

When Twenty20 was born, the labour was far from painful, but it was as if the midwives couldn’t quite bring themselves to show the baby to the parents. They didn’t have faith in the beauty of the new arrival and so each game had to be jazzed up with dancing girls, pop groups, fireworks and other ancillary entertainment.

It was felt that the first game of Twenty20 in England, at Southampton, needed the combined talents of Alesha, Sabrina and Su-Elise - not Hampshire’s overseas players, but the group Mis-Teeq - to make the thing fizz. It set the template for what was to follow.

The players, initially, didn’t think much of it either. When England beat Australiabefore the Ashes series of 2005, Michael Vaughan, then the England captain, said: “It was a bit of a lottery, it meant nothing.” Ricky Ponting was equally dismissive: “It was just a bit of fun, we’ll just laugh it off,” the Australia captain said. New Zealandplayed in fancy dress and commentators clowned around as if they were Eddie Waring and Stuart Hall reincarnate, offering bon mots about cricket’s version of It’s a Knockout.

There have been dancing troupes and music during each game of this tournament, too, but has anyone really noticed them? I know that it’s hard not to if you are watching on television, since nearly every four is accompanied with shots of them, or if you are at the ground, such is the noise level. But have they been central to the fun? I don’t think so.

Nobody has come up to me in the street - and I reckon more people have talked to me about this tournament than anything since the Ashes 2005 - and complimented the action off the pitch. Twenty20 will move from adolescence to adulthood when it realises that the cricket can speak for itself.

And how. The greatest triumph has been how the bowlers have adapted to the demands of the format. If I had one reservation about Twenty20 at the start, it was that bowlers could become little more than cannon fodder; bowling machines set up for the batsmen’s delectation. Half-volley your requirement, Sir? Whack.

But this was ridiculously short-sighted of me, since students of cricket history will know that it has been bowlers, not batsmen, who have been consistently the more innovative. They have had to be, given the disadvantages that have been thrown at them over the years: covered pitches, helmets, better bats, shorter boundaries and field restrictions. But bowlers are like cockroaches - they survive and prosper no matter the conditions. So they have given us, to combat those disadvantages, bouncers, yorkers, reverse swing, slower balls, googlies, flippers, sliders, zooters and doosras.

There hasn’t been anything revolutionary in the past two weeks from the leather-flingers, at least nothing to compare to the over-the-head shot patented by Tillekeratne Dilshan (called the “starfish” by his team-mates because you have to be brainless to play it), but they have more than held their own. It is no coincidence that the best bowling outfits have taken up three of the four semi-final places. It is why West Indies, the other qualifiers, remain the outsiders.

You know that the batsmen are worried when whispers of ball tampering circulate. Umar Gul has been outstanding, fast and hostile, with an ability to produce yorkers on tap. He is a worthy heir to Wasim Akram and Waqar Younis and had he been of any other nationality, the issue of ball tampering would not have been raised. Gul (12 wickets at 9) is one of four bowlers who have taken double-figure hauls in the tournament, the others being Saeed Ajmal (11 at 10), Ajantha Mendis (10 at 10) and Lasith Malinga (11 at 13).

The last two take my nomination for players of the tournament and are a lesson for those who would try to bend the will of young bowlers to the coaching manuals.

Cricket is a much better game for its non-conformity: Mendis with his flicking fizzers and unerring ability to bowl straight, and “Malinga the Slinger” who covers all bases - he can hit you on the head or the toe at will and has the best slower ball in the business.

With the exception of West Indies, who have bucked the trend and packed their batting, it has been a bowler’s tournament. What more fitting finale could there be, then, than if South Africa played Sri Lanka. The muscular efficiency and power of South Africapitted against the mystery, guile and sheer beauty of Sri Lanka. Smith, Steyn and Kallis or Sangakkara, Jayawardena and Muralitharan? Even the names are more beautiful. It must be Sri Lanka.

India have no divine right to win

Memo to Indian cricket supporters: it is time to grow up. Sport is not about winning, it is about losing. Twelve teams have been taking part in this tournament and only one of them will return winners. The rest will be losers.

They will lose in various ways - some thrillingly, some abjectly - but lose they will. It is what makes the moments of triumph all the more special.

After all, if winning was all that there was, what would there be to celebrate? Indian supporters, the most immature in cricket, cannot seem to grasp this simple fact.

So where once temples were erected in Ranchito deify its most famous son, Mahendra Singh Dhoni, now effigies are burnt. Once the Army had to be called out because the mob had laid homage to a hair salon where Dhoni was having his luxuriant locks lopped off, but veneration has now turned to vituperation.

Burning effigies of losing captains on the sub-continent is nothing new, as Wasim Akram and countless others would testify. It was, though, more understandable at a time when Indian cricket was looking to flex its muscles. In India, as elsewhere, cricket was part of a wider struggle for independence and respect. That battle has been fought and won long ago.

Everybody now accepts that Indiais the epicentre of the world game, just as everybody accepts India as an economic and political powerhouse. There is no more powerful cricketing nation on earth, either financially or in terms of playing resources. But that does not bring an entitlement to victory.

It is time for Indian cricket supporters to grow up and accept defeat as an essential part of the game. Sport is not about winning; it is about losing. Trust me, we in English cricket know more about that than anyone.

Timesonline.co.uk