I have long felt antipathy to the shorter forms of God’s greatest game, cricket. All those pyjama outfits and the caving in to the pressure of time seemed such a letdown from the timeless (sic), metaphysical challenge of the test match.
Over Easter I have indulged twice in what must be the nadir for the purist: the brash, whiplash, instant gratification that is T20 cricket. Yesterday’s victory for England was a greedy, jingoisitic panacea, but tonight’s enthralling, thrilling, visceral victory by India over Australia is proof that you should never condemn anything until you have tried it.
Indeed T20 cricket confuses your whole idea and understanding of the game…how can players play in such a manner in one form of the game, and so differently in another?
It is brash, it is vulgar, but I would have loved to have been in Chandigarh tonight