IPL
Watching the new Indian Premier League cricket has been a bit of a mixed bag for me.
It’s great to see more of McGrath, Gilchrist, and Warnie, whom I’ve particularly missed. And the mixed-nation teams can’t help but improve international cricketing relations after that disastrous Australian summer.
It’s also been a pleasant opportunity to put the lie to the conventional wisdom that Twenty20 is entirely a batsman’s game. I still think it might be more balanced with 6-wicket innings, but balance doesn’t seem to be exactly what they’re striving for.
On the other hand, there’s substantially more spectacle than I care for in my cricket. The atmosphere at the ground seems to include everything that’s wrong with attending American sporting events: being bombarded with loud music after every ball; being treated like you’re too retarded to figure out for yourself when the game is exciting; the general unwillingness to just let the game stand on its own.
Cricket does not require cheerleaders, no matter how scantily clad they may be.
On yet another hand, I love the barbed wired fences between the spectators and the field of play in India. That is how you stop ground invasions.
Well, maybe not entirely.
