Stanford has gone too far

Of course, I am referring to the new game, Twenty/20 Cricket. Now Twenty/20 or 20/20, or whatever we call it, is not as traumatic a departure from One-Day Cricket as ODI was from Test Cricket.

But change always frightens the Establishment, and we must understand this. I, like other traditionalists, love what can only be described as the mystique of Test cricket.

I became a fan of West Indies cricket in 1950. The West Indies were in England, on their way to their first Test and series win over there.

I was an 11-year-old schoolboy, sent to Lodge School, Barbados, where I discovered cricket, and where Bajans told me who was Sonny Ramadhin.

For the next few years, I supported the Windies at Kensington Oval and at Queen’s Park Oval, because the Tests were held here over Easter holidays.

I watched the greats of the 1950s— Worrell, Weekes, Walcott, Ramadhin and Valentine. I saw us play against the MCC (which was what England called themselves when on tour), Australia and India.

I still have the autographs and the memories of all the great cricketers of the 50s. I watched us soar to the top of world cricket in the 60s and the 80s, and shared the pain of “Gavaskar, The Real Master”, and of the recent decline.

Yet, for all of that, I have never seen a full Test match from beginning to end. So there must be something wrong with a game if the average fan cannot take or spare the time to watch the whole thing.

Five days, after all, is almost a vacation, and after all that, the game can still end in a tame draw, with captains having the right to conspire to end the match in what would have been its final hour.

But Test cricket has that special mystique. You don’t just play it. There are factors requiring strategies which must be developed and implemented for success.

It’s not just a bat and a ball. The weather, the atmosphere, the light, the vagaries of the pitch-always changing, when to take the new ball, when to declare, all influence the strategies, not just today, but four days hence.

And Test cricket is a symphony of motion, style and the poetry of a gifted commentator. The flow of Michael Holding’s run-up, the graceful late-cut of Sir Frank Worrell, Brian Lara’s cover-drive, and Viv Richards’ disdainful flick off his toes for six!

All of these being Movements in the Symphony, to which a gifted commentator can put lyrics: A free-flowing front foot drive past a sprawling cover, to rattle the boundary board; the episode scrutinised by a perplexed Holding— “You know cricket? You can ‘see it’ on your radio!”

But this sublime mystique does not fit into today’s world, and the opportunity for something shorter, less mystifying, and therefore more exciting, was required.

I suppose the first 50 or 60 overs matches were “salvaged” from rained-out Test Matches, when the sun shone on the fifth day. The spectators were “given” something to replace the abandoned Test, and the spectators, and the players, loved it. One-day cricket was born, and has now been around a while. The first Cricket World Cup was played in 1975, a one-day tournament. However, before the Establishment could become comfortable with this hybrid game, they were wracked with a Hat-trick of Bouncers.

These were delivered by Australian businessman Kerry Packer, who stole all the stars from the Establishment by paying them properly, then put them in (Oh My God!) coloured uniforms, before turning on the lights to play at night when fans could attend.

The Establishment had to make peace with Kerry Packer to “get back” the cricket, but coloured uniforms, night cricket, and special tournaments stayed. As did, thankfully, Test Cricket. If Test Cricket is a symphony, one-day cricket is rock and roll. Typically, it surpassed Test cricket in excitement and attendances. But even the shorter game was sometimes cut short by rain, and a formula was needed to salvage what cricket one could out of these occasions.

Enter the Twenty Overs Game. This shorter, and therefore more “run-aggressive”, game found favour with the fans, and tournaments were soon being organised in other countries.

But the West Indies Establishment did not embrace it. More the pity-if Test cricket is symphony, and ODIs are Rock, then 20-20 is Hip-Hop, and made for the West Indies.

Now enter Allen Stanford. Who is this Texan who arrived in Antigua, and set up an airline to succeed where BWIA and LIAT have not? And how come he likes cricket? And who told him he could build a West Indies Cricket Hall of Fame?

Surely this is the prerogative of the Establishment? Well they were probably thinking about appointing a committee to consider if they should recommend that a study be done.

And how could he then buy property in Antigua, and develop a full cricket centre on it— a veritable Centre Of Excellence for Cricket. This sort of thing is considered a sin-at least in Trinidad.

Then Mr Stanford went a step too far. He organised and sponsored a Twenty/20 Tournament on his ground in Antigua. He invited non-traditional participants, like St Maarten and US Virgin Islands, and even Nevis (of St Kitts and Nevis).

It would have been nice to invite Tobago, and also Trinidad, instead of TT.

Everyone, including me is enjoying the tournament being shown on television. I know it’s not Test cricket, there are very few of the special things to consider, but it is fun.

And it will no more “kill Test cricket” than ODI did. It’s a great way for people to compete in cricket, and its over in one evening.

There is another complaint I have heard. The prize monies, to Teams and players, far exceed what Digicel and Cable and Wireless give for their sponsored tournaments.

If this is really something to complain about, then tell me to whom should we complain — Mr Stanford, or Digicel and Cable and Wireless?