Originally published in 2014

Suggest to an old-school cricket enthusiast the possibility of a contest that’s more a six-hitting fest than a sedate affair. Suggest putting cricketers on sale like in the cattle market. Suggest pom-pom cheerleaders with perky smiles dancing to a gallery of spirited spectators. Suggest millions spent on “dressing up” the ground with sponsor hoardings and patching up their logos on player jerseys/helmets/pads/guards (perhaps even on their derrière). Well, it would be as outlandish to him as proposing to a caveman the idea of typing on keyboards instead of drawing on stone walls.

In the summer of 2008, when the Indian Premier League (IPL) was crafted and conceived, it was simply off the wall for most Indian fans. The idea of a cricket league that hosted close to a hundred T20 matches over two months, was privately owned by huge business conglomerates and fi lm stars, and which blurred national loyalties, pitting teammates against each other in return for mammoth pay packets, was way too “foreign”. In a good way though – like in the emerging India of the 1990s, when internet and satellite television invaded homes, it was seen as a sign of upward mobility and a reiteration of our growth. The IPL did similar things to our cricket – it gave us the right to talk business with non-Indian players. Most cricketers from around the world also saw this as a lucrative opportunity to play some uncomplicated cricket and go home richer.

Let’s face it, the money in the IPL – for a lot of cricketers, not just a handful of them – is more than they can earn by playing in every single T20 league in the world. Even more, it provides unrivalled exposure for young cricketers who are looking to be spotted, making the situation a catch 22 of sorts. While the cricket fraternity chooses to take a bird’s-eye view – advising against the IPL obsession – the parties involved are willing to turn myopic for personal gain, turning this into a society-against individual debate.

***

Is there a sporting tournament in the whole wide world where the matches finish close to midnight every single night for seven straight weeks? The other major impact of the IPL on India is that it has changed the way a regular household functions for those seven weeks every year. The fact that watching the IPL always promises an Indian team or player winning makes it a runaway success. Throw in cheerleaders, starlets, stand-up comedians et al and the mix becomes even more mouth-watering. For two months the entire nation gets into the habit of tuning in at 8pm to get their daily fix of entertainment. The flipside of this arrangement is that when fathers watch TV until midnight every night, it’s rather ambitious to assume that they can keep their kids away from it all the time.  Since the IPL has lured a new section of audience comprising housewives, the frequency of food ordered from takeaways increases hugely for those two months. Right now – and this is what happens with change – nobody is able to see the fabric of the country altering for it is happening too slowly, but it is happening for sure. Shifting sleep patterns, work output getting affected and other developments get noticed only when they become a lifestyle.

Currently the IPL is facing a serious credibility crisis, with players accused of spot-fixing and a couple of owners accused of betting on their team’s matches. While the naysayers of the IPL are blaming the tournament for this mess (not always incorrectly), the fact remains that this stems from greed and, unfortunately, greed affects not just every section of society but every country. To blame the IPL for it would be rather naïve, for we have seen players crossing the line in international cricket too. The rich do it and the poor do it. But that doesn’t absolve us of our responsibilities and the tournament organisers must take responsibility for keeping the checks and balances in place. The credibility of the owners, the organisers’ involvement in team on-field operations, player education and strong punishments for anyone who’s found guilty, are a few key areas.

Fortunately for the IPL and quite unfortunately otherwise, the Indian public has shown immense tolerance towards corruption. Not only do they forget the misdeeds but they also forgive the miscreants all too easily. This attitude must not encourage the authorities to brush things under the carpet, for if that were to happen, a great opportunity to cleanse and restore faith would be lost.

As the league runs into its seventh year, a “blame it all on the league” sentiment is becoming stronger by the day. Especially after India’s humiliating 0-8 whitewashes against England and then Australia. The country-versus-club debate is gaining ground, and so is the Test-versus-T20 one. Much has been written and spoken on the issue yet we continue to live in the grey zone, still unsure of whether we like it or not.

The flipside is that the Australians have struggled as much as the South Africans in the recent past. Neither Pakistan nor Sri Lankan cricket is going great guns either. They don’t have a similar league to blame their mess on.

Perhaps it’s time we stop punching the IPL – and detect the defects, iron out the kinks, and allow it a happy space. For we just don’t seem to be able to make up our mind on whether the IPL is a bad package in good wrapping paper or a good package in bad wrapping paper.