How Cricket Lost Its Balance

The game’s abbreviated formats have skewed the contest, leaving its essence at risk.

Cricket was born in the English countryside as a leisurely pursuit, a genteel pastime that asked little of its participants beyond patience, skill and sportsmanship. The men who conceived it could scarcely have imagined the pressures of a 21st-century sporting world where audience attention spans are brief and commercial imperatives relentless.

From the dawn of active, organized cricket in the 18th century to the turn of the 20th century, the game’s classical test format, with two innings per side stretching over days, proved increasingly at odds with a fast-moving world. In a typical test scenario even in the 1950s and the close of the 1960s, draws were common and victories were hard-won. As a result, fan engagement, correspondingly, waned.

Economics dictated the first major intervention in cricket, namely, that the game needed shortening. The first seismic shift came in the early 1970s with the introduction of the One-Day International (ODI) in 1971.

That decade would see yet another transformative move that would irrevocably change cricket’s complexion, courtesy of the Australian media tycoon Kerry Packer. Frustrated that television networks were excluded from broadcasting rights for international cricket, Packer launched the World Series Cricket (WSC) in 1977 - a breakaway competition that introduced floodlit matches, coloured clothing, white balls and aggressive marketing.

This resulted in matches being shorter with results guaranteed. Players transformed into stars with commercial appeal. Packer’s gamble saw cricket no longer being viewed purely a sport; it became entertainment. Even as traditionalists protested, television audiences surged. Soon, the cricketing establishment came to adopt many of Packer’s innovations, setting the stage for T20s and leagues like the Indian Premier League (IPL).

The IPL, launched in 2008, has become the epitome of the commercial success of shorter formats, transforming cricket into a gargantuan, high-octane spectacle at the expense cost of its subtle technicalities and strategic depth that make the game so fascinating to the cricket purist.

While the game’s financial health improved – fans are now assured of a conclusive result in a single evening – this commercial pragmatism has scarred the game forever.

The tinkering with field restrictions, notably capping the bowlers’ quotas and skewing the playing field in favour of batsmen has altered cricket’s fundamental balance. In striving to ensure excitement, the game has diluted its very essence.

The irony here is that the changes designed to preserve cricket’s relevance ended up creating a distorted contest. Bowlers, once the architects of cricketing tension and drama, now find themselves circumscribed, and their craft undervalued in contrast to the adulation heaped upon batsmen.

Sunday’s T20 Asia Cup final between India and Pakistan offers a telling illustration. Abhishek Sharma, who was feted as ‘man of the tournament,’ struggled under pressure in the final - the match that mattered most in the entire tournament. Meanwhile, spinner Kuldeep Yadav, who consistently troubled opposition batsmen and excelled when stakes were highest, went unrewarded. Such oversights reveal an institutional apathy towards those whose contributions are harder to quantify but are no less critical.

If cricket is to honour its participants fairly, the mechanism for awards needs reform. Decisions should not rest on the transient impressions of television commentators but on panels equipped to assess performance systematically. A five-member committee - comprising two former bowlers, two former batsmen and a seasoned all-rounder - can bring perspective and balance when it comes to giving awards to players.

Bowlers should be evaluated on wickets taken in both group and knockout stages, with particular weight given to top-order dismissals. Batsmen should be assessed on cumulative runs and the context of their innings (especially key matches like the final or semi-final). Only then can accolades reflect true merit rather than popularity or spectacle.

Yet, even with these corrective measures, one cannot ignore the broader concern of cricket’s eroding traditional structure. The proliferation of T20s and other abbreviated formats has accelerated this transformation. Each iteration prioritizes instant gratification, crowd-pleasing fireworks and commercial returns over the nuanced contest between bat and ball.

Contrast cricket with tennis, an equally venerable sport. Tennis has adapted without undermining its core. Tie-breakers were introduced to prevent interminable sets, and the reduction to three-set matches in many tournaments balances viewer attention with competitive integrity. Yet grand slams retain their five-set tradition, preserving the sport’s historic challenge. Cricket, by contrast, has largely abandoned its pillars for expediency, leaving purists to lament a game that is both faster and less faithful to its heritage.

(The writer is a retired banker and cricket expert. Views personal.)