Cricket, in the era I grew up watching—the 80s and 90s—was a game of strategy, endurance, and elegance. It was where the slow grind of Test matches revealed the character of players, and the 50-over format served as a thrilling middle ground between patience and aggression. But today, the rise of T20 leagues has drastically reshaped the landscape of cricket. While these leagues may have enriched cricketers financially, they have eroded the essence of the sport. In this pursuit of entertainment, cricket has traded quality for quantity, and the art of the game seems to be losing its soul.
Many modern fans may dismiss this as nostalgia, arguing that T20 leagues are the future. But the essence of a cricketer can never be fully captured in a mere 20 overs. Cricket has always been a test of temperament, skill, and resilience—qualities that can only be nurtured in the longer formats. Test cricket remains the truest expression of a cricketer’s mettle, while One-Day Internationals (ODIs) offer a valuable balance between tradition and modernity. The brevity of T20 cricket, however, forces players to chase instant gratification, robbing them of the chance to evolve into complete athletes.
What is more troubling is the way the narrative around cricket has shifted. Modern commentators and journalists often lavish praise on players excelling in franchise leagues, turning them into overnight sensations. This media frenzy not only overlooks players with genuine quality but also reduces cricket to a spectacle where fame matters more than craft. The very voices once entrusted with safeguarding the sport’s sanctity seem to have sold themselves, promoting a brand of cricket that prioritizes revenue over reputation.
T20 leagues have also created a troubling hierarchy in players’ priorities. Many cricketers today appear more invested in representing a franchise than wearing their national colours. This shift has fractured the sense of national pride that once defined cricket and fostered a sense of community among fans. The consequence is that the younger generation of cricketers is growing up with skewed values, where loyalty to a paycheck often outweighs loyalty to one’s country.
The shadow of match-fixing and betting syndicates further darkens this picture. Nowhere is this more evident than in the subcontinent, where the intersection of cricket, corruption, and gambling syndicates poses a grave threat. Young players, often lured by the glamour and money of T20 leagues, are easy prey for unscrupulous agents. The moral compass that cricket once championed is at risk of being irreparably damaged.
The think tanks of cricket may have set out to innovate, but in doing so, they have unleashed a demon. The commercialization of the game has come at a cost—one that cricket may not be able to afford in the long run. If the essence of the sport is to survive, there must be a recalibration of priorities. We need to recognize that cricket is not just about entertainment but about history, character, and the values that have inspired generations.
As a fan who cherishes the game in its purest form, I feel compelled to raise my voice. Cricket, after all, belongs to everyone. The custodians of the sport must be reminded that progress should not come at the expense of heritage. It is time to reclaim the spirit of cricket, so that future generations may witness the same elegance, grit, and beauty that captivated us decades ago.
The call is simple: let’s return to quality. The game deserves no less.
Thank You
Faisal Caesar
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