Sex and Cricket
Twenty20 is to cricket what pornography is to sex. It's a mere extraction of the whole and utterly fails to do justice to the real thing. Like porn, Twenty20 satisfies the most immediate carnal urges of its participants and spectators in a way that is rewarding in the thrawl of the moment, but it retrospect leaves a feeling of deep unsatifaction. At best, Twenty20 can mimic cricket, in the same way that porn mimics sex, but in the end it just leaves you longing for something meaningful.
Whilst Twenty20 contains the most exciting parts of the test and one-day game - there are plenty of spectacular wickets taken and sixes scored - it is devoid of the rythym and reward for perseverence that makes the sport so special. Instead, it falls victim to the need for instant gratification.
It's a shame, really, since the commercial appeal of this form of the game is likely to trump the merits of longer forms. Twenty20 is artless, soulless, and at the end of three hours the whole things feels rather silly and juvenile. Sounds perfect for TV.
Whilst Twenty20 contains the most exciting parts of the test and one-day game - there are plenty of spectacular wickets taken and sixes scored - it is devoid of the rythym and reward for perseverence that makes the sport so special. Instead, it falls victim to the need for instant gratification.
It's a shame, really, since the commercial appeal of this form of the game is likely to trump the merits of longer forms. Twenty20 is artless, soulless, and at the end of three hours the whole things feels rather silly and juvenile. Sounds perfect for TV.
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