I don’t get golf, and never did. People say that’s because I never played the game. They say that to be out there in those beautiful settings, facing the challenge of this most unnatural of sports (hitting a ball into a hole with a stick), learning the subtle techniques involved, generates a passion for the activity that stays with people all their lives. I accept that as true, but I still don’t get golf. Curling, same thing; my West Demerara blood’s too thin for that. Rock climbing is another one. I’m terrified of heights. I figure if God wanted me to climb sheer rock walls, he would have given me webbed feet, suction cups on both hands, at least four arms, and definitely wings. But I love T20 cricket, and currently the Caribbean Premier League just concluded in St Kitts after a highly successful tournament.
The Test match devotees will be at me again, but the jury is in on this one, and the general feeling seems to be that the CPL was a lot of good, some definite bad, and even a bit of ugly. On the good side, this short version of the game has revitalized cricket at a time when, England and Australia aside, Test cricket is in deep trouble. T20 is action from the first ball (no half an hour “settling in” here), emphasizing scoring (which people love), produces some unbelievable acrobatics in stopping boundaries and catching (which people love) because of the importance of a single run, generates some of the most thrilling endings in the final overs such as 42 to win in 20 balls (which people love), and the whole deal is over in three hours and the family is headed home. That’s another key: T20 is drawing the whole family, from grandma
down to the young nephews, and the ladies, forever lukewarm to those 5-day Tests, are coming to the short game in droves, waving flags, mugging for the TV camera, and even joining in the cheerleader gyrations. It was all there in the just concluded CPL with the Caribbean-flavoured T20 which has gripped the region big time. The good also included some stunning finishes, including the thrilling final-ball sixes by Dwayne Bravo in one game, and Andre Russell in another, to produce what seemed impossible wins in both matches.
Topping the list of the bad, however, would have to be parts of the television coverage including, in particular, the broadcast commentary. We understand the fun flavour of the game fellows, but too much of the commentary went over into the banal, or even ridiculous, with several of the foreign crew seeming to think they were covering a burlesque show instead of a cricket match. The New Zealander Danny Morrison was especially irritating as he strained to create excitement in fairly ordinary happenings. He came across sounding like he drinks Red Bull for breakfast (half the time we didn’t get what he was ranting about), and, worse yet, he was close to uncouth in some of his behaviour around the ladies. Some levity is nice from the booth, but it can easily go overboard, and believe me on several occasions, CPL, your guys were soaking wet; I could hear the discomfort in Bishop’s usual smoothness, and even Darren Ganga, who often contributes important details about some of the younger Caribbean players, was thrown off his usual game. Next time around, leave Morrison in Auckland; that one omission will improve your telecast. Another improvement would be for the television switcher not to be so obsessed with the various waist gyrations, particularly that 5-minute segment of a seemingly demented man in St Kitts demonstrating some serious “brukkins” lessons for his young son. A slice of revelry is fine, but, as even one of the commentators had to interject, “Okay, let’s get back to the cricket.”
We also need to fix the mascots, or attempts at mascots (with our vibrant carnival costume tradition, I know we can do better than that) and the trophy, probably made with good intentions to reflect local craft, was a huge disappointment. It seemed unfinished and lacked style and grace. Actually, the thing looked clumsy and the players holding it up often seemed about to drop it. Have a national competition next year for a new trophy; let’s end up with something we want to photograph and make small replicas of for sale, not something you want to put in a corner and cover.
Finally, CPL, as much as I love you, the word “ugly” applies when it comes to that final match with the Duckworth-Lewis fiasco. The dead air at the end when rain closed things down and left the TV crew clearly not knowing what to cover was the minor part; the real fiasco was the obvious confusion among all parties as to what was happening regarding the resolution of the game, and the ultimate flat announcement of “Barbados has won” must have gone around the world like a soggy roti. Surely, in this day and age of instantaneous information (three seconds after a six is struck, the TV is telling us how far it went) any time rain looms, the television broadcast should be telling us, and both teams, if not ball-by-ball, at least every over, precisely what the Duckworth-Lewis story is. Indeed, in a game already full of edge-of-the-seat endings, the D-L saga can wind the tension up even further. And when the game, as in this case, is the final, with all the marbles on the line, it is obviously even more critical that we should all know – players, umpires, commentators, the old lady listening in Bequia – exactly what the state of the game is, and what the perils are.
Overall, CPL, your show was good entertainment including the interaction from the mixing of national players on other teams that led to the jousting by some Trini players aimed at the Trinis playing on other teams (you know how the Trinis love to joust), but you also have some things to fix.
