Where would cricket stand 50 years from now?

Batsmen like Glenn Maxwell are changing the face of cricket

At the start of 2014, Glenn Maxwell was not a household name. He certainly wasn’t a popular name, though it sprung up here and there once in a while, but represented himself as a good enough cricketer who could keep his place in the Australian squad. So it did come as a surprise when Kings XI Punjab dished out over a million dollars for his services for the ongoing season of the IPL.

The auctions have always thrown us a surprise to vehemently shake our heads and discuss about for weeks leading up to the first game, but Maxwell’s signing was greeted with this derisive sarcasm which I personally very much enjoyed. Granted, the jokes were pretty twisted in its own way – we were all essentially laughing at a man we assumed was doomed to fall after an overlarge price tag (David Moyes, anyone?) – but it was a welcome change from the regular bashing of Indian fast bowling.

But ever since that literal price tag was tied to his wicket, Maxwell has lifted his game to celestial levels. Be it for Australia or Victoria, Maxwell propelled his skill into an alternate reality where audiences stared in disbelief rather than applauded. But there’s little else you can do when you watch the audacity with which Maxwell treats his opponents. His fly-swatter attitude to the game of cricket leaves you a little shaken, especially when he can double the value of your team’s run-rate within a few overs. Not much you can do apart from stare with your mouth hanging.

Over the years, let’s call them the ‘IPL years’, we’ve had cricketers come and go who have essentially changed the paradigms of how we appreciate cricket. Brendon McCullum showed us that we could tear our hair apart after watching utter decimation on the field; AB DeVilliers taught us that actually looking out for the next new cricket shot while he’s at the crease is a legitimate manner of praise; Chris Gayle showed us that being nonchalant when a six was hit was now OK; and now Maxwell is silencing his biggest supporters with the power of disbelief. Silence has never been this potent a way of celebration.

Back in the days when getting a score of 300+ was still brushed aside like a Loch Ness-like myth, the term ‘destruction’ was very rarely used. And if used, it was usually to explain the ability of a fast bowler to rip through an opposition in less time than imaginable. But the batsmen were still purists who played beautiful cricket, rather than yank their opponents out from a corner and roar at them till they understood who really the boss is. And the first real boss was Vivian Richards.

Cricketers who are remembered over time are those that stand-out from their peers. Jack Hobbs had his 300 centuries, WG Grace had his graceless dominance, Don Bradman had lot more than an average, Wasim Akram had an unmatched skill with swing, Fred Trueman’s pace is yet to be matched, but it was Viv Richards who was the first to make a mark because of his destruction.

When Viv Richards batted, boots trembled. Here was a man who had a swagger of an individual far too confident with his abilities, but what was scary was that he really did have those abilities and regularly put them on display for the world to see. And that too with his half his energy going into just chewing what looked like an enormous piece of gum.

Cricket now has that destruction embedded in its DNA. Hitting a six doesn’t have the same ring to it as it used to. Now it’s the distance of the six that counts. That’s why Gayle, an infamously inconsistent batsman, is so widely adored. On his day, the planet would be too small a stadium to limit his sheer strength.

But so is a batsman like MS Dhoni, who we’ve seen cart the ultimate best of bowlers (read: Dale Steyn) to unheard of corners of the field with maniacal prowess and remarkable consistency. As are Brendon McCullum and Glenn Maxwell. The big six-hitters with strike-rates rarely less than 150 has now become the norm. So where do these guys stand in our current history? Fifty years down the line, how will we talk about these guys?

Fondly. At least that’s the first thing that comes to my mind. Nobody will scowl when they look up and think about the 175* Gayle hit against Pune (unless you’re from Pune). These are good memories we’re forming for our old selves to enjoy before coming to an unremarkable death and an even poorer last word. That’s possibly where we’re headed.

Cricket isn’t about ‘skill’ and ‘class’ anymore. Or at least, it isn’t about the traditional kinds. Purists will always have a problem with the current scenario and will always prefer a time in which they did not even exist. But, in a strictly traditional sense, cricket isn’t about skill and class. You have glimpses of it when you watch players like Virat Kohli and Yuvraj Singh in their prime, or Michael Clarke and Alistair Cook on song, but most cricket is now stripped of that traditional style of play. We’ve adapted to the 21^st century style, where 300+ scores have become common occurrence rather than anomalous blips. And that’s why we’ve begun investing in memory.

Of course, the past also brings back great memories. Who doesn’t remember Tendulkar hammering the Australians in that epic Coca Cola Cup match? There are those who will swear remembering each and every ball of that match, and more often than not, they’re absolutely right. But Tendulkar still made sure his left foot went ahead of his right, placing them carefully where his coach told him to years ago, and then walloped Warne for a six. There’s a certain class attached to an inning like that, and as much as you appreciate that moment, you’re also appreciating a man possessed with the skill of a divine being.

But there is no appreciation of skill anymore. There are only memories. Memories that we receive, like a USB drive, and store to relive at any given time. And during those moments of reliving, it’s not the front-foot or the back-foot you’re appreciating, but what you felt when Maxwell calmly swatted another ball into the fence.

There are so many remarkable things happening on the cricket field currently, there really is a lack of space in that memory box of yours. But you’ll just keep cramming it with more and more until one day it finally explodes, and an avalanche of nostalgia hits you, leaving you with a stupid smile on your face right before you say goodbye and kick the bucket.

Still doesn’t help with the poor last words though.