Fans of the game, especially those who have already bought into the highs and lows of the IPL, will argue with that assessment. After all, runs are being scored, wickets are being picked, sixes are being hit, and brilliant catches are being taken. But the hunger to accord a one-year-old event with sudden global legitimacy from all concerned is rapidly exposing its weak foundations.

This column is not meant to be an idealistic midnight memo from Jerry McGuire to his colleagues. Nor is it meant to be a holier-than-thou sermon to his peers in sports journalism from someone who has shunned the lure of a tournament from which we all could have something to gain, and nothing tangible to lose.

But this is a time when we, in the media, need to pose some serious questions — both to the game’s administrators and, as an extension, to ourselves for leaving no stone unturned in hyping the IPL as a coming of age of world cricket when, in fact, it is no more than a coming together of existing business tycoons with those who fancy themselves as the tycoons of tomorrow.

Lalit Modi was seen signing autographs in South Africa this week. By promising BCCI money to charitable causes, he’s demanded respect and allegiance from a distant nation after his much-touted statesmanship failed to get the nod in his own country.

Brand Modi had recently lost government patronage, and a bitter cricket election in his home state of Rajasthan. One year without the IPL could have meant curtains for his clout within the board. By all accounts, it was critical for him to hold the event, and on a friendly turf. So did Indian cricket’s “flagship event” have to shift bases because of Modi’s personal stakes?

And when a TV presenter recently bowed before him during an interview, was the gesture at least followed up by the obvious question: Mr Modi, why so desperate?

The IPL commentary team is a who’s who of cricket’s brightest brains. Two of them are Sunil Gavaskar and Ravi Shastri, Indian cricket’s biggest opinion-makers over the last two decades; men whose word is gospel for fans across the country. They’re also members of the IPL’s all-powerful governing council. And thanks to their wholesale approval of the tournament’s corporate speak, every six is already a DLF Maximum, and every wicket a Citi Moment of Success.

The day is not far when companies will sponsor fielding positions — perhaps alliterative names such as Pepsi point and Coca Cola cover — and as the show goes on, the so-called experts will all be announcers outside a Vaudeville stall. “Come one, come all!”

In an era of easy access and all-important TRPs, TV news channels have not been too far behind. For several hours every day, they run retrospective packages, panel discussions, poolside interviews; all celebrating the IPL, none questioning any facet of it.

Print coverage follows the same pattern. There are as many reporters in South Africa as there are for a World Cup. And the players themselves are busy doing for the IPL in their daily columns what the commentators are doing for it on TV.

As a result, the organisers — who have a host of monetary problems to tackle in the middle of a global slowdown — have at least been saved the trouble of worrying about media management.

The only time anybody was on the back foot in this tournament was when the Fake IPL Player rattled the Kolkata administration with a witty, fictional account of the inner rumblings of a confused IPL team. In a country that likes to boast about a strong, vibrant, free press, that’s not something for us to take pride in.

kunal.pradhan@expressindia.com