And in a democratisation that T20 promises to set off at various levels of cricket, expert and viewer are bound together in asking the most bizarre of questions: will batsmen suddenly accomplished in gaining strike rates well in excess of 100 per cent be able to temper their game for longer innings? Will we, the viewers, lose capacity to meditate over the finer moments in the slowly unfolding grand narrative of a Test — or, now with idea of time changed by acquaintance with T20, even one-day — match? Will skiers be the measure of batting excellence? Will bowlers be condemned to two-digit economy rates? Is cricket, gasp, dead?

There you have it. When cricket’s new new thing baffles us by its very success, you know all’s well. Change has traditionally served cricket favourably. The hastened pace of limited-overs cricket had by the mid-nineties forced not just a demand by viewers for more results in Tests. It made players skilled in scoring faster — Australia routinely score at 4 runs an over in Tests, far higher than the run rate in the 1983 World Cup final at Lord’s.

But faster scoring has not shortened matches. It has instead made teams aspire to larger innings totals; a team innings of 400 is no longer seen as an accomplishment and batsmen have acquired the stamina for bigger centuries. One-days have also made cricketers impatient with defensive play. The consequence is visible everywhere. Audiences are back at Tests, many of them new recruits via one-days.

... contd.