The IPL is obscene, and here's why

While entertainment is an inherent part of sports, there is more to sports than entertainment. Unfortunately, it often so happens that the organizers forget this simple fact and turn events of sports into shows where the superfluous clutter of entertainment becomes more important than the game itself. This, precisely is the case with the Indian Premier League, or T-20 Cricket, for that matter, in my humble opinion.

Let's face it, the game of cricket is too complex and too beautiful to be fully appreciated in a minimized version. A batsman doesn't get time to familiarize himself with the wicket, a bowler doesn't get time to settle down with his line and length, the fielding captain doesn't get time to set a field or choose a bowler. You don't see batsmen anchoring and building an innings, you don't see bowlers bowling spells, you don't see the enchanting beauty of stroke play, you don't see epic duels between individual bowlers and batsmen. There's no time for all that in T-20. You only see a frenzied rush to score as many runs as one can.

The shortened format isn't the only problem with the IPL. In an international match, the teams represent nations; the passion associated with the cricket-match watching experience largely emanates from a patriotic sentiment. The teams at the league don't represent anything. Sachin Tendulkar scoring a hundred for India against Australia is a million times more delightful than Sachin Tendulkar scoring a fifty for Mumbai Indians against Chennai Super Kings.

The loud music synchronized to fours and sixes, the frenzy of advertisements, the ridiculous nomenclature of teams, the ever-smiling blondes in skimpy outfits dancing in a meaningless way; all these may go well with baseball or the NBA but are not appropriate in a cricket match. These remove the seriousness of the game and reduce it to a degree of frivolity. The passion so often an inseparable part of watching a live cricket match is lost amidst this extravagant superfluousness.

The IPL is not cricket. It's a derivative that's produced when one strains out substance and grace from cricket. At best it's a caricature of cricket, and an obscene one at that. And like most obscene things, its only driving force is money.

The Paradox of Choice

I remember the first time I ordered a sandwich at an eatery in North America. I had walked on to the counter to ask for a grilled chicken sandwich, not expecting anything more to say and was subsequently stumped by an array of questions. I was asked to specify the type of bread, the type of cheese, whether toasted or not, and to choose the kind of toppings I would like.

Unprepared, and also only partially enlightened about the options before me (this applied especially for the types of bread and cheese), I took a significant amount of time to make a decision. Since then, of course, I have grown wiser and am much quicker in making such choices. Note, however, that my knowledge on the variety of bread and cheese remains sufficiently inadequate, only now I know that I don't really care if the latter is Mozzarella or Cheddar. I have realized that optimizing a sandwich can be rather taxing for one's brain when on an empty stomach, and therefore mostly make prompt random choices (barring a few exceptions).

There are many more examples where the availability of a myriad of options actually complicates the customer's decision making process and lengthens it. Imagine someone (perhaps a country bumpkin) going to an ice cream parlour with the simple objective of buying "an ice-cream", not familiar yet individually with the variety of desserts that are members of that vast family. At the shop he is bedazzled by the most gorgeous display of delicacies (each looking equally delicious and each well within his budget). When he entered the store he had in his mind this well-defined notion of an object called an ice-cream that he wanted. On entering, he finds out that the description of the object he had in his mind wasn't after all sufficiently specific; asking merely for an ice-cream is not informative enough, one has to say what flavour he wants, and there are several dozens of them. While earlier he wouldn't have cared about the flavour because of his ignorance, now the onus is on him to choose what is best for him. Even after making the choice he would be unsure about its aptness (and hence, not fully satisfied) because of his lack of knowledge on the many options he had to reject.

What does one do then? The more analytic among us actually go on to solve the optimization problem and come up with a definite answer. The rest, me included, would simply make an arbitrary or semi-arbitrary choice which would be very likely not optimal.

Funnily enough, in spite of the fact that the availability of a higher number of options complicates the whole process instead of simplifying it and most often does not guarantee a perfect match, we (including this blogger) tend to prefer places that offer more options. We would rather be baffled by a complex set of choices and end up making an unintelligent selection in the end, than to go somewhere that has fewer options and where the selection process would be easier, and perhaps more satisfying.

Is this another paradox of human nature?