From S Giridhar and VJ Raghunath, India

	Bats have improved tremendously over the years © AFP

Cricket has seen many significant changes over the last 110 years. Some have been marvellous innovations that have heightened the thrill of bat versus ball while others have seriously disturbed the golden balance.

The most significant of the pre-World War I changes was that pitches instead of being “natural” began to be “prepared”. Thus a game that was wickedly and capriciously slanted in favour of bowlers (the bowling averages and figures of Trott, Spofforth and Blythe at the turn of the 20th century bear testimony to this) began to bestow better chances for batsmen. Yet, even on these prepared wickets, great bowlers reaped almost the same rewards; none exemplifying this better than Wilfred Rhodes, the torch bearer for the tribe of spinners.

Many years later, the “covering” of pitches was another great change – less play was lost because of this simple measure and it also ensured that the weather did not provide undue advantage to a bowling side to demolish the batting side on a drying pitch. Covered pitches did swing the game well in favour of batsmen.

Science and technology have obviously been the biggest influence. Except the ball, everything else has undergone such change that Trumper and Ranji will not recognise today’s batsman.

The bat is becoming stronger by the day. Gone are the days of thin handles, linseed oil seasoning; instead we have thick multi-rubbered handles and compressed wood, with such lethal weight distribution that almost the entire bat is a “sweet spot”. It means that a mistimed hit that Trumper or Ranji would have holed out to, now regularly clear the ropes.
Pads, inner guards and gloves have all become lighter and batsmen and keepers are much more mobile. If this was not enough, grounds have been becoming smaller. At numerous small venues a 65-yard hit is a six these days where earlier a six would have to clear 75 yards. We have talked extensively of the LBW laws in an earlier article (Inbox May 2009) and till the 1980s the benefit of doubt to batsmen was another factor in favour of the batsmen. Cricket, not so subtly, post World War II, became even more of a batsman’s game.

As the game tilted towards batsmen, the oppressed bowlers found ways and means to restore balance and wrest some rights for themselves. There have been three significant changes that bowlers have succeeded in creating for themselves. The first is of course reverse swing. On benign pitches, because of “ball management” a bowler of speed today confounds well set batsmen. A sense of unpredictability, suspense and balance has been introduced. What Sarfraz Nawaz started, Steyn and Zaheer have converted into fine art. But reverse swing must remind people of bottle caps, strong teeth, finger nails and pockets full of sand.

The other great change is the doosra. What Bosanquet’s googly was to legspin, Saqlain Mushtaq’s doosra is to offspin. Saqlain delivered the ball perfectly legitimately, perhaps because he had a long last stride like a wrist spinner. But after him there have been a slew of off spinners who have been under scrutiny, whether it is a Harbhajan Singh or a Johan Botha. Hauritz and Swann are perhaps two purveyors of offspin who have not yet resorted to the doosra.

And that brings us to the third major change. The laws of the game now allow bowlers with a bent arm. So from an era when the bowler had to really adhere to a “bowling action” today’s bowler is allowed a 15 degree flex of elbow. All the three changes in bowling have actually been thrust on the game because of the manner in which the game is loaded in favour of the batsman. And because the laws of the game do not firmly address these imbalances, the bowlers will find newer ways; the lines between right and wrong will get blurred in an uncontrollable spiral.

Even as the game is grappling with batsmen already having it mostly their way, a couple of things have further loaded the game in favour of batsmen. One is the annoying tendency of batsmen suffering from cramps in the one-day games and having the luxury of a runner. The one-day game is as much about fitness and agility as about talent, technique and temperament. If after a stay of about 35 overs a batsman suffers from cramps, it is a sign of lack of fitness to last the course. To afford him a runner, when he is fully set is a travesty of justice and fairvplay. For this reason we would rate Kapil’s 175 and Viv Richards’ World cup final knock of ’79 higher than Saeed Anwar’s knock against India. Tendulkar, nearly 37 years old, scored 200 on his own legs putting our argument in the best possible perspective.

There is a case for the rules to ban “runners” in one day cricket for cramps and pulled muscles suffered during the course of an innings. We believe that if fatigue, cramps or a muscle pull hampers a batsman’s mobility, that’s part of the game and his fitness level; he cannot ask for assistance and must decide to either bat on with discomfort or retire. Contrast this facility given to batsmen with the rule which prevents bowlers from bowling immediately if they leave the field for an extended period of time to attend to injuries. If batsmen with cramps are allowed runners then bowlers must be allowed to bowl as soon as they return to the field after repairs or rest.

The second unfair advantage that batsmen are employing is the switch-hit. The reverse sweep can be viewed as dexterity because it is played the other way without changing the grip and in that sense clearly legitimate. But when you change your grip, become a left-hander and sweep or slog the bowler through point or covers you are actually cheating the bowler and the field set for you. Allowing a switch hit is akin to bowlers being permitted to change without notice from over the wicket to around the wicket. Perhaps one way of restoring balance with regard to the switch hit, is to declare the batsmen LBW if he is struck on the pads while playing the switch hit to a ball pitched outside the leg-stump and turning in. If the switch hit has come to stay make sure it is balanced by something for the bowler. Do not goad and frustrate the bowlers further.

Cricket in its relentless march will see wonderful innovations as well as unwelcome irreversible changes. The sport is commercialized and the audiences seem to be conditioned more easily to respond in larger numbers to a batting blitzkrieg. And yet the same audiences respond magnificently to tight well-fought matches even if they are not raining fours and sixes. We have enough evidence of this even in Twenty20 let alone Test matches. The challenge for people in charge of the game is to credit the audiences with discernment and ensure that the contest between bat and ball at all times remain even. For balance is what provides harmony to cricket as it does to all things in life.

From James Adams-Pace, United Kingdom

He may not have the speed of Brett Lee or the glamour of Kevin Pietersen, but Matthew Hoggard was a truly English champion and never let anyone down © Getty Images

His run-up begins with a movement that is a cross between a trot and a shuffle, an action fitting for his appearance. Then he energetically runs in, mane straggling in the wind, pounding the ground with heavy footsteps. This bustling finally culminates in his last act: the release. With a cocked wrist, bent right limb, and leading arm slanted across his body, he whips the ball round, planting it on a good length.

Typically, the left-handed batsman, thinking the ball will innocuously wander down the off-side, is lulled into a false sense of security, only to be surprised by the prodigious swing once the ball has pitched. With his feet misplaced and bat hanging out from their body, the batsman observes in disbelief as the ball strikes his pads or collides with his off stump.

With his two index fingers raised, he celebrates in a similar style to how he ran in, his hair suitably being ruffled by his team-mates this time. This, for the first few years of my cricketing life, was the best sight in English cricket. This is the magic of Matthew Hoggard. While the likes of Andrew Flintoff and Steve Harmison stole the headlines, Hoggard was always the bowler upon whom England could rely, evident in his superior bowling average to his peers and number of wickets taken (with 248, he stands a mighty sixth in the list of England’s all-time leading wicket-takers).

However, there was so much more to Hoggie than numbers; his bowling had an indomitable air about it: no matter what the conditions were or who the opponent was, he would keep running in, endeavouring to take a wicket, never meekly surrendering to a challenge. Critics say that he was ineffective when conditions did not favour swing, but that never stopped him trying, and as his seven-wicket haul in Australia suggests, he eventually combated those limitations.

He was also stoic night-watchman, and scorer of the most important four in England’s Test history (who can forget that boundary he scored off of Brett Lee’s bowling at Trent Bridge?) He played with dignity, character and a smile for England, and the ECB’s treatment of him was outrageous. After years of unswerving service, opening the bowling with acclaim, he was dropped to make way for younger players. In any other line of work, Hoggard probably could have sued, but, instead, he returned to his county and showed England just what they were missing.

If there was one thing that Hoggard showed me, it was that you do not have to be the fastest, tallest, or meanest to be a fantastic fast bowler. Instead, consistency, effort, and perspiration win over eventually, too. He may not have the speed of Lee or the glamour of Kevin Pietersen, but Hoggard was a truly English champion and never let anyone down. He may not have been the best in the world, but he was good enough to be my hero.

From Kartik, United Kingdom

It is hard to see any Punekar supporting Pune as their first team, when our favourite son plays for another © Indian Premier League

Jamie Alter's review of the Mumbai-Delhi encounter had an interesting yet obvious observation about Indian cricket fans - no matter who is playing, they will always cheer Sachin Tendulkar. And after the unveiling of the two new IPL teams, Kochi and Pune, that observation seems all the more poignant. I do not know the politics or the cricket well enough to comment on the Kochi franchise, but I will say the purchase had me surprised.

I had expected Ahmedabad to be the most sought after franchise, with the Gujarati population, both in and outside India, being the target of any shrewd businessman. To say that the Gujaratis are among the most well-represented Indians abroad is an understatement, and I was definitely shocked not to see Ahmedabad snapped up. The Pune choice though, was even harder to comprehend. Being a Maharashtrian with links to Mumbai and Pune, I will have two teams to support next year, and it does fill me with a small sense of pride that my home state is so popular.

Yet it confuses me, the logic behind the decision, for the point I mentioned in the first paragraph. We Marathis are a proud people, and even though many Punekars tend to dismiss the Mumbai parochialism (true Marathis come from Pune, not Mumbai, you see), it is hard to see any Punekar supporting Pune as their first team, when our favourite son plays for another.

And what of the others? The fans from Dhule, Nashik, Thane, and Nagpur? In fact, what of any cricket fan who does not have a strong bond with the city of Pune? Where does the Sahara Group plan on getting its support from? I don't know the intricate details of how a team makes money. Obviously ticket sales, television rights, and winning matches come into play. Surely, though, a large chunk of the profits comes from creating a fan following? From selling T-shirts, caps, and other merchandise, and creating a domestic (or "global") base that you feed from, and that you can trust to support you thick and thin.

Does the Sahara group expect the people of Pune to throw away their Mumbai Indians T-shirts (which they undoubtedly have already bought), and start supporting the new Pune team? I for one will not, and though the Pune team may slowly grow on me, I don't think I will ever understand the logic behind this decision. Not until Pune win the next IPL, that is.