by TONY COZIER

FOR THOSE who worry that cricket as we know it, is under threat from the game's newest manifestation, the matches that have immediately followed on the inaugural Twenty20 World Cup have brought no joy.

In comparison to the action-packed, nail-biting, six-hitting, disco-oriented extravaganza in South Africa over the last fortnight of September, the resumption of matches of the longer, more traditional variety has been staid, predictable and lacklustre.

That they should have involved India and Pakistan, combatants in the pulsating Twenty20 final in Johannesburg, who both now find themselves on the losing side on home soil, make the distinction ever starker.

On the first day of the first Test against Pakistan last week, in the near deserted National Stadium in Karachi, South Africa helped themselves to 294 for three from the allocated 90 overs.

Pedestrian

A rate of 3.26 runs an over was pretty good going for Test cricket, but absolutely pedestrian to what went on in South Africa over the preceding two weeks.

The five days yielded five sixes. Yuvraj Singh belted more in a single over in the Twenty20.

Presented with a similar scenario following World Series Cricket's breakthrough in Australia with night cricket, the white ball, coloured uniforms and the same razzamatazz that marked the World Twenty20, Lynton Taylor, Kerry Packer's right-hand man, proclaimed such cricket the game of the future and predicted the demise of Test cricket within ten years.

That was 30 years ago. Much the same is now being said about Twenty20 but it is not Test cricket that is in jeopardy so much as the format popularised by Packer and extolled by Lynton Taylor.

Tests have, to use the appropriate cliché, stood the test of time, 130 years to be precise, and are regarded by today's players, as much as their predecessors, as the ultimate form of the game.

The Karachi match developed into the kind of hard-fought contest that has made Test cricket what it is, an examination of skill, concentration, endurance.

The game could not survive without it.

Its abbreviated derivatives, each with its own characteristics, have brought a new dimension to a traditional sport.

The concurrent ODIs between India and Australia and Sri Lanka and England have emphasised the difference 60 overs can make to a One-Day match.

In the World Twenty20, Australia were beaten three times in their five matches, certain confirmation that the more condensed the game, the greater its inconsistency.

In India, the Australians have quickly reasserted their dominance in the longer version with comfortable victories in the two contests so far completed.

The effect of one-sided results in both series has heightened doubts over the relevance of ODIs now that Twenty20 has arrived.

The crowds still pack into stadiums in Indian cities but they were streaming out in droves in Cochi and Hyderabad long before the end with their team's cause hopeless as early as the 27th over of their innings.

So it was in Sri Lanka – and in all but a handful of matches in the World Cup in the Caribbean earlier this year.

Extreme example

There are still occasional boundary-filled matches with last-over finishes and there are certainly more totals over 300 than ever. South Africa's 438 for nine to trump Australia's 434 for four in Johannesburg a year-and-a-half ago is the extreme example.

But these are counter-balanced by barren periods, especially in the middle overs, when the game ticks over in singles and twos against defensive bowling with five fielders on the boundary.

There are no such barren periods in Twenty20 and no one abandons their seat, no matter what the runs-per-ball equation.

ODIs were first introduced in the 1970s as a high-speed adjunct to Test cricket. Their individuality evolved through limitations on the overs for one bowler to fielding restrictions, play under floodlights, use of a white ball and coloured uniforms.

There is no question they have been a tonic to the game. With every run at a premium, they lifted fielding standards, initiated inventive strokeplay and promoted more bowling variety that carried over to all levels.

Victim of popularity

But they are beginning to fall victim to their own popularity.

Administrators, seduced by full stadiums and huge profits everywhere, have staged 2 625 ODIs since the first in 1972, an average of 75 a year at points as diverse as London, Melbourne, Cape Town, Bridgetown, Nairobi, Toronto, Sharjah, Kuala Lumpur.

The World Cup has been extended to 16 teams and drags on for six weeks. It is an obvious case of overkill.

Now Twenty20 – initiated, as the game itself, in England – offers even more potential for quick returns.

For matches that are completed in three hours, overheads are lower, takings the same. Given the instant success of the domestic tournament in England and now the first Twenty 20 World Cup, sponsors and television networks are falling over themselves to jump on the bandwagon.

It was a blend not lost on Sir Allen Stanford, an enterprising American with a penchant for turning good ideas into gold, who has put his money, and plenty of it, behind the first such venture in the Caribbean.

The International Cricket Council (ICC) and the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI), both initially wary about getting involved in such a radical concept, quickly changed their attitude when they saw the flashing dollar, pound and rupee signs.

The ICC World Twenty20 is now scheduled every two years. The BCCI, along with the boards of Australia, England and South Africa, have announced a novel global club tournament with the enticement of the kind of prize money Stanford first put up.

The danger, as the ICC apparently recognises by restricting the number of official Twenty20s a year, is the kind of overexposure that has taken its toll on the ODIs. After all, how many sixes, dancing girls, firework displays and ear-splitting music can spectators take before the whole thing gets repetitive and boring?

For the time being, the public can't wait for more, as long as more doesn't become too much. l Tony Cozier is a leading cricket commentator.