It had to happen sooner or later. Steve Smith, playing in the first Twenty20 against India on Tuesday, lost his wicket whilst commentating for Australian television as he was batting.
Smith was answering questions via an on-field microphone as Australia attempted to chase down India’s total at the Adelaide Oval. Shortly after speaking to the Channel Nine commentators Smith was caught at mid-off by Virat Kohli, who sent him on his way with a ‘too chatty’ hand gesture.
At 89-1 in the ninth over and with Smith and Aaron Finch at the crease Australia had seemed well-placed at the time of the dismissal, but went on to lose the match by 37 runs. Australian fans were quick to take to Twitter, blaming the broadcaster for distracting the batsman and ultimately costing Australia the match. But, honestly, isn’t this all part of the show?
Twenty20 is the brash little brother of Test cricket and television coverage is accordingly loud and gimmick-laden. From Stump-Cam, Spider-Cam and Helmet-Cam, through Stump-Mic and Player-Mic to in-game interviews with coaches and dismissed players as they leave the field, T20 is about entertainment first and sport second. The coverage is inexorably bound to the game. It is about getting the viewer as close to the action as possible, the thrills and spills, the instant analysis.
We’re in the world of the new, a world of new camera angles, new insights, the Bunnings Warehouse Replay and the Yes Bank Maximum, the world of Danny Morrison’s hyperbole and the matey banter of Gilly, Punter, Junior and the rest. The result? Who cares about the result?
Don’t get me wrong, T20 is genius. It is the perfect format for our society — short, punchy, spectacular, disposable. For an evening with a beer in front of the television, or a Friday night after work down at the Oval, it is pure entertainment. But in the future does anyone seriously believe that there will be as much discussion about great T20 matches of the past as there is with Tests?
Try a little experiment. Pick any recent Test series – a big one, say, England against Australia. What was the result? Got it? And the T20s that followed? No, me neither.
That’s Twenty20. It is the one night stand, the Xbox Guitar Hero, the Classic FM of sport. All your favourite bits without having to deal with those boring parts in between. But those are what put the high points into context, whether it’s a Beethoven symphony or the first day of a Test match. They give balance. Without them we are left with ebb without flow, ying without yang, a meaningless showreel of highlights played at volume eleven. It is why Ben Stokes’ innings at Cape Town captured the imagination so spectacularly – it wasn’t just what he did, it was the context in which he did it.
Twenty20 has been blamed for a great deal but has brought many good things to cricket — new shots, new revenue and not least a new audience. Anything that gets youngsters talking about cricket has to be a terrific thing. The trick, of course, is in getting that new audience to see the bigger picture, to appreciate all forms of the game in all their glory.
Contrary to what cricket administrators would like us to believe it is the broadcasters that wield the power. They will always call the shots in T20 because as much as anyone else they are the creators of this world. They have built the audiences. They generate the revenue. And whether Steve Smith or Virat Kohli like it or not, Player-Mic and all its brothers are undoubtedly here to stay.
