At the moment, we don’t know. Nobody does. Lalit Modi has his vision, the traditionalists and lovers of Test cricket, and may they never die, have their own. And all of us, sitting on the sidelines have our own. Unlike economists who have data and predictive models, we have none. We have our hunches, and we need to be careful not to mistake them for the truth, but it would be a safe hunch to say that we are in for an eventful time. And so, I am going to put on my looking glass as well and, of the many variables furiously flying in our midst, am going to pick up three that I believe will be crucial to the success, or otherwise, of the IPL.

The first concerns you and me; the public that loves the game, that watches and pays to go to stadiums. Why do we love our game? Do we love it because we love the great cricketers and their skills? If so, we should appreciate a Ponting and a McGrath and a Gilchrist and, dare I say, a Symonds as much as we should a Tendulkar, a Kumble, a Dhoni and, dare I say, a Harbhajan. But do we? Or do we love our game because it allows us to wear our nationality on our sleeve? To root for our land and find a common culture? In which case we can understand why a lot of Indians were outraged by what happened in Australia and why a lot of Australians can find nothing right about Indian cricket. And why the minority in either country (the sensible minority as they would like to believe) is getting outshouted!

And so the question that the public will ask is: will Ponting and Symonds and Gibbs and Oram and Afridi and Gayle play for our money or for our team? Will they exploit our love or will they sustain and nurture it? Will they remain outsiders in our land? Or will they merge into the identities of our cities? These are early days and I don’t think we will find our answers in the first year but we will get pointers from their attitude. Will Chandigarh love Lee and Hyderabad Symonds in the manner that Manchester loved Cantona and London’s Arsenal loved Bergkamp?

The second factor I want to look at closely is the role of the coach. In such a fast, and short, game coaches may not need to work on techniques or delivery strides too much. I suspect a good coach will be one who thinks differently, almost as quickly as a cricketer will have to. Fielding, catching and throwing will become critical and coaches will have to address such issues as much as they would batting and bowling. Bowling in specific areas and being able to change pace at will become critical. A coach who is very good at working with a young bowler and explaining to him the need to bowl consistently on a length outside the off stump may be as irrelevant as the bowler who can only do that. Batsmen will have to be shown how they can broaden their minds with respect to shot making. The scoop to fine leg and the reverse sweep may become more important than the scorching cover drive.

But I believe the key will still lie in the man that prepares the pitch and the man who decides where the humble boundary rope will be. If the curator prepares a flat deck where the ball does nothing and batsmen merely hit through the line, Twenty20 will become boring. As boring as asking the defenders to move aside and making the goalkeeper the only defender in football. And if we bring the boundary rope in, in the utterly mistaken belief that more sixes will mean good cricket, Twenty20 will become as exciting as playing book cricket. The bowlers must have a chance and the batsman must know that he can get out looking for a six. Just as there are minimum spending levels so too must there be a minimum boundary size. Nothing under 70 or ideally, 75 metres.