I thought of that, and the similar conflict between mindset and needs, while watching the IPL unfold. There were many stalwarts on view, substantial men who earned their reputation by denying the opposition any opportunity of a wicket. Very often, they were capable of playing zero risk cricket, an invaluable ability in Test matches. But the IPL isn’t so much about zero risk cricket as it is about managing risk. Suddenly a 50-50 chance is seen to be worth taking and occasionally, batsmen are game to play, by qualitative judgement, in 20-30 per cent success zones. That is how an Asnodkar plays, or occasionally a Vidyut or even a Saha and almost always a Sehwag.

People like Kallis or Chanderpaul or Dravid, some of the biggest names in cricket, have never put a ‘for sale’ sign in their display window. These are stubborn men who challenge adversity and grind away at it. And so their perception of risk is always going to be different. To be fair, a Dravid emerged as the leading run scorer for his side but when he was bowled trying to cut a ball on middle stump, it didn’t seem right. Even in our minds, it was okay for an Asnodkar or a Yusuf Pathan to get out that way but not Dravid or Kallis or Tendulkar.

In course of time when slightly longer, and even longer, cricket returns, risk will be assessed differently. The 30 second film-maker will never be able to pause and generate a smile or a tear in his frenetic style. Bowlers won’t need to be taken off after two overs and a rapid 28 might be seen to be an irresponsible innings. Either specialisation will take root or, as has always happened throughout the history of the game, the pedigreed will learn to adjust. This is only the first year, we sometimes forget.

Interestingly though, the old guard have managed much better with ball in hand. I must confess I thought, and I wasn’t alone, that the greats, Glenn McGrath and Shaun Pollock would struggle; that I wouldn’t be able to bear the sight of them being tonked around by little brats. Their extraordinary ability to bowl the right length would actually make them predictable in T20, we thought. Quite the contrary has happened and I suspect it is because they are both so wonderfully balanced and relaxed in their delivery stride. It is almost as if they pause and decide where to put the ball and that extra moment allows them the flexibility to alter their line and length. If the batsman moves early, and they often do in T-20, they have the time to factor that in because of their wonderful delivery stride.

And when there is something in the wicket, even a flicker of life, they have been magnificent. At the Wankhede, where there was a bit of seam movement for Shaun Pollock, the batsmen suddenly seemed exposed, their assessment of risk gone awry. The script was different and the masters, who had read more scripts, prospered while the others withered. Pollock served the perfect dish and it showed that even in this condensed game, the wicket taking bowler is a priceless asset.

I suspect though that the greatest innovation is going to come about in fielding. As running between the wickets improves, the fielders will have to get quicker and stronger. And there will be a greater need for explosive power. Dwayne Bravo showcased that brilliantly. As the ball came towards him, like a leopard on the prowl he seemed to coil himself up and in his last three strides he was dazzlingly quick swooping on the ball like the animal might on its prey. It helped that he is a brilliant athlete and I can already see T20 players doing sprint training to perfect the explosive take-off.

But there will be room in cricket for the classical player and the whippy improviser, for the epic story-teller and the ad film maker. No other sport can claim this and that is why we must embrace all three forms of the game.