It won’t be the same this year. Having been lucky enough to have had a vantage point last year, I could see the enthusiasm and the energy that people filled stadiums with. The crowds made IPL 1. Without them it would have been just another tournament; they made it the biggest thing to have happened to cricket. And the players were exceptional in their commitment; at any rate most of them. You had some people of dubious attitude and they stood out but most others immersed themselves into their new teams, sharing knowledge, sparing time for younger players and showing why they had entry into the world of the greats. The players will still be there this year but there will be something missing.

Having said that we need to weigh what is missing with all that we might have otherwise missed. As the situation grew in complexity, as various actors clambered onto the stage, it was no longer a question of whether or not the IPL should be in India. It was whether or not the IPL should happen. It was no longer about whether we should have curd rice or pasta but whether we can have dinner at all. And that is what the IPL organisers have done; they have gone in search of a different restaurant because theirs is closed for dinner.

So is Mr Modi wrong or Mr Chidambaram? The IPL or the government of India? Ignore for a moment the language used or the combativeness on display and cut to the options they had. Mr Chidambaram, like a bowler does, used his prerogative to set the field. Now that was given. He wasn’t going to provide central forces (and what a sad moment in itself that the availability of anti-terror forces should be the deciding factor in our game!), and he wasn’t going to allow state governments to take policemen away from election duty. Now faced with this, the IPL could either have conceded defeat or played a shot, which is the prerogative of the batsman. They have chosen to play an unconventional shot, a switch hit if you choose, having used up other options. So now, Mr Chidambaram has what he wants, which is the forces he needs to conduct an election and Mr Modi has a sub-optimal result, not a boundary maybe but a three, but at least he is batting.

So has the IPL told the world it is unsafe to play sport in India by moving out? No, it hasn’t. It has accepted the ground reality that a tournament of this scale in the middle of the world’s largest and most complex democratic exercise is unviable. A tournament of this size any other time or a smaller event in the middle of an election is still possible. The Davis Cup tie against Australia for example, probably doesn’t need to be moved out.

But now everyone leads to look ahead, to make the best of the situation that presents itself. That is what sport teaches you; that there is no point in looking at what might have been, that you try and win the game from the position you are in. And the big plus with moving it overseas is that allows the brand to acquire a larger global presence. The IPL has created a wow factor across the entire sporting world (yesterday, at a formula 1 promotional event Shane Warne was asked questions about the IPL) and this is an opportunity to demonstrate it in another land. In another part of the world names like Mumbai Indians, Chennai Super Kings and Delhi Daredevils will enter the minds of sports lovers the way Liverpool, Manchester United and Arsenal have with young Indians. Football leagues have been around much longer and football is many many times the size of cricket but isn’t this a delicious thought? That a kid in Cape Town would talk of being a Rajasthan Royals fan or a young man in Durban would want to support the Mumbai Indians?

Moving the IPL to South Africa isn’t the best thing that could have happened. But as a fall back option it has much merit.