Ben Pollard investigates the demise of One Day International cricket.

As another summer of Australian cricket has meandered to a close, it was announced recently that our former PM and ‘cricket tragic’ John Howard will step into the role of International Cricket Council president in 2012, following a two-year stint from Indian representative Sharad Pawar. Both these men will inherit several dicey issues that have potentially raking consequences for the game as we know it – the foremost issue involving whether one-day international cricket has a future. Well Mr. Howard, in Australia at least, there’s a simple answer for this conundrum: it doesn’t.

Photo by: Syam C. Used with direct permission from photographer

This contention stems from the reality that cricket’s other two forms of the game are rather complementary to each other, with one-day cricket having now assumed the role of ugly step-sister as a result. Let’s take a look at why test cricket and Twenty20 internationals together provide more than enough fare for cricket gluttons to consume.

Firstly, think about the three forms of the game and the public perception of each. Test cricket has attained an impenetrable aura of time-honoured tradition. This of course sits perfectly with the older generation of cricketing purists, while simultaneously driving many young cricketers to the history books on a mission to investigate their sport’s origins (and also to understand why Richie Benaud can still get away with his carefree nostalgic recollections during the tea break).

In contrast, the juggernaut of T20 cricket has tapped directly into the veins of youth the world over – it’s now the cool kid at the party, who has brought along his own crowd-pleasing tunes, fireworks and gratuitous amounts of dancing cheerleaders. The rapid rate this form of the game has grown at has inevitably caused the ‘purists’ to stand up and take notice. They can no longer deny the success that T20 is having in pulling a whole new (and much-needed) demographic of youngsters towards their beloved game. Together, both test and T20 cricket have most generations of viewers covered, so where are the crowds at one-dayers? Why is the perception of this form of the game suffering so severely?

Well, to answer that question, let’s view cricket from a temporal standpoint. The length of time one can sit in a seat at the MCG without resorting to copious quantities of overpriced beer varies from person to person, but it’s safe to say that some time around the three-hour mark is on the money, judging by conventions in other sports: AFL, soccer, tennis and American professional sports – all these events perennially attract enormous crowd numbers with a total running time of 2.5 to 3.5 hours (more or less). The sexed-up version of cricket, T20, fits right into this frame, catering perfectly for families and thrill-seeking sports lovers (an unprecedented 43,125 fans at a recent MCG domestic – yes, domestic – fixture will testify to that). Not a lot of people are willing to write off almost a whole day to attend a sporting event, especially when that sporting event is more often than not staged on working days. A game needs to be worthy of their time investment to warrant that sacrifice, and this is where the issue of predictability emerges.

When did you last watch the close of the first innings of a ODI, and begin to get genuinely excited because you had no idea what direction the chasing team’s innings was going to go? If you’ve been watching ODIs in Australia for the last few years, the answer is most likely going to be “a long bloody time ago”. Everyone just simply knows that if the all-too-common bumbling international captain foolishly sends the Aussies in on a typically cracking fast deck, on most occasions they’ll make 300-plus with contributions from the entire team. Everyone then also knows that the Aussie seamers will take quick early wickets, ruining the occasion for everyone at the ground, until the inexperienced touring middle-order stage a firebrand resistance effort, hitting a few sixes, sending Bill Lawry’s voice pitch into the stratosphere – but of course, this will amount only to the inevitable total of 228 and whole lot of obligatory soul-searching.

Test cricket however, still manages to attract surprising amounts of people into the ground for a good eight hours a day because of its unpredictability. Most of this summer aside, so many momentum swings and newsworthy moments usually occur, with one often cursing themselves for missing a single session in a game in which there are potentially 15! In addition, test cricket is the arena that has fostered, and continues to hold, the game’s greatest rivalries. How the everyman wants to wipe the perpetually smug looks off the South Africans’ chirpy faces. To reclaim the Ashes from those smarmy Poms. To negotiate the spinning minefields of India. To flog the Kiwis. Again. National pride hits fever pitch in test cricket, but seemingly nowhere else. It’s a phenomenon that can bring people into an event and keep them there for a day. The proposed introduction of night test matches should only enhance this ability, particularly if these games happen to replace one-day fixtures. Golf can’t convince crowds to come in and stay, and it’s in trouble. One-day cricket can’t seem to do it either, and it’s also in trouble. After all, bums on seats leads to revenue, and that’s what it’s all about for the suits in charge. T20, with the promise of high times and even higher hitting, gets the attention-deficient in, while test cricket keeps them there – it’s Cricket Australia’s marriage made in heaven.

Obviously, there is no cricket without the players, and they are an undeniable factor in drawing fans to the game. The quality of a player that is required to succeed in either test or T20 cricket is considerably more pronounced than in the case of ODI cricket. Test matches demand stamina, concentration, determination and tactical nous, whether you’re batting, bowling or fielding. It is the pure test of cricket skill. T20 matches demand power, flair, adaptation, improvisation – again, in all fields. It is a new-age test of show stopping. ODIs however, can often become a mutated fusion of these skills, producing a breed of annoying bit-part players who hardly capture the public’s attention – that includes you, James Hopes – and there is a distinct sense they don’t belong here or there.

There are indeed other cases of ODI players who can’t seem to fit in – the Dravids, Johnsons, Flemings and Atapattus, stars (or former stars) of test match cricket, but arguably less effective in the one-day environment, and conversely, the Afridis, Taits and Warners, who just can’t seem to sustain their awesome bursts of power for longer than 20 overs. Ponting, Tendulkar and Pollock were champions of both forms, but you always felt test cricket came first. Sure, rare players such as Andrew Symonds and Sanath Jayasuriya forged their reputations in ODIs, but with T20 superseding it, the format just doesn’t foster its own unique superstars to make the turnstiles click any more.

T20’s legacy will surely be to boost the numbers of kids wanting to play cricket – a definite positive for the world’s talent pools – and with an Indian to take the helm of the ICC, you can be sure it won’t be going anywhere. In India, T20 assumes a high mantle in a region where cricket is proffered as a religion, capable of bringing joy to a nation whose majority is living in poverty. Those who shine now have the opportunities to make piles upon piles of cash playing in leagues such as the ridiculously lucrative IPL. They can also compete for the ultimate national pride (come on, it’s got to be sporting success) in the test arena. The best will choose to chase both, looking to emulate and gain the respect afforded to the biggest superstars of the game. Look no further than the profiles of Gayle, Dhoni, McCullum and even Warne just to name a few players who have reached the top flight of test and T20 cricket.

So, where does the one-day format sit in the priorities of our young, budding champions? Well, let’s just say reports of its death have not been greatly exaggerated.