Chris Waters: Why rich blend of Twenty20 and Test cricket is the way forward

After I had suggested that a more profitable way to spend a rainy Saturday evening would have been to “stay at home and clean the bathroom”, rather than endure a match between Yorkshire and Durham at Headingley that had been reduced to nine overs per side, and which was played to a backdrop of drunken chanting, Regan hit back on the letter’s page.

“Twenty20 is the best thing that has happened to cricket in a long time,” opined the current chief executive of the Scottish Football Association, pictured.

“If we do not embrace it we will kiss goodbye to future generations of children playing and watching the game.

“And as for the correspondent’s views on the game I suggest he needs to get out more often.

“Or perhaps he might think of staying at home and cleaning his bathroom!”

Touche, Mr Regan. Touche.

On a point of clarity, I should just point out that I never clean the bathroom; otherwise, what would be the point of domestic servants?

And I rarely go out on account of the fact I have no friends, but enough of my private grief.

No, the point of this column is to make a confession.

For five years after Regan’s missive I must reluctantly concede that the faint whiff of coffee beans has permeated – or should that be percolated? – my cynical journalistic nostrils.

Now before we go any further, and before some of you fling your newspaper on to the fire while summoning evil spirits about my presence for undoing all my earlier hard work, allow me to make a few caveats.

First, there is nothing in my opinion to compare with Test cricket and County Championship cricket.

They represent the absolute pinnacle of the game and are the formats of the sport I love and cherish.

My definition of cricketing nirvana is Championship cricket at North Marine Road, Scarborough, closely followed by an Ashes Test at Trent Bridge, Nottingham.

I am unashamed traditionalist and one who would much rather have reported cricket in the era of former Yorkshire Post cricket correspondent JM Kilburn, whose fountain pen recorded the stirring deeds of Holmes and Sutcliffe, Bowes and Verity.

Second, I abhor some of the crowd behaviour – or more rightly crowd misbehaviour – at some Twenty20 games, which is an inevitable consequence of cricket’s attempt to attract a more football-style audience.

I cannot understand why anyone would want to go to a cricket match primarily to drink alcohol, even though I am more than happy to follow that pursuit myself in the right time and place – ie, the pub.

Third, I seriously worry about the proliferation of Twenty20 cricket and one-day cricket in general, for there is far too much of it worldwide to the extent it no longer feels like an event most of the time.

Sadly, I believe this trend is irreversible in an era in which money rules, and I would genuinely find it difficult to recall much, if anything, of the one-day internationals I have covered over the years for the simple reason the format is stale through over-exposure.

When I become Prime Minister, all 40/50-over cricket worldwide will be scrapped and we will just play first-class cricket and Twenty20, thereby accommodating traditionalists and short-form fans alike while creating space in a ridiculously tight schedule.

Twenty20, though, is anything but stale and has a genuine place in the game – albeit in greater moderation than at present.

This was brought home to me as I followed Yorkshire around last summer.

Whether it was something to do with the fact that Yorkshire have suddenly become rather good at Twenty20, as evidenced by their progress to their first Finals Day and first appearance at the Champions League, I don’t know.

But I thoroughly enjoyed watching the games, even if trying to watch and write about them at the same time is a manic experience – a bit like trying to run the Scottish Football Association, I shouldn’t wonder.

Let’s be honest, Yorkshire played superbly in last season’s Twenty20 Cup.

Their progress through the group stages was the most consistently impressive cricket I have seen from them in nine seasons working for the Yorkshire Post.

If ever a team deserved to win the cup instead of finishing runners-up, it was them, for there was a genuine quality about their work, a quality that traditionalists would surely have appreciated.

There was the sustained accuracy and hostility of Mitchell Starc and Moin Ashraf, the extraordinarily clean and powerful striking of David Miller, the regal majesty of Adam Lyth, and so on.

And, as Yorkshire got on a roll, the crowds increased, the atmosphere improved and there was a sense of a meaningful competition that had something to offer in a cricketing as well as commercial sense.

I completely concur with the old-timers that Twenty20 is not “proper cricket”, for want of a better term, but you would have to have a closed mind not to appreciate some of the skill that goes into it.

Granted, there is a lot that is highly unsatisfactory about the format.

The horribly forced razzmatazz (particularly when the weather is bad and the crowds sparse), the dreary bursts of music after each wicket or boundary (as if a cover drive can only truly be appreciated if accompanied by a quick blast of Queen’s We Will Rock You), the sad hype that often surrounds it, and the motives and manners of some spectators who watch it.

But it can also create genuine excitement, fill otherwise empty grounds, swell coffers and, more importantly, improve cricketing skills in certain cases.

I don’t agree with Stewart Regan that “Twenty20 is the best thing that has happened to cricket in a long time” but I do concede that the coffee to which he referred five years ago is not only worth smelling but sipping as well.

and another thing...

ON the subject of Twenty20 my attention was drawn the other day to a bizarre attack by former Yorkshire fast bowler Tino Best on current Yorkshire batsman David Miller on the social networking site Twitter.

After Miller had been helped from the field in Yorkshire’s opening Champions League game against Uva Next with blood pouring from his nose after being struck in the face by an Umar Gul bouncer, Best launched the following unprovoked assault… “David Miller u think GuL is a County Medium Pacer that u beat around #Have Respect #Serious Pace Love to see batmen getting hit #awesome”

In spite of the curious wording, grammar and capitalisation (Best should really have been a journalist), the comment highlighted something I have always thought about him: namely, that he is a rather sad individual.

But Best was only warming up.

A little while later he followed up with another tweet… “I really hoping that @Yorkshireccc plays in the Caribbean T20 so I cud break some ribs and toes and helmets #Pace … @LoveBowlingFast #97mph”

I rest my case, Your Worship.