The best and worst of the IPL

What will we remember of this IPL? In a few days, as other cricket matches and Bollywood events take over the spotlight, it is likely that our memories of the IPL will be confined to two or three images. (Different ones for all of us, of course, though I daresay Shane Warne will be the first person to come to mind when we think of this IPL.) So, before my old age kicks in and I forget things, here's my list of highlights and lowlights from this tournament. As plenty of such lists abound on cricket sites and sports pages these days, I've picked some memories from off the field as well. More Columns: An IPL XI to outplay Mars Yes, the IPL really is about accountability The IPL reveals India's bench strength I followed the entire IPL on TV, and the biggest lowlight for me was the commentary. Most of the commentators present could easily start a PR firm now, so good were they at pleasing the sponsors. Every time someone hit a six, it was a DLF Maximum. Whenever anything dramatic happened on the field, it was a Citi Moment of Success. As my old friend Rahul Bhattacharya pointed out in the Guardian's sports blog: "A future where a batsman executes a Toyota Front-Foot Drive against an Intel Faster One may not be the stuff of satire." At times, the commentary seemed like a parody of itself. In an early episode of Extraaa Innings, L Sivaramakrishnan said of cricket: "It's a hard man's game - that's why it's a profession." The anchor nodded wisely. Ravi Shastri spouted cliches like he once hit sixes, with balls staying hit once they were hit, speeding to the boundary like a tracer bullet, though it didn't matter how the runs came as long as they came. At the prize-giving at the end, when the Chennai team was collecting its medals, Shastri uttered the immortal words: "Makhaya Ntini, who's added so much colour to this tournament..." How to make satire out of this? Rameez Raja took the cake, the souffle, the mousse and the gulab jamun. At one point during the final, while discussing why Albie Morkel was batting at No. 4 for Chennai, Rameez said: "I think it's because Smith is not playing, [and] they needed experience up the order." Graeme Smith, of course, plays for Rajasthan, so why his omission should cause Morkel to come up the order for Chennai remains a mystery. Later, after Yusuf Pathan mishit a shot, Rameez said: " That's a clean strike... Pathan obviously didn't middle it." It was surreal, like he was giving commentary for two parallel universes where different things were happening. The closing ceremony of the tournament made the commentators look classy, it was that bad. It was a mix of a cheap Bollywood variety show, a circus from hell and a school annual day. Did you see the girls at the end, twirling the flags without any synchronization, no doubt humiliated to be there? Did you see the dances at the start, ostensibly supposed to represent different regions of the country but featuring dancers wearing bizarre costumes that only Film City can call tradition? Worst of all, did you see Lalit Modi's speech, in which he thanked his staff, his family and his dog for their support, as if he was winning an Oscar or a Padma Shree? All of it made the cricket look fantastic in comparison. For those of us who followed the tournament on television, the commercials were, unfortunately, also a part of the IPL, and thus deserve mention in this list. I loved the Vodafone Chhota Credit commercial, where a young girl runs out of ink during an exam and a boy behind her gives her a chhota credit of ink, but there were plenty of WTF commercials as well. I didn't understand the Coca Cola 'Jashn Mana Le' commercial where a bunch of boys open a bottle of Coke, act demented for 15 seconds, then shut up and sit down guiltily before the girls in the room also flip open their Cokes and act demented. What's the big deal about drinking Coke? Were they implying that it was a guilty pleasure? And then there was a commercial for Getz Prime featuring two models with a faux-Italian accent, which presented the car's beige interiors as a USP. And that Bharat Nirman ad for the NREGA that featured a Rahul Dravid lookalike as a manual labourer getting make-work employment from the government. Such irony. And now to the cricket itself. While Brendon McCullum began the tournament with a magical century, the innings I'll remember most was Sourav Ganguly's 86 not out against the Mohali team. As wickets fell around him, Ganguly paced the innings superbly, and the standout moment, for me, came at a time when he was at the non-striker's end. There were seven balls to go, 15 to win. Ishant Sharma was on strike. They could obviously not afford to waste a ball. Sharma tapped the ball into an empty space and set off for a run. Ganguly sent him back, rejecting the run and backing himself to start the next over with a boundary. That self-belief was vindicated. The next over read: 6, 2, 6, 1. Kolkata had made 57 runs from the last four overs, against the quality attack of Irfan Pathan, S Sreesanth, VRV Singh and Piyush Chawla. Ganguly had 45 of them. It was the stuff of nostalgia, happening in the here and now. The soft-in-the-head moment of the tournament came when Kumar Sangakkara walked in the semi-final. I know he's getting plaudits for his selfless act of sportsmanship, but if I were his team owner, I would kick his ass with my high-heeled pumps. Bowlers, wicketkeepers and fielders frequently appeal even when they know the batsman is not out. Why, then, should batsmen walk when they are out? Sangakkara began to walk off when even the wicketkeeper, Parthiv Patel, wasn't appealing, and Patel looked positively surprised to see Sangakkara leave. Unless Sangakkara had the loosies and an embarrassing outflow was inevitable, he had no business letting his team down by usurping the umpire's role. The buffoon of the tournament, with due apologies to Harbhajan Singh, was Vijay Mallya. He paid big money for a team he later said he didn't believe in, and spoke out publicly against his captain and his players halfway through the tournament. Rahul Dravid behaved with dignity and batted beautifully, even as his team stumbled its way through the tournament, as happens in sport. Contrast Mallya's juvenile infantile attitude with that of the owners of the Rajasthan Royals. Darren Berry, their director of coaching, told Nagraj Gollapudi of Cricinfo: "Manoj Badale made it clear from the start: 'Warne, Berry and Snape - you sort out the cricket, I'll sort out the business. Our lines will not cross.' It all comes down to trust." The pitch of the tournament was the Wankhede Stadium pitch for the first semi-final. Its bounce was true and the ball came on to the bat beautifully, aiding quality strokeplay; its pace and bounce offered much reward to the fast bowlers who bowled well; and the ball spun a long way on it, not just for Shane Warne but for Amit Mishra. The match wasn't a contest because one side played so very well, but the pitch was ideal. There were some players who I wish I'd seen more of. S Badrinath and Manoj Tiwari are both Test prospects I've been following keenly, but they didn't get enough batting opportunities. Badrinath played some good cameos, and looks a classy player with a cool head. Tiwari also looks the role but didn't get enough chances to play the part. I hope they keep pumping up the runs in domestic cricket. I was also surprised that Ramesh Powar got only five games (and one innings) for Kings XI Punjab and I wish I'd seen more of Pradeep Sangwan, our most promising under-19 bowler. The underperformers of the tournament, for me, were Yuvraj Singh, Sachin Tendulkar and, even though he left after the first few matches, Ricky Ponting. The overperformers were most of the local players in the Rajasthan side, who were inspired by Shane Warne to play out of their skins. They were the only team to remember in this tournament, the only team that deserved to win, because they were more than the sum of their parts, lifted up by that intangible something that makes for greatness. I wonder if we'll see more of it next year.