These days, my Instagram feed is almost completely filled with IPL content. Every second reel seems to be about the league, and honestly, that is not surprising at all. The craze for the IPL in India is huge. When 1 out of every 6 Indians watches the IPL, and when the average viewership of a match across TV, phone, and connected TV goes up to around 25 crore, the scale starts to feel unbelievable. One comparison has stayed in my mind ever since I came across these numbers: in the 2024 Lok Sabha elections, a total of 64 crore votes were cast, and the IPL gets around 25 crore viewers in a single day, even if some of them watch for only a minute. That means a number equal to almost 40 percent of all voters can end up watching the IPL in just one day. That, in itself, is massive.

If I talk about myself, I do not follow the IPL as closely anymore. But that does not mean it means less to me. I still remember 2008, the first season, when Chennai Super Kings was my favourite team because I liked Matthew Hayden so much. For some reason, I have always had a soft corner for left-handers. From Saurabh Ganguly to Parthiv Patel, Gautam Gambhir, Yuvraj Singh, Suresh Raina, Kumar Sangakkara, Sanath Jayasuriya, and Saurabh Tiwary, left-handed players always felt special to me. It is funny because I bat right-handed myself, bowl with my left hand, and even play badminton with my left hand.

Back then, CSK was my team, while my brother supported Kings XI Punjab because he was a huge fan of Yuvraj Singh. So whenever CSK played Punjab, the atmosphere at home would become tense in the most exciting way. We would tease each other constantly, and sometimes, when our favourite players failed badly, the teasing would even turn into a fight. Maybe that is one reason my memories of the IPL feel so deep. It was never just about cricket. It was also about everything that came with it.

Social media was not what it is now. Facebook existed, I think, though even that memory feels a little blurred now. But I clearly remember that the real discussions happened in the ground behind our house. My brother, his friends, my friends—we would all gather there and do our own post-match analysis. Each of us understood the game only in our own way, but we still gave our opinions freely, without trying to offend one another. Looking back now, that itself feels precious.

In my area, Kolkata Knight Riders had a huge following too. It was Shah Rukh Khan’s team, and then there were names like Dada, Ponting, McCullum, Shoaib Akhtar, and Ishant Sharma. That made KKR impossible to ignore. Still, I followed the IPL properly only till around 2011. After that, something changed in me. India’s tours of England and then Australia affected the way I looked at cricket. The team looked extremely vulnerable there, and slowly my interest shifted away from limited-overs cricket. I began to feel that red-ball cricket was the real test of a side. Limited-overs cricket was exciting, yes, but mastery in Test cricket started to feel like the greater achievement to me. That thought pushed me away from shorter formats, and even from 50-over cricket to some extent. Life is busy now, so I do not watch as much Test cricket either, but I still make sure to read the articles and stats around an important Test series.

On a personal level, I always enjoyed bowling more than batting. I have bowled quite a lot with a leather ball too. I was a spinner, a left-arm chinaman bowler, and once, while playing for an academy, I took 7 wickets in a match. Maybe that is why I have always loved watching bowlers dominate. Even in 2008, when CSK was my favourite team, one of my favourite cricketers in the tournament was Shane Warne. He was leading Rajasthan Royals, and since RR won that first IPL season, it felt as if one of my other favourite teams had won too.

That is probably why, in any format, what I really want from a cricket match is balance. I do not want the game to lean too heavily to one side. Even in T20 cricket, and especially in the IPL, I want the fast bowlers to have some control in the early overs. I want batters to be tested a little. I want them to struggle before they settle. That struggle is part of the beauty of cricket.

The 2026 season is still going on, so it would be unfair to pass a final judgment already. But till 18 April, what I had seen was that the average run rate was still around 9, which is very close to last season’s 9.62. I did not watch the 2025 IPL season fully, but I did read a few articles about it. According to those reports, there were 1200 sixes in 2025, and in 52 innings a team crossed the 200-run mark. Looking at numbers like these, it starts to feel as if the bowlers’ job was no longer to take 10 wickets, but simply to control the damage.

And honestly, what were the bowlers supposed to do? If the pitches were flat and there was no real help on offer, then of course the game would tilt heavily toward the batters. Why exactly these pitches are being prepared this way, I cannot say for sure. That is something only the BCCI can properly answer, because preparing pitches—and making sure they remain balanced enough for a fair contest—is ultimately part of its responsibility. But whatever the explanation may be, the fact remains that such batting-friendly surfaces put bowlers at a clear disadvantage.

Some people say that flat pitches, small grounds, and powerful bats naturally lead to high-scoring matches, and that the more fours and sixes there are, the more entertainment the game offers. From a business point of view, I can understand that argument. It does make the product louder, more dramatic, and probably more profitable. But from a cricketing point of view, I do not think it is right.

That is one reason I still look back fondly at the 2008 season. The run rate was 7, the total number of sixes was 620, and only in 11 innings did a team go past 200. There was a balance in that season, and to me, that balance kept the spirit of cricket alive.

I am not saying all this as an expert. I am writing it simply as an observer, and maybe also as someone who still wants cricket to feel like a contest rather than a batting exhibition. Cricket came out of red-ball cricket, and even though white-ball formats have brought new audiences, excitement, and money, I do not think we should remain stuck to only one version of the game. Limited-overs cricket can be thrilling and completely worth the time, but it still does not give me the same feeling as those moments in Test cricket when the tail is batting, 15 overs remain in the day, one team is trying with everything it has to finish the game, and the other is fighting just to survive. That tension is hard to replace.

So maybe this is my complaint, or maybe it is simply my argument for balance. I want cricket matches to move back toward a healthier contest. Not because I dislike batting, but because when aggressive hitting becomes too easy and too constant, it affects bowlers mentally as well. Confidence drops. And if that keeps happening for too long, I sometimes wonder whether we may end up producing fewer quality bowlers in the future.

Peace.

Thank you,

Raja Ranjan.