Kude kube ngeveki okanye eyadlulayo andizange i 'ukuthanda' ngayo ukubukela naziphi na Indian Premier League.
Njengoko igama yale sayithi sibonisa, I 'sidumise cricket' ngoko wacinga ukuba ngokwam kakuhle kutheni. Oku kubandakanya ngephini kunye nebhola, Abaqhokri kunye neespin bhowula alukwazi ukuba kubi.
Indlela endandiphazama. Ndakwazi nesibindi isiqingatha seyure phambi kokuba wandipha intloko ebuhlungu. It is truly a dreadful spectacle for anyone who cherishes our wonderful game.
The Indian Premier League, or ‘IPL’ to give the ‘game’ it’s almost compulsory abbreviation is as far removed from the sport of cricket as I know and love it as it is possible to be.
There were no tactics on show from either batsmen – other than slog it as hard as possible – or from the bowlers – try and stop the batsman from scoring – and in the meantime build the crowd up into a crescendo of childlike whooping and howling.
Every now and then some trumpet or something similar would sound and the crowd would screech even louder – as if they were young girls at a One Direction gig. I don’t know where this trumpet racket came from – but it appeared to be part of the show.
Kwaye zibonisa kanye oko kule. It wasn’t a game but almost akin to an episode of the X‑Factor or some other such eye aching dross on the goggle box. How a sport based on class and culture has been dragged to these depths is beyond me.
I really struggle to see how this rubbish differs from baseball
Kulungile, so it brings in some money and probably lots of it but it’s a case of selling your soul to the devil – and I for one want no part of it.
Bring me the County Championship any day of the week!
“Ibhola epinki ibonakala ingwevu / luhlaza ngombala obomvu / oluhlaza, kuxhomekeke kubukhali bayo. Ndenze ulinganiso ngobumfama bombala…”