A man walks into a pub, orders a drink and sits down. On two huge screens either side of the bar, the 2025 Indian Premier League is taking place, not that this establishment’s punters are paying it much attention. April and the English domestic cricket season are just around the corner as, 5,000 miles away, the 18th edition of the IPL has just begun. The tournament will roll on until the end of May, a juggernaut with Ceat tyres. Ceat, helping the world move safely and smartly.
Now I know what you are thinking: it’s that time of year when a sniffy English cricket writer has a pop at the razzmatazz of the IPL while getting misty-eyed about a county seamer hooping a Dukes about on damp English loam. Well, not quite. That was the old me. Wonder Cement stands for fairness, integrity and pursuit of truth. It’s only right that they are the official sponsor of the next paragraph.
Back in the pub, and on the screens, Delhi Capitals are locked in battle with Lucknow Super Giants in Visakhapatnam. Ashutosh Sharma is playing the innings of his 26-year-old life to keep Delhi alive chasing a target of 209. Not that this establishment’s punters are paying much attention. Besides the man, the pub has a smattering of customers. Two older blokes slurp a couple of post-work pints in near silence, in the opposite corner a younger gaggle of colleagues clink and natter away over spatchcocked bags of ready salted. Next to the man, a middle-aged goth sits in full regalia.
Halfway through the 19th over, Kuldeep Yadav is run out to leave Delhi needing 18 runs off nine balls with the last pair at the crease. “Getting exciting now,” the goth mutters, nodding towards the screen. The man sips his pint as the images wash over him. Ashutosh lofts a six down the ground that narrowly avoids Nicholas Pooran’s attempt at a leaping catch.
At that precise moment the pub doors fly open like a Western saloon and two excitable men in their early 30s bluster in with phones in hand, one is clearly invested in the result of this match. A Lucknow Ultra perhaps? Has placed a bet on Delhi getting the win? Maybe. Their energy interests the other punters and all eyes turn to the television screens to see what the fuss is about. The commentary level is at a low rumble, but there’s enough Ian Bishop burr wafting out to suggest something exciting is happening.
Ashutosh bunts the next ball through the covers for four and one of the two excitable men lets out a groan and deflates instantaneously. He did not want that to happen. “C’mon, mate, it’s done,” the other consoles with a grin. They turn on their heels, the forlorn man looking back over his shoulder one last time as they depart.
Delhi need six runs from the last over. The coverage shows the vast stadium is packed and the crowd are totally invested, closeups show fans daubed in face paint and wearing teams colours, most are whooping and cheering, a few bite their nails or stare into the middle distance with dejection.
A man in his 50s waddles into the bar in a hurry, cheeks flushed, pale blue official England cricket beanie on his head. What’s going on here? Another superfan desperate to see the end of this game – match four of 74 no less. Alas no, England Beanie-man is desperate for something else and heads straight past the bar to the loo, not diverting his gaze for even a split second.
“Done it,” the goth exclaims as Ashutosh slams a six down the ground and the celebrations begin in Visakhapatnam. Our man looks around and the entire pub is watching the match, pointing, smiling, chatting. England Beanie-man emerges from the gents and heads straight back out of the pub without a second glance.
Now this entire sketch may read a bit like something that would appear in the Didn’t Happen Of The Year Awards 2025, but I can assure you it did. Reader, I am that first man. Watching the newly relieved but seemingly IPL-uninterested England fan slope away while a disparate group who were all initially indifferent but then drawn in by the nuts and bolts of the game – batter, bowler, a target to chase – struck me as a neat analogy.
There are 10 England players in this year’s IPL, the lowest in eight years. Ben Stokes decided to swerve the tournament completely and Harry Brook pulled out a few weeks ago. Under new IPL regulations, both men could end up missing the next two iterations.
After envy, and an initial reluctance to engage barring the bellwether that was Kevin Pietersen, followed by a period of embrace typified by Eoin Morgan, it seems English cricket is entering a third, slightly cooler phase with the IPL. It’s not you, it’s me, I’m just really busy at the moment. Stokes’s and Brook’s decisions to concentrate on their England roles will no doubt please many, especially with huge Test series against India and Australia on the horizon not to mention a tanking white-ball set-up in need of rescue.
If pushed I would fall into this bracket, whisper it but the IPL didn’t really do it for me. Everything from the cloying plugs for the corporate sponsors to the seemingly endless fixtures and high-scoring matches was a bit of a turn-off. Fine to have it waft over you in a pub or as some quiet Sunday afternoon white noise. “Life is what happens with the IPL on in the background” to misquote John Lennon.
There’s that sniffy attitude then but that is changing, for this fan at least. The IPL is undeniable, it’s a dream factory, vast moneymaker and feverish spectacle and is here to stay. It might not be for you and that’s fine. Cricket is a broad church, a trip to the pub showed just that.
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