Let's cut out the hypocrisy

	Anyone who is pretending to have realised that the whole thing has very little to do with cricket is being disingenuous © Getty Images Enlarge

Let me get this straight. Even as they pursue the richest prize ever in the history of the game, England's cricketers and officials are still boldfaced enough to complain, overtly or covertly, about being used and abused during the Stanford Super Series.

Kevin Pietersen has been griping about the pitch being too slow, the lights at the Stanford Cricket Ground being too low and just can't wait for the week to be over, especially in the wake of a stomach bug that is making its way through his team. And let's not forget the little issue of Allen Stanford being caught on camera during England's opening match against Middlesex on Sunday amongst the visiting players' wives and partners, with one of them perched on his lap.

For an organisation (the ECB) and a team (they have as many support staff as the England football squad, probably more) noted for a very high level of preparation ahead of any undertaking, the notion now being floated around that they must rethink the five-year deal with Stanford merely confirms that everyone concerned from the other side of the Atlantic just washed their feet and jumped in at the sight of the US$20 million, with no real consideration for the consequences or the circumstances in which they were putting themselves.

In this sense, they are no different from most of us who were sold hook, line and sinker a long time ago on the Stanford concept, more because of the glitz, glamour and stacks of money than for any altruistic motives related to the resuscitation of West Indies cricket in the foreseeable future.

It's just that it's so very hypocritical of the English to be tut-tutting and ho-humming about being used as stage props in what is really a grandiose exercise for the marketing of the Stanford brand, especially as none of the officials or allegedly outraged players will even entertain the thought of pulling out of tomorrow's big-money bash under the same low lights and on the same slow pitch at the Stanford Cricket Ground.

Their words of protest ring very hollow, especially as it seems that all of this collective backing-back from an event that they were happy to dive headlong into has more to do with the relentless licks that they and the event are getting from their own media than the sudden pricking of their cricketing consciences over the past few days.

And just on the topic of what has been described in some quarters as Stanford flirting with cricketers' partners while they were on the field, the image I saw of the event didn't show them as uncomfortable or embarrassed by having the gregarious gentleman in such close proximity. It certainly didn't appear that he had to drag one of them kicking and screaming onto his lap.

Anyone who is pretending to have realised that the whole thing has very little to do with cricket is being disingenuous. It's just that they hoped they could join the free-for-all and take the money and run, with their presumptuous reputations for propriety and upstanding conduct - at least in matters related to the game - intact.

In case you interpret this column as railing against the perceived evils of Twenty20 cricket and it's apparently increasing threat to the survival of the pure and sanctified experience that is Test cricket, please disabuse yourself of that notion.

Anyone proclaiming himself or herself as a purist, because of their unyielding preference for the traditional version of the game over the relatively new fast-food variety, better spend more time poring over cricket history. They will realise that the survival of the five-day version (it wasn't always five days by the way) over the last 131 years has as much to do with compromise, corruption and jiggery-pokery as any of its proclaimed virtues relating to discipline, dedication, character and unfolding drama.

If more and more fans are gravitating towards Twenty20, so what? They aren't committing a sin. We may want to interpret deeper issues related to the rush towards Twenty20 at the expense of the longer game as some sort of metaphor for the changing face of society, especially in our Caribbean context. But sometimes you can go too far with all of that.

It's only a game. It's just a matter of like and dislike. I like Test cricket and will therefore be biased towards what I consider to be its superior qualities over other forms of the game.

Someone else will be hooked on to Twenty20 for whatever reason (it could be a matter of pure entertainment, or an appreciation of the concentrated skills levels) and should have no qualms about saying so.

Who is better, someone like me who likes tomato choka, or a connoisseur of cordon bleu cuisine? You get the point. It's the hypocrisy that we could do without.