Cricket confronts its identity crisis

Know thyself. It has been a cornerstone of Western philosophy since it was written on the forecourt of the Temple of Apollo. Even earlier, knowledge of the self was an important strand in Hindu writing.

Know thyself is just as important for sports as individuals. Without understanding the essence of itself, and addressing its fears, a sport cannot function to its maximum potential.

Perhaps if we can draw any good from the rumpus that has followed Chris Gayle's excruciating on-camera chat-up lines to a professional journalist trying to do her job, it is that cricket has begun to know itself - that it has begun to come to a realisation about its true nature.

It was a day when the Big Bash League looked at Gayle, the giggling commentators, the players in the dugout who saw only bantz, and the disturbing number of fans who have defended Gayle of charges of disrespect, sexism and low-level harassment ever since, and said: "No, this is not for us."

International cricket has long championed cricket's behavioural code and, by and large, it holds together. As T20 becomes more powerful, it also shares that duty and Cricket Australia has proved worthy of the responsibility. The outcry against Gayle occured in part because it was a watershed moment. He was undermining the Big Bash's delight in looking progressive and inclusive. All T20 leagues around the world must show the same resolve.

Suspected in many parts of the world as elitist, regarded by many as outdated, cricket has been predicted for decades to be a sport in gradual decline, a sport divorced from the defining spirit of the age. India, where cricket is so successful, will not recognise the symptoms, but in many other parts of the world they are all too clear.

T20 has given cricket a golden opportunity to rejuvenate, to prove its critics wrong, to spread the game like never before. The endless run of record crowds in the BBL - happy, fulfilled crowds, many young converts understanding more about the game with every visit - tells of a game on the up and up. That sort of sudden acclaim could make a sport delirious.

Cricket is speaking to supporters new and old, but whether it is five days or three hours, whites or coloured clothes, contemplative or boisterous, country or club, at its heart it needs to choose where it stands in this modern age, decide upon the virtues it wishes to protect, and speak with one voice. Exciting opportunities to grow the game abound and they must not be compromised by sniping between old and new.

As the only major sport offering three distinct forms of the game - all of them valuable, each of them commercially viable in at least some parts of the world - it has a unique opportunity to succeed. But that very fact also means it has also been threatened by a multiple personality disorder that could eventually destroy it. The success of one format is seen as a threat to another.

Other sports do not have this tension. A couple of Christmases ago, I was persuaded to go and watch a game of club rugby union. It was a much bigger crowd than normal - a happy, festive crowd, sharing chocolates, beers and even hip flasks - but when the opposing team won a kickable penalty, the PA announcer clearly did not trust its nature. There were too many interlopers about.

"For those not familiar with the conduct of rugby union, it is traditional for absolute silence while the penalty is being taken," the announcer boomed. There was not a squeak from anyone. In fact, the kicker was so spooked by the silence he skewed his shot hopelessly low and wide. Cue stifled laughter and a trip to the bar.

You can say one thing about rugby union - it knows what behavioural standards it expects. At times, to people like me, more used to football crowds, rugby's behavioural rules can seem arcane. But the game knows what it likes and those high standards spread from the field onto the terraces. Okay, it is not infallible - you can normally identify a student rugby union club by the blokes behaving most obnoxiously in the bar - but you get the drift.

Rugby union knows itself. So for that matter does rugby league.

Football also knows its own nature. It knows that the passion generated by the crowd is an enormous part of its appeal. You can scream at penalty-takers as much as you like: no PA announcer demanding decorum for the away team here.

Football knows that winning is everything and it adopts a lax view towards the amount of deceit needed to achieve it. As long as the desire of players and fans is so high, as long as the game matters so much, then the dodgy banter, the dives, the fake injuries, the perpetual haranguing of the referee and the hilarious post-match spin-doctoring by the managers is all part of the battle between Good and Evil, as perceived by the individual fan.

Ever since the 1970s, when hooliganism became a blight on English football - and in other European countries too - the imperative has been to stop people fighting. Those efforts have been largely successful.

Curbing racism has more recently become football's greatest challenge. As the Premier League in England - and leagues in many other parts of the world - has become more and more multiracial, crowds have made the same move towards maturity. Prejudices have been challenged because of tribal loyalties to a side now drawn from many parts of the world. Racism in football is now widely condemned. Pockets remain, prejudice sometimes shockingly apparent, sometimes lightly concealed, but progress has been made. One day when a leading footballer comes out as gay, football might even contribute to the fight against homophobia.

Football knows what matters. Football, for good and bad, knows itself.

Cricket is an elderly bloke coping with a second adolescence. As the game has embraced T20, the tension has been palpable. Many lovers of Test cricket still fear this loud young upstart and treat it with disdain. Some newcomers attracted by T20 see it as a chance to diss the behavioural standards that cricket traditionally holds so dear. "It's our game now," they cry. Both are misguided. Confident leadership is essential so the game can embrace all formats in a way where they can coexist.

The weakness of the ICC has been paramount in allowing this uncertainty to spread. India's neocon approach is concerned primarily with flexing its own financial muscle. Courageous long-term planning to expand the game, and integrate international and club formats in a coherent calendar, is nowhere to be seen. Instead, market forces are determining where the future lies. Market forces know only winners and losers. No wonder the traditionalists are consumed by the fear that the game could change beyond all recognition.

What does cricket really want? Is it really going to be fulfilled when it obtains it? As T20 grows ever stronger and brings new opportunities, what values does it want to protect? All are questions for a game seeking to know itself.

The Big Bash League has begun to answer those questions. Its success has been thrilling, just as the success of IPL was before. Interest now extends beyond the same old Test XI and, along with the dancing and the cheering, new spectators are already developing an understanding for the game. Allegiances, rivalries and knowledge will grow.

At a time where it could be complacent at its success, the BBL has looked at its packed crowds not with greed but with recognition that it has an exciting future - for men, women and children - that must be protected.

The Chris Gayle affair is part of that story. Gayle's supporters have argued that he has become victimised. They proclaim that the response has been excessive. It is fair to suggest that the very informality and licence of T20 cricket led Gayle into his indiscretion.

But occasionally a game reaches a crossroads. The reminder that T20 professional cricket is a meaningful sporting contest not a celebrity game show was a timely one. Cricket has stated core values for the modern age based on happiness, inclusiveness and mutual respect. It has also stated its confidence in the game itself. It might not yet entirely know itself, but it is not a bad start.