Super Dan and Ugly Brendon

The difference between Clark Kent and Daniel Vettori is that Clark Kent took his glasses off before saving the day.

India had slowed down a little but were still ahead of the rate, seemingly cruising to victory when Vettori brought himself back on for the 17th over. Yusuf Pathan could not make much out of the first two balls, but latched on to the third, sending a screamer back over the bowler’s head. A certain four, quite likely six. Except that SuperDan leapt, stuck both hands in the air and despite being knocked sideways by the force of the blow, was still clinging on to the ball when he hit the ground.

It was a stunning catch. The remaining Indian batsmen seemed dazed as they pushed and prodded for singles and scrambled twos when boundaries were needed. The crowd in the Upper Compton stand, which had been shouting loud enough for an entire full house, stopped mid-yell and sat in shock as the game slipped away.

Catches indeed win matches – even in a form of the game where wicket-taking is theoretically optional.

Not that this was Vettori’s only influence on the Indian innings. Gautam Gambhir and Rohit Sharma had started well, Gambhir falling at the end of the fifth over with the score on 42 to bring danger man MS Dhoni to the crease. Dhoni began with dot-four-two and then Vettori brought himself on for the first over after the powerplay. By the end of the over, he had disposed of both Dhoni and Sharma, and India wobbled slightly. Since Raina and Ravindra Jadeja soon picked up the pace, it did not seem to have mattered all that much; in hindsight, perhaps it left them a batsman short right at the end. And of course it was Vettori whose sharp pick-up and throw ran out Irfan Pathan to extinguish India’s remaining hopes.

Other than Vettori, the rest of the participants in the game mostly did what you probably expected them to. Raina and Sharma hit the ball sweetly, Ross Taylor and Scott Styris aggressively, and Brendon McCullum batted with the grace and subtlety of an out-of-tune Motorhead.

I do not demand classical purity of technique. I’ve watched in awe as Brian Lara and Kevin Pietersen invented shots I’d never seen before. I’ve weathered, just, the storm as Viv Richards the Master Blaster unleashed his elemental power. I love it that the unorthodox jostles with the technically correct to enrich this wonderful game.

But that does not mean I have to approve of McCullum’s batting.

Effective it may be – when it comes off – but it is ugly, ugly, ugly. I do not for a minute accept that Twenty20 is some horrible mutant as the form’s most vehement detractors would have you believe, but McCullum is the sort of unhelpful evidence the defence does not need to have brought before the court. At the very least, his innings ought to be regarded as not suitable viewing for impressionable young minds – but since the whole idea of this tournament is to get the kids watching, I fear that a whole generation may be corrupted while such menace is allowed out on a cricket field.

Over the next three weeks we will see brilliance and incompetence, thrilling games and bad ones, beauty, courage, comedy, athleticism, determination, clumsiness, impudence, passion, triumph and despair. And McCullum’s batting.

We got most of those at Lord's on Monday evening. As a warm-up, India v New Zealand was just about perfect.