Where does the fan go now?

Since the time televised cricket became the norm, the Indian cricket fan has become among the ficklest species on the face of this planet. The rate at which he is capable of switching from worshipping his heroes to throwing stones at them would put a chameleon to shame. Movies over the years have dwelt at length on the topic of amnesia and short-term memory loss. In the world of cricket, and arguably across most sport, you would not have to look beyond us fans for a full-length case study on such topics.

And then the BCCI chose to create a monster of its own. A popular narrative around the origin of the IPL is that it was created to keep the ever-demanding Indian fan happy. After all, at the end of an IPL game, either way, an Indian team always wins. No stone-throwing, no effigy-burning, more money for the sporting body, and eternal happiness for the Indian fan. What happened in these two months of the year, in fact, brought down the amount of displeasure the Indian fan showed in the other ten, when the national team suffered defeat. Even when 0-8 happened, we did not see public protests of the sort we saw when India crashed out of World Cup 2007. Not even a whimper when a home ODI series against Pakistan was lost. So what has changed in the last few years?

Crony capitalism. Cabals. Conflict of interest. Fancy terms doing the rounds in the past few years in India. In about the same time the IPL has grown from being Lalit Modi's baby to a multi-million dollar Frankenstein. Cricket fans from previous eras, while observant of allegations doing the rounds, chose not to pay too much attention to them. Here and there, a sting operation or a small-scale expose would crop up. Life moved on. The prospect of seeing so many cricketers getting financial security for life, should they not make it big, made us proud. To the league's credit, the loyalty of the fan bases grew rapidly, at least in certain pockets. The rise of social networks and micro-blogging meant more people discussed cricket at one place, like never before. It all somehow fit. Coincidence, said the critics. Planning and perfect execution, was the IPL's riposte.

Amid all this, it would even be safe to say that the rabid Indian fan we all knew of half a decade ago - he who threw stones and set Eden Gardens afire in 1996, he who rioted and made Sachin Tendulkar walk out and plead to him to let cricket go on in 1999, he who threw crackers at the West Indians in Jamshedpur, is now an extinct species. Ironically, six years from when the process of keeping the fan happy at all times began, we find ourselves at a place where we wouldn't mind going back to the time when effigies were burnt. Back then, nobody spoke of "bereavement" and "death of the game". To use a political analogy, this is conclusive proof that the perils and ills of democracy are far more palatable than those of anarchy and oligarchy.

That afternoon in 1999, when India floundered against Pakistan at the Eden Gardens, Sachin came out and asked thousands of angry fans to calm down. We smirked, but we moved on. Fast forward to today. It seems impossible to figure out where we would start this time. Who is going to come and convince us that all is well with the game?

Even worse, it is not about us fans anymore. Even if Sachin were to come out today, who would he go and plead at? Power, resting in the hands of a few men who knew little of the game and its history, has put cricket at a place where we only thought politics and society existed. We always believed, when we said cricket is a religion. Whatever happened in life, we thought the game was too good for all this. Six years, and they've made my generation think, those days of effigy-burning and cracker-throwing were the best days of our lives.

If you have a submission for Inbox, send it to us here, with "Inbox" in the subject line