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Protecting the classics: how to keep 50-over cricket relevant

One-day internationals have produced some of the game’s greatest matches but context is key for a sustainable future

England’s Jos Buttler runs out New Zealand’s Martin Guptill to end the 2019 World Cup final, a 50-over classic.
England’s Jos Buttler runs out New Zealand’s Martin Guptill to end the 2019 World Cup final, a 50-over classic. Photograph: Tom Jenkins/The Guardian

What do you think is the greatest cricket match of all time? Perhaps you’d like to offer a Test that spanned all five days and reached a crescendo in the final session. Or maybe the contest that really grabbed you was a pyrotechnic-laden T20. There’s no wrong answer here, but I’m willing to bet a tenner on the hunch that most people reading this would pick a 50-over classic.

Which one tops them all? There’s the World Cup final at Lord’s in 2019 where New Zealand nurdled their way to a competitive score before Ben Stokes – with a bit of help from Trent Boult’s right heel and the wrong side of his GM bat – levelled the scores to set up a super-over victory by the barest of margins. In 2006 Ricky Ponting’s 164 pulverised South Africa at the Wanderers to steer Australia to a record total of 434, only to watch Herschelle Gibbs clobber 175 as the Proteas chased their target down with a ball to spare. That triumph, lovingly dubbed the ‘438 game’ by South Africans, partially made up for the tied World Cup semi-final in Birmingham seven years earlier, itself a contender for the most thrilling game in the sport’s entire history.

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s all condensed into one manageable day stretched across eight hours; plenty of time for undulations and second chances. Innings can be rebuilt. Multiple spells with the ball offer opportunities for redemption. Individual knocks can accelerate and decelerate as captains juggle short-term gains with long-term strategies. There’s also enough time to nip down to the bar without the anxiety of missing a large chunk of the action.

Why then has this format been relegated to middle-child status? Caught between the pedigree of Test cricket and the cash-cow that is T20s, the 50-game is neither here nor there. It can’t be squeezed into a digestible broadcast slot nor will it ever attract the attention of deep-pocketed franchise owners. And despite its relatively long history (the first ODI was a hastily arranged 40-over affair in 1971 that served as filler for a washed-out Ashes Test in Melbourne) it has all the maturity of a Gen-Z TikTok dance when compared to the red-ball game. The Indian great Sachin Tendulkar recently called 50-over cricket “boring” and “predictable”.

Australia’s Pat Cummins lifts the World Cup after leading his side to victory over India in the 2023 final.
Australia’s Pat Cummins lifts the World Cup after leading his side to victory over India in the 2023 final. Photograph: Andrew Boyers/Reuters

In 2023 the MCC suggested limiting men’s bilateral ODIs after the 2027 World Cup, questioning the value of the format in an already stacked calendar. Its president at the time, Mark Nicholas, told ESPNcricinfo: “We believe strongly that ODIs should be World Cups only. We think it’s difficult bilaterally now to justify them. They’re not filling grounds in a lot of countries. And there is a power at the moment to T20 cricket that is almost supernatural.” He added: “In a free market, the most money wins. And that’s just the endgame.”

There have been counter arguments from prominent voices. Pat Cummins, who lifted the 2023 World Cup as Australia’s captain, called the tournament the “pinnacle of cricket”. AB de Villiers, holder of the fastest 50 (16 balls), 100 (31 balls) and 150 (64 balls) in the format, said he “simply cannot agree” with the MCC’s verdict and that “if you want to go that route, ODIs should just move on”.

This would feel like throwing the baby out with the bathwater, but De Villiers has a point. What purpose would the 50-over game serve if it was only played for a few weeks every four years? White-ball specialist bowlers would have to more than double their workload. Batters unaccustomed to pacing their innings would no doubt find themselves floundering. The spectacle would descend to farce. Even the romantics would want to see it put out of its misery.

There is another route. Context is key and there is a way to ensure that 50-over matches, including bilateral series, have value. The World Test Championship – despite its flaws and English indifference – has injected new life into the oldest format. A rethink could do the same for ODIs.

The solution requires three simple steps. First, the T20 World Cup must return to a four-year cycle. Not only would this increase its appeal but also ensure that the 50-over edition could occupy the gaps between. For example, the next ODI World Cup is in 2027. That would then move the next T20 World Cup to 2029, with the following ODI World Cup taking place in 2031, and so on.

The next step would be to scrap the Champions Trophy. With respect to the ongoing competition, this was never meant to be anything more than a brief knockout event that would be over in a week. It feels totally unnecessary and devoid of any deep meaning today. There’s a reason it was shelved in 2017. Only the promise of revenue has brought it back.

The final and most important step would then be to align all international white-ball games with subsequent World Cups. For two years bilateral international white-ball series would be confined to just one format. Teams could develop identities, coaches could formulate clear strategies and fans could follow a coherent narrative thread culminating in a single showdown event. Franchise cricket would remain untouched but would not affect the international game. This new approach would give both white-ball formats room to breathe, providing ODIs the opportunity to add to the list of classics.

Quote of the week

I may take him for dinner tomorrow” – one always feels a little guilty dropping a catch. But Rohit Sharma’s blushes were as crimson as a fresh Dukes after he shelled a regulation chance at first slip that denied spinner Axar Patel a maiden ODI hat-trick in the game against Bangladesh. At the time of writing, the pair have yet to break bread over the incident.

Rohit Sharma after India’s win over Bangladesh
Rohit Sharma after India’s win over Bangladesh. Photograph: Alex Davidson/ICC/Getty Images

In praise of ‘everyman’ Duckett

If you were taking Creative Writing 101, your tutor would comment that the name you’d chosen was a little too on the nose. “Really? That’s what you’re going to call your squat and waddling protagonist? Why don’t you give him a beak and feathers while you’re at it?”

In a room filled with physically imposing alpha bro athletes, Ben Duckett is the everyman. Joe Root is taller than you think. Jos Buttler is ripped. Ben Stokes looks like an Instagram influencer. Jofra Archer has limbs that serve as trebuchets. Duckett stands at 5ft 7in. But like Samwise Gamgee or Turtle from Entourage, he has become the star of the show.

His 165 off 143 balls against Australia on Saturday is the fifth-highest score by an Englishman in ODI cricket. Though it didn’t help his team win the game, it established Duckett as an indispensable cog in English cricket’s machine. The 30-year-old now opens the batting across all three formats and, despite looking like they’d eat at opposite ends of the cafeteria, is very much Brendon McCullum’s main man at the top of the order.

Ben Duckett on the attack against Australia
Ben Duckett on the attack against Australia. Photograph: KM Chaudary/AP

His abilities are ultra-modern and otherworldly, but everything else about him is relatable. He’s also a throwback of sorts. Tony Greig had the thinning comb-over of a tax consultant from the 1960s. Graham Gooch had the paunch of a pub landlord. Without a bat, David Gower was as groovy as Steve Urkel. These are not intended as insults. Seeing ordinary people do extraordinary things adds to the enjoyment. In the era of rippling biceps and hair transplants, Ducket feels like a return to something nostalgic, something familiar. That is until he takes guard and unleashes hell with a willow.

Memory lane

A year before South Africa’s Proteas were branded as chokers, they lifted an ICC trophy in what proved to be a false dawn. The inaugural Champions Trophy was a straight knockout affair involving the top nine teams in the world. New Zealand beat Zimbabwe to make it eight and, from there, it was winner-stays-on in Bangladesh. A trio of scores in the 60s from Daryll Cullinan, Jonty Rhodes and captain Hansie Cronje saw South Africa ease past England’s score of 281 for seven (at the time a handy total) to reach the semis. A Jacques Kallis ton helped trounce Sri Lanka before the great all-rounder claimed a five-for in the final against West Indies. A young side coached by Bob Woolmer was starting to find its groove thanks to a blistering pace attack, spearheaded by Shaun Pollock and Allan Donald, and ahead-of-its-time fielding standards. It was assumed that a World Cup title would follow soon after …

Derek Crookes and Goolam Rajah lift the trophy in celebration of winning the Wills International Cup in Dhaka, Bangladesh
Derek Crookes and Goolam Rajah lift the trophy in 1998. Photograph: Clive Mason/Getty Images

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