No rhyme or rhythm in sport, just randomness
In The Shining Girls, Lauren Beukes’ extraordinary novel, there are four sentences, pearls of wisdom, that could be used to describe the discombobulating improbability that is sport: “There are patterns because we try to find them. A desperate attempt at order because we can’t face the terror that it might all be random. He is undone by the revelation. He has the sense of losing his footing, as if the whole damn world is stuttering.”
This is the moment when Harper, the limping, timetravelling serial killer who is hunting down said shining girls, realises he may not be in total control, that his spree of death has spiralled, he has become complacent and, thus, vulnerable and one step towards the abyss.
For Harper, swap Erik ten Hag, Thomas Tuchel, Kaizer Chiefs, Manchester United, Sheffield United, most bowlers in the Indian Premier League (IPL) and, hey presto, the void of randomness is lurking all malevolent and wicked.
What to make of a manic, ferocious week of football and an IPL that has had more runs than the All Blacks in June 1995? From the sublime to the ridiculous to the humdrum. If there are more sixes than dot balls scored in an innings, and the Lucknow Super Giants can chase down 166 in 9.4 overs, it must be asked, as EspnCrinfo did, “How many sixes have to be hit before they lose their magic?”
“I grew up in an age when the six was somewhat a magical thing, an occasion, an act of daring — or desperation — and ultimate intent. Sixes left memories, and sometimes lasting scars,” wrote Sambit Bal.
For magical, read random. Matches at the IPL have morphed into patterns and order, where flat tracks and small grounds contrive to maximise the “oohs and aahs” count with the fans, and the overexcited jabbering of the commentators.
“The fear isn’t about T20 becoming a sport where batters start treating every ball as a free hit, or one where bowlers run for dear life. It can be argued that to a set of emerging fans, the contest between bat and bat will be as enthralling as that between bat and ball, though many of us may consider it a terminal upending of the game’s core appeal,” said Bal.
Watching the 2024 IPL is not like watching paint dry, it’s like watching paint being slapped on to cover up the cracks, of which there have been very few in these pitches. It is fast becoming the serial killer of cricket as we know it, as it wants to be, as it should be — a contest between bat and ball, a test of nerves and anxiety, a display of skill, nous and nuance.
Staying with cricket scores, Manchester United’s 4-0 pasting by Crystal Palace on Monday means they have conceded 55 goals this season. Last season they conceded 43. In 2021/22 it was 57. They are susceptible to the odd counterattack or five. Coventry City were, to use the words journalists always use for underdogs, feisty and brave against them in their FA Cup semifinal. City were 3-0 down in the 71st minute. Game over, surely?
Cue mania. Cue a 95thminute equaliser for City. Cue Ten Hag knowing that not even making the FA Cup final nor winning the thing will save his job. It was riveting, relentless and breathlessly random. No rhyme nor rhythm.
Switch to Dortmund against Kylian Mbappé and his fawning, falling, failing pals in the Champions League on Tuesday. Dortmund shut down Mbappé as staunchly as they had in the home leg. Dortmund played as a team. PSG played like MSG (Mbappé’s Sanguine Groupies). They could not unpick Dortmund, who won because they knew how weird sport can be.
Manchester United will, at least, make some money from the 2024 Champions League. They will receive a bonus of €4m due to the number of appearances Jadon Sancho has made for Dortmund on loan from United. That goes up now they have made the final against Real Madrid and will increase if they win the whole damn thing.
With two minutes of normal time, it was going to be an all-German final as Bayern Munich edged a game for the ages on Wednesday night. Then, mystical, magical Madrid got two from Joselu, once a shadow of a player at Stoke City and Newcastle in a galaxy far, far away. Manuel Neuer, the Bayern goalkeeper, somehow dropped the ball at Joselu’s feet for the first score. How did that happen?
“At what point, exactly, does the relentlessly unpredictable start to become oddly routine? As ever, this was an absolute nut show of a football match inside Real Madrid’s steamy Centre Court style megadrome,” wrote Barney Ronay of the Guardian.
They say time works differently in the Santiago Bernabéu. At their home ground, Madrid were timetravelling semi killers, creating randomness where there was order.