Get Behind Me Satan (or should that be Satanta?)

I'm feeling it today, staying up into the early hours of the morning to watch the Calzaghe fight has taken it out of me, or was it the 12 pints I had before hand? Who knows, it will forever remain a mystery, which is exactly unlike the IPL, which has thrown off its invisibility cloak, declared itself 'the second coming' and spent the last few days sending crickets balls into outer space.

I've never seen so many sixes in such a short space of time, McCullum and Hussey responsible for the majority of them as they hooned their way to quick 100's. McCullum ending up on the highest ever individual score in a T20 match, not bad going I guess.

I sat and watched the Mumbai Indians yesterday, like the loyal follower of them that I am (for those of you who despise the IPL please don't hate me). This was until my Setanta displayed nothing but a blank screen, obviously deciding it didn't want to send me pictures all the way from India any more. In some ways it seemed a sign from the cricketing gods, a slap on the wrist for daring to feast my eyes upon the worlds biggest names all playing for pride, passion and...oh hold on a minute I meant to type 'massive wads' of cash. So instead I turned over to Sky Sports and watched the Durham/Yorkshire FP match, which as it turned out was pretty bloody good.

Sadly though you can see where the allure of the IPL would hurt the English county scene, especially for the young thrill seekers amongst us. I mean, in Mumbai there was a stadium packed to the rafters with 40,000 screaming fans, deliriously cheering on their respective team and world stars battling it out in the middle. In Durham water laden clouds hovered above a grey and empty ground, a smattering of fans clapped politely at well placed shots or good length balls. And its only saving grace? The cricket of course, two teams with good players and an exciting ending, one man nearly dropped his pie it alleged in a local paper the next day. But I for one felt better, glad in fact that Setanta had fled from the scene (or should that be screen?), it's head held shamefully in its hands as it thought about what it had done. And instead I had sat there and watched a good game of cricket with great players. The whole thing made me feel somewhat sanitised, I would even go as far to say county cricket had taken me from my mucky pit of filth, showered me with a delightful jasmine and spearmint foamy body wash, tousled my soft conditioned hair and sent me off with a smile on my face.

But then again, we all have our weak moments, and it is with a devilish smile on my face that I wonder how long it will be again before I am swimming in the murky and dark waters of the IPL?