From Abba to zoozoos

A is for Abba, who could not be persuaded to come out of retirement to grace the opening ceremony. Instead we had Abba tribute band Bjorn Again, Jedi nurses, performers with fluorescent lights surgically embedded in them, and Ravi Shastri screaming like it was the end of the universe.

B is for blimp Aka the great nightclub in the sky, manned by a malevolent Dennis Lillee - if Danny Morrison is to be believed. But since Danny Morrison cannot be believed, we'll go with the versions of the other commentators: a hot-air balloon that is somehow at the forefront of technology. Clearly the IPL's finances are not the only things mysterious about it.

C is for captive audience. Yes, Margaret, there are ads in the middle of overs now.

D is for Double Ds. Or to the hopelessly square: the Delhi Daredevils. Blame that nice Mr Morrison again if this tournament has a PG-15 rating.
Also for: double interviews with the captains - before and after the toss.

E is for expensive Apparently you could buy IPL tickets for a couple to a Bangalore game for Rs 144,000, which got you seats in the VVIP lounge, first-class air tickets to the city, luxury car transfers, gourmet food, unlimited beverages, a stay in a five-star hotel, an invite to the after-party, and a spangly yellow Hello Kitty tiffin box to panhandle with for the rest of the year.

F is for fights Tharoor v Modi, Modi v Manohar, Sreesanth v good sense.

G is for Ganguly Cricket's friskiest pensioner has scored runs and chewed his team out and taken catches that no one who has seen him in his pomp, falling belatedly over at long-on after the ball had gone by, would credit him with. Will he not go gently into the sunset?

H is for humidity. Did you see Gautam Gambhir's party trick - looking down in his batting stance and letting about a litre of sweat drip down the visor of his helmet and onto the pitch? S Badrinath does a mean version too. If you're a fan of shiny, gleaming players, next year's tournament, to be played still later in the summer, will be a must-watch.

I is for insects, of which there were plenty. To think that they aren't even branded yet.

J is for Jackers. Where the L Sivas of the world plugged brands deafeningly, our Jackers slipped the references in tastefully, scoring points for restraint.

K is for KP, who found his feet in the IPL, and even dared upend traditional English wisdom by claiming the tournament was good for England players and that more of them should have figured in it.

L is for legcutters, as bowled by Harmeet Singh, the world's only bowler to run in from about long off to deliver at the rapacious speed of about 109kph, with great success.
Also for: Lalit, oh Lalit, what have you done?

M is for Mandira, whose gracious company viewers of ITV in the UK were privileged to have this year. At tournament's end, however, thanks to the no-fly over Europe, the good Ms Bedi had to delay her return to the UK (she broke for a quick India visit for her birthday) for the final leg. "I kept calling up airlines officials, but all my hopes turned to ashes," she quipped wittily.
Also for: moths; see I

N is for nights IPL Nights, to give them their full name; aka the after parties that it was compulsory for players to attend. Night after night, the models stalked, the cricketers sat around looking dazed, the owners of small-to-medium-sized businesses turned out in their tightest t-shirts.

O is for outrageous. Praful Patel's daughter sort of hijacked an Air India flight to ferry IPL passengers? Bribes to the tune of $80 million were paid for the acquisition of TV rights? Navjot Sidhu is alive and well and in the studio in a purple silk turban?

P is for Pollard, who's heeded the old adage and saved his best for last, starting slowly with eight-ball 20s and cranking it up to 13-ball 30s, catches, run-outs, the whole nine yards.
Also for: phones, ads for so many brands of which we've had shoved down our throats, there's a ringing in our chests from it.

Q is for quality of fielding. Rotten, mostly.

R is for Ravi Shastri, who evidently upped the ante when it came to the crunch, bit down on a tracer bullet, and ended up being voted best commentator in the viewers' choice segment of the IPL Awards.

S is for Spirit of Cricket, a painting that depicts a seemingly headless batsman on his knees with miniature players swarming over him, Lilliputians-on-Gulliver style. This work of art, though not as ugly as the IPL trophy, has filled in valiantly for that monstrosity this year, popping up at various points on our screens as the commentators extol its virtues. If you have any money left over after splurging on phones, you can even bid for it.

T is for Twitterati. First they chirped and cheeped. Then they pecked each other's eyes out and defecated on each other's heads.

U is for Uthappa, who is all ripped and pumped, and hit over two kilometres worth of sixes in the tournament.

V is for Vaasy. Ain't nobody bowl a last over like Vaasy do.

W is for What?! Among the entertainments on offer at the IPL Awards was Rahul Dravid and Sourav Ganguly dressing cheerleaders up in saris, as that witty bon vivant Shahrukh Khan provided commentary. Classy.

X is for the mystery men who have "tried to bring disrepute to the game" and who will duly be exposed by that fine, upstanding crusader Lalit Modi. Tomorrow-ish.

Y is for YouTube, where we could watch enthralled as live action unfolded before our very eyes... till the damn thing started to hiccup and buffer and throw a fit.

Z is for zoozoos. Little white critters that you want to smother with little white pillows.