Why 200 cricketers have become nocturnal

It’s 3am, and sleep is still a long way away. It’s not that I’m out at the bar having a drink – far from it. It’s halfway through the IPL, I’m sitting here in my room, watching some silly TV show, wondering how the hell my sleep cycle has come to this. And I’m not alone.

Over the past three weeks, like the other 200-odd players across the IPL, I’ve turned nocturnal. How does this happen?

It all starts with the first night game, finishing just before midnight. After the game, most players will eat dinner at the ground, share stories from the game, talk to the physio, ice aches and pains, get a debrief from the coach or owner, pack the kit bag, and then prepare to leave on the team bus for the hotel.

By the time the 300-plus police force along the route are coordinated, the misplaced keys for the car blocking our exit are found, the bulletproof armoured troop carrier is started, and the last stragglers out of the rooms are aboard the bus, it’s past 12.30am and we start rolling homewards.

Depending on the ground’s location, we could get back to the team hotel at 1am. Still no one has showered, there are 20 texts to reply to, six hours of twitter feed to read online, a few calls to make to family and friends, and a few opposition mates to catch up with.

There’s also an after party to attend in the team hotel, and while players are not obligated to go, they provide the best way to catch up with team-mates and opposition.

Sure, instead of going to an after party we could all just go to bed, but any cricketer who has played night cricket will tell you – it’s impossible to get to sleep after a game.

No cricketer has come up with an explanation as to why we can’t sleep, but I suspect part of it could be the Red Bull, coffee and cola that we consume during the game.

Years ago, scientists proved that caffeine improves athletic performance, and everyone I play with consumes way more than their fair share. In keeping with this, the cappuccino machines at the Chinnaswamy Stadium have been working overtime.

Before you know it, it’s 3am, the party has shut down, and you’re in your room with the TV on, pleading with the eyelids to close, but then … “Damn! The last round of the US Masters golf is on.” And as a sports lover, “How can I turn it off!?” Just when you start to get weary, it goes to a playoff. Bubba Watson ends up winning with one of the most amazing shots you will ever see in golf. Okay, time again to shut the system down and go to bed. I look outside, the sun’s up, it’s 6am and I haven’t slept.

Sleep finally arrives at 6.15am.

Despite this, I am one of the fortunate few, as I’ve managed to catch breakfast each morning for the past three weeks. Having two kids who operate a ‘normal’ sleep schedule has forced me to make the 11am breakfast cut-off each day. Only four or five others regularly make breakfast. The plight of the other 20 or so in my team is far worse. With every day, and each breakfast skipped, their sleep clock turns further towards the dark side, only to resume ‘normality’ many weeks after the IPL is finished.

This ‘nocturnalism’ comes about by players just wanting to be human. It first comes through players’ desires to unwind, meet old friends, and enjoy precious free time after a game – their work. It comes through players’ professional and emotional need to take time to mentally digest the game and reflect on their performance alone, even though this can often occur at 4am. It also comes through external forces, like the demanding nature of the IPL schedule, and completely pointless things like the global sporting TV schedule.

So the next time you read reports of players being up until 6am, or photos of players going ‘wild’ at parties, I’d suggest you take them with a pinch of salt. Most of us are just getting home from work, having dinner with friends and then going to bed. It’s just weird that our bedtime has changed to 6am in the morning.