Fortresses breached — IPL’s new normal is a step towards a level-playing field Premium

Davis Cup's home advantage, cricket's home turf edge, and IPL's changing dynamics highlight the importance of playing at home.

Back in the days when tennis’ Davis Cup was played exclusively on the home-and-away format right until the final, it was one of sport’s grander spectacles. The sheer energy and electricity of playing at home almost erased the gulf between nations and between players. Tennis history is replete with stirring deeds in the country vs country tournament; underdogs found a way to overcome players and teams they had no business competing with on even terms.

The host nation had the prerogative of choosing the surface and oftentimes, instead of plumping for one that might suit their strengths, they turned to the one that would trouble their more illustrious opponents the most. If both of these were in sync, nothing like it. That’s why in the days of John McEnroe, for instance, most European and Latin rivals opted for clay, the American’s least favourite and productive surface.

The choice of the playing surface, the support of vociferous fans who left nothing behind and the honour of playing for the country elevated Davis Cup face-offs to a wonderful art. One needn’t look too far for those who played well above themselves on that grandest of stages. Leander Paes has a 101-99 win-loss record in all ATP singles play, but in the Davis Cup, he holds a staggering 48-22 record. Among his much higher-ranked victims are Henri Leconte, Wayne Ferreira and Goran Ivanisevic.

Except perhaps the US Open, a rowdy and raucous event often referred to as the People’s Slam, tennis’ other three Grand Slam tournaments are marked by polite applause and strict adherence to spectator protocols, including not cheering or shouting during points and generally refraining from clapping for errors from their favourite player’s opponent. All such decorum used to be thrown out the window at Davis Cups, where home support was unabashed, unapologetic, uncompromising. Especially if the match was played indoors, the deafening applause threatened to blow the roof off. It was pulsating, goosebump-inducing, a visceral expression of backing and encouragement with little parallel.

The advantage of playing at home is also immense in football even though the playing surfaces are pretty much standardised. There was a reason why, until five years back, away goals counted for more in tournament play. Even though there was always a fair smattering of visiting fans, every stadium was inundated by home supporters, which made winning on alien territory that much more special, satisfying and significant. The added weightage to away goals was scrapped in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic when matches were played in front of empty stands and therefore there was no tangible home advantage. Perhaps now that we are back to the old normal in so many ways, it’s time to restore the sanctity and importance of the away goal?

Cricket is one of those sports where playing at home bestows a unique edge, especially in the longest format. Pitches are very country-specific. You know that when you go to Australia, there will be pace and bounce, that in New Zealand and South Africa, there will be seam and bounce. And, in the subcontinent, there will be turn. Uneven bounce. A slowness that home batters are used to but that put the visiting batters off their rhythm. Teams play to their strengths, as they should because otherwise cricket would become so boring, and increasingly, even strong outfits are struggling to make a statement on away turf (New Zealand’s 3-0 conquest of Rohit Sharma’s men in India last year, therefore, needs to be eulogised even more). It’s a shame that the International Cricket Council, which introduced the World Test Championship in 2019, gives no additional weight-age to away Test wins. Perhaps that will change from the next cycle.

You’d think playing at home doesn’t necessarily confer any additional edge in a format as frenetic and condensed as the 20-over version, where the singular objective (like in all formats, come to think of it) is to score one run more than the opponent. The popular perception is that fans throng the grounds to watch the ball fly into orbit, to scatter them in the stands, to threaten their limbs and other body parts. It’s a risk they are willing (happy?) to take. There is something very basal about the ball travelling long distances that appeals to the average modern-day cricket follower, though even they will concede that a low-scoring thriller provides as much value for money. T20 cricket, more than any other format, needs that balance between tall-scoring bat-fests and middling totals on less than perfect batting tracks that keep both teams in the hunt and the spectators on the edges of their seats. This edition of IPL 2025 has, almost accidentally, gone some distance towards conferring that balance.