Wednesday night at Spotless Stadium: Eoin Morgan's last ball six gives Sydney Thunder victory over the Melbourne Stars and brings the house down. New Year's night at the MCG and 70,000 defy indifferent weather for a local shoot-out. Two nights earlier, a sell-out at the Gabba brings the bloodthirsty feel of the colosseum as the Heat put the Hurricanes to the sword. Meanwhile, Chris Lynn and the Bash Brothers continue their national tour.
The Big Bash League is going gangbusters. The Adelaide Oval packs them in for Strikers' games. Perth's new stadium can't open soon enough for Scorchers' fans to be adequately accommodated. And down south, the Bellerive attendance-record keeps going up. One old codger points to this as another indication of how powerful a presence an AFL team in the island state would provide.
Right now, it's hard to see a flaw in the BBL's make-up beyond that in the two biggest cities there are two teams without obvious differentiation from each other. Still, 70,000 fans can't be giving a wrong or misleading answer, can they?
Yet, as with all surveys of public opinion, the correctness of the answer depends on precisely what the question is. If it's whether the Big Bash League – played over six weeks during the middle of summer – has become a big player in Australian sport, the answer, clearly and unambiguously, is "yes". If it's whether the BBL is now a vital component of Australian cricket's shop window and its economy, the affirmative answer is even less equivocal.
If, however, the question is as to whether the form of the game and the format of competition are entrenched in the public psyche to the point of permanency, the jury remains out. The same applies to the question as to whether this form of the game will ultimately be judged as having been good for the sport of cricket.
This is going to be a lengthy deliberation. Somewhere between 10 and 30 years I'd estimate, which brings no discomfort to the game's profiteers. With a bidding match looming for the next round of TV rights, the air is rich with the smell of money.
Remember, though, it took around 20 years for the concept of an annual, triangular One-Day International series to show clear signs of faltering. But falter it eventually did, and it happened before the even-more abbreviated game of Twenty20 gave it a final shove. Games that had once aroused national fervour somehow became meaningless.
Clearly, the BBL's fundamental elements are different and this makes the future of the format intriguing to ponder. The city-based franchise system provides a great strength as it offers an instant attachment of team to fan. Competitions like the BBL and soccer's A-League have been able to piggy-back off the development of the AFL without having to endure the growing pains involved in that competition's early development.
I have to say, though, I still find it difficult to see the day when each of Melbourne's Stars and Renegades achieve a level of discrete identification that causes fans to truly see them as their club. What – other than Eddie McGuire or James Brayshaw/Jason Dunstall – makes you want to barrack for (or against!) one in particular? Collingwood versus Essendon it's hard to see them becoming.
Not unrelated is the matter of which Australian players play for which franchise. When, as a rusted-on Hurricanes fan, I watched James Faulkner and Ben Hilfenhaus playing against the Tasmanian team, it felt wrong and it felt fake. Strikers fans no doubt feel the same when Shaun Tait grabs a wicket or two for the Hurricanes at the Adelaide Oval. I know we're inured to the draft and the trading of AFL players, but at least Chris Judd lived in Perth when he played for the Eagles. The sense of local representation in the BBL is artificial.
Then there are the question marks relating to the nature of T20. Will this modification of an established sport stand the test of time as a game in its own right?
Specifically, I'd pose the question in relation to the contest between bat and ball. T20 bowlers are often little more than lambs to the slaughter. To watch the Bash Brothers tear into the Hurricanes at the Gabba a week ago was exciting, but in the same way as seeing an old boxer torn apart by a hungry contender is exciting. There's something compelling about it but the enduring potential of that kind of mismatch is questionable.
Another reasonable query about T20 is the diminished currency of wickets. The most dramatic moments in the traditional form of cricket come when a wicket falls. The real excitement of the short-form lies in the big hitting, whether classical or crude. In keeping with the modern tendency to want to put a number on everything, the best shots are now determined by distance travelled. Will the excitement of this endure or is it a viewing pleasure that will fade with time?
Regardless of its lack of "purity", though, the short form is booming and in most countries in which cricket is played, the long form is losing crowds. There can't but be a connection. The idea that T20's popularity inevitably nourishes the traditional game is dubious. Administrators who genuinely care for the traditional game must surely find this an uncomfortable reality.
All the while, from cheap seats and armchairs, the jury will consider its verdict on the BBL while watching it over years to come. Their ultimate answer will provide a clearer idea about the factors which forge the bond that cause some teams, and the competitions in which they play, to go on being endlessly loved.