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By Sudeep Sonawane | Opening Doorz Editorial | January 23, 2026 Cricket has always trusted the eye before the instrument. The straight bat before the spreadsheet. Yet, somewhere between the […]
By Sudeep Sonawane | Opening Doorz Editorial | January 23, 2026
Cricket has always trusted the eye before the instrument. The straight bat before the spreadsheet. Yet, somewhere between the iron pitch roller and the bowling machine, the game began asking a different question - about method. In Maharashtra’s coaching lanes, that old argument is alive again: did cricket really need all this to produce greatness, or did greatness arrive despite it?
Every generation believes it has cracked the code, only for the next to arrive with a new gadget, graph, and vocabulary. This familiar debate resurfaces now in Maharashtra’s cricketing circles—pitting the reassuring simplicity of yesteryear against the blinking screens of modern coaching.
On one side are the evangelists of innovation, convinced that progress cannot be rolled back like an old pitch. On the other hand are those who swear by the methods that shaped India’s finest batsmen long before data analysts occupied dressing rooms.
Former India international Abhijit Kale, who runs the Stalwarts Cricket Academy in Kharadi, Pune, has little patience for nostalgia. For him, resistance to technology is resistance to reality.
“People used analogue phones in the past. Today, we use sleek digital cell phones. That is progress,” Kale says. “Cricket is no different. The 2000–05 era already looks ancient in 2026. I use bowling machines and other tools to train my students. Innovation, gadgets and updated processes are the way forward.”
Kale’s argument is simple: standards have risen, margins have shrunk, and preparation has become scientific. To coach today with yesterday’s methods, he believes, is to short-change young cricketers chasing modern demands.
Eighty-one-year-old Prakash Kelkar, former Mumbai Cricket Association committee member for over two decades, sees it differently. His memory stretches back to a time when coaching relied more on the eye than the algorithm.
“Vithal (Marshall) Patil, Anna Vaidya, Vasant Amladi, Luma Kenny and Ramakant Achrekar taught the basics—batting, bowling, fielding—without fancy tools,” Kelkar recalls. “Apart from a bat and a ball, the only equipment was a heavy iron pitch roller. The ball would be deflected off it for catching practice.”
Those methods, Kelkar points out, produced Ajit Wadekar, Dilip Sardesai, Ramakant Desai, Farokh Engineer, Sunil Gavaskar, Dilip Vengsarkar, Sandeep Patil, Ravi Shastri, Sanjay Manjrekar, Sachin Tendulkar and Vinod Kambli. Bamboo poles, jute nets and repetition did the rest.
Adding a sharper edge to this resistance, another old-school coach is more scathing. He claims many national, state, and franchise coaches have embraced what he calls “cosmetic innovation” less to improve players and more to justify inflated pay packets.
That sentiment finds cautious support from Mumbai-based Dronacharya awardee Dinesh Lad, mentor to Rohit Sharma and several first-class cricketers. Lad does not dismiss technology outright, but he is wary of excess.
“New-age gadgets may serve a specific purpose for a particular coach,” Lad says. “But many methods are cosmetic additions. Some coaches may be under pressure to justify their high salaries.”
Today’s coaching backdrop is crowded with bowling machines, plastic cones, ball spatulas, mats, fitness drills and data analysis software. Sessions resemble controlled laboratories, monitored and measured at every stage.
MCA Apex Council member and international ground curator Nadim Memon believes such a change was inevitable. “Compared to modern methods, the 1960s and 70s drills appear prehistoric,” he says. “Not just coaching, every department of the game has advanced. Cricket’s growth into a multi-million-dollar industry has ushered in these trends.”
Standing between the two camps is Jatin Paranjpe, former Mumbai Ranji player and chief coach of the Vasu Paranjpe Cricket Academies in Mumbai, Pune and Bangalore. His approach borrows from both worlds.
“I still teach old-school batting—left elbow upright, playing the ball in the V, correct foot movement, timing,” Paranjpe explains. “Alongside that, I use bowling machines and side-arm throw-down spatulas. Beyond tools, I guide and mentor under-12, 14 and 16 boys on strategy and temperament.”
For some, innovation has opened doors rather than closed traditions. Abhishek Jain, a paid side-arm specialist at the Paranjpe Academy, is a product of cricket’s evolving ecosystem.
“I realised my career as a player was going nowhere,” Jain says. “Innovation created employment. I got a break as a throw-down specialist and have worked with players from the current Indian team.”
Kale, predictably, has the final word. “Video analysis, biomechanics, fitness planning, nutrition and diet monitoring will help coaches produce better cricketers,” he says.
The debate, however, is unlikely to end. Cricket has always been shaped by argument—between instinct and instruction, feel and formula. Somewhere between the iron roller and the bowling machine, the next great Indian cricketer is still learning to play straight.
Cricket may dress itself in data and devices, but it still belongs to those who can see, feel and teach the game. Long after the graphs are archived and the gadgets replaced, the argument will remain the same. Between instinct and innovation, the game keeps searching—not for answers, but for balance.
Also Read:
Abhishek Jain, Side-Arm Specialist Powering India’s Fastest Net Sessions
Why Gautam Gambhir is Not the Coach India Needs
Women’s Cricket: The Man Who Stood When No One Watched
