After a tricky season of dwindling attendances, and fears that the golden goose of cricket had been struck down with a severe case of constipation, the T20 season ended with a finale to remind counties and cricket administrators that there is life in the old bird, yet. But until the suits who run domestic cricket wake up to innovation in the way that players, officials and brands like Mongoose are investing in the game, it could be doomed to fail.

All that is good about Twenty20 was shown by this year’s domestic T20 final day sponsored by Friend’s Provident. Two thrillingly tied semi-finals, requiring super overs to separate two teams locked together, and then a finish to the final which put into doubt Steve Waugh’s assertion that fairytales don’t happen in sport, as the Leicestershire captain, Paul Nixon, held aloft the trophy,  provided evidence T20 is a format capable of living up to its highfalutin billing.

But one finals day does not make a summer.  There has been a steady decline in year on year spectator numbers in the county game over the past three seasons, which suggests that the excitement with which we first greeted T20 has been by replaced by an apathy we’re more used to seeing with crowds in four day cricket.

Why aren’t spectators as turned on by county t20 cricket as they were in the past? We thought this was supposed to be the new Botham of allrounder formats.

The format of the domestic was designed to broaden cricket’s appeal, by luring the type of spectator through the turnstiles who wouldn’t be seen dead with an anorak, pencil case and immaculately kept scorebook at a blowy Grace Road during a championship game. It boasts floodlights, blaring music, flamboyant strokeplay, international stars, equipment innovations like bats that hit the ball to the stars, brightly coloured get-ups and a revved-up format of the game with fewer breaks in the DJ’s set. This we were led to believe is the glowing, pimple free face of county cricket.

So what happened? Can our concentration challenged kids not keep up with a miserly three hours of slogging?

Certainly the games themselves are more dramatic and generally unrecognizable from the genteel encounters of the Sunday League matches of the 70s and 80s. It’s hard to argue that changes to the format of short form cricket hasn’t improved the matches themselves.. Two ties in consecutive semi-finals matches can’t be considered a coincidence.

The skills on show have developed beyond all recognition too. The paddled slog sweep switch hit is the stuff of folklore a decade ago. Fielders flinging down a single stump in the style of Randall is commonplace now. Heady mixtures of yorkers, slower ball bouncers and away cutters are likely to be in the armory of any self-respecting county bowler. Wicket keepers with throwing arms as good as the cover point fielder goes to demonstrate that every discipline of the game has been slaved over.

And there have also been developments that even the most ardent advocates of the twenty over game wouldn’t have even dared to predict: spinners as the match-winning unit of any side; technology as a means to radically improve the quality and consistency of umpires throughout the game; the importance of shrewd and decisive captaincy, even in a game played at blink and you’ll miss it speeds.

On the face of it, T20 has a lot going for it. The players love it, and the clubs love what it provides. So why wouldn’t spectators still be infatuated by it?

Perhaps because the suits that run T20 have turned the matches into Groundhog Day. Where innovation has ruled on the pitch, the spectacle itself has as much life as a village fete.

Bugle fanfares repeated ad nauseum, and delivered to order. Cold, bored and laughably amateur dancers. “Tonight’s going be a good night” replayed over and over, game after game, year after year, until you get the feeling that tonight’s going to be the same as every other night. Firework displays with all the drama and appeal of a burning tyre.

We’ll leave the innovation to the gimps in pyjamas, while we line our pockets with the proceeds of lackluster repeats, think the money men.

While players and officials have become professional on the field, those who govern them have largely remained amateur in their approach. In the corporate world, a company that has hit upon a winning formula will recognise its valuable assets, and look to capitalize on them further with evolutionary development and relevant innovations. Not in professional cricket.

No wonder the format looks stale. No wonder spectators are cautious about spending time and their hard-earned on events that have the air of cynical money-spinners.

Until those who run the game adopt the spirit of twenty20, it will continue to lose its audience.  Regardless of what those on the pitch might do, as they did so spectacularly at the FPT20 Finals day.