Worried your children have been exposed to too much blood and gore on television? So is Harsha Bhogle. Concerned at the violence unfolding at the DY Patil ground in the final, courtesy Kieron Pollard, Harsha issued a warning. "Don't put your hand to it" he cautioned the bowler, Albie Morkel, as one flew past his head like the proverbial tracer bullet, "because this is a family channel... the ball would have taken the hand with it."
The interior decorator
Suresh Raina never saw a rug he liked, and this antipathy came to the fore in Chennai's second game against Kolkata, when he seized a fistful of Doug Bollinger's hair and pulled - ostensibly to express delight at the Dougster getting Sourav Ganguly lbw. Surely it was a cunning demo of the efficacy of Advanced Hair Studios, of whom Bolly is a satisfied client, instead? All this japery resulted in a brand-new celebration style in Chennai's next game, when upon taking a wicket Bollinger clutched his head like a sufferer in a migraine-pill advert, the better to guard against the predatory Raina. Oh, those jolly Super Kings.
The Fear Factor contender
The hunger to win? You don't know the half of it. Andrew Symonds swallowed a live moth in his delivery stride in the game against Punjab. He then turned around to the camera, flashed a thumbs-up and said, "Australian for pretzels". Well, maybe not that last part, but Michael Kasprowicz did wonder on commentary whether it tasted like vegemite. Oh, those jolly Australians.
The sincerest form of flattery
So Chennai have a drummer. Bangalore do, too. Only, he's about half the size of Sivamani, and his drums are about the size of tin cans in comparison. He does have a fetching Afro, though.
The crime against taste
Q: What are big, shiny and make you cover your eyes and weep? A: The sunglasses on the Punjab players. In one game alone, the Kings XI had these delights to offer: red lenses with white frames (as modelled by Yuvraj Singh), orange with white frames (Irfan Pathan), and the winner -purple with red frames (Piyush Chawla). Memo to Preity Zinta: approach Elton John for a possible buyout.
Honourable mention: Mumbai Indians' blue shoes with red laces.
The injury added to insult
That fiendish Rahul Dravid. As if denying Sachin Tendulkar a double-hundred six years ago wasn't bad enough, he had to go and stand his ground after Tendulkar caught him at slip in the semi-final, inflicting in the process a wound to his hand that needed five stitches.
The media awareness
Mahendra Singh Dhoni gave vent to his feelings after hitting two hefty sixes to seal the win against Punjab that put Chennai in the semi-finals. The Normally UnflappableTM Dhoni yelled what looked suspiciously like a bunch of family-unfriendly words and phrases - from what little could be seen, that is, since he took precautions to have his head down, so his helmet obscured his lips and the watching millions didn't faint in horror. Shall we call him Captain Canny then?
The pot v kettle contest
"...They are wearing some horrendous clothes," Mandira Bedi wrote of the cheerleaders in the tournament. That's telling 'em, sister.
So what if Ross Taylor didn't quite get going in this year's tournament. We'll always have the 65 he scored off 38 balls against Delhi in the Champions League last year. Literally so, considering how frequently, and inexplicably, highlights from that innings kept popping up on the telecasts of Bangalore games this season.
The refreshing change
For about half a minute before the third-place playoff, the pre-match presentation was incisive, witty, concise and quiet - when a couple of zoozoos were on as guests.
The memo about the perils of approaching Harbhajan Singh just after a match clearly didn't get to Nita Ambani, who was subjected to a vigorous hug and lifted clean off her feet, with Harbhajan's hands rather close to, er, the small of her back. The commentary informed us that there was only one person who'd have had the cheek. In more ways than one, then.
In the cheese-factory explosion that was the closing ceremony, one item stood out: a zillion-foot tall inflatable of a player - Tony Greig, perhaps; the resemblance was striking - being wheeled about at the base by a dozen-odd workers, and brought laboriously into contact with a suitably large ball. Cut to Lalit Modi in the expensive seats, looking on transfixed, in what looked like horror, before realising the cameras were on him and clapping vigorously.