The elevation of Twenty20 from eccentric county cricket experiment to global phenomenon has been indecently swift.

Having been unleashed on the cricketing world as a crowd-pleasing sideshow in 2003 it is already a feature of every high-profile international tour, has its own World Cup, its own specialist protagonists and - in Sir Allen Stanford - its very own sugar daddy.

And it is the Texan businessman's millions which have paved the way for potentially the most exciting development of all: the Stanford Super Series.

The event consists of six matches in all, with West Indian Twenty20 kings Trinidad & Tobago joining their English counterparts Middlesex in a round-robin series against the ECB's chosen ones and the Stanford Superstars.

Things then take a turn for the frivolous with a legends' beach match before the headline event, the much-publicised winner-takes-all thrash which will see Kevin Pietersen or Shivnarine Chanderpaul collect a cheque for $20 million dollars (£11.25million) on behalf of their teams.

While there is plenty to be said for the earlier games - the presence of the T&T side represents Stanford's ongoing commitment to the regeneration of cricket in the West Indies and Middlesex's participation provides some welcome attention for a side of solid county professionals - the grand finale will dominate the build-up.

Indeed, as part of a tournament where the participants in the final are already decided before the opening match, it could be no other way.

The buzz around this unprecedented contest has been considerable, and unsurprisingly so.

It may seem crass, superficial or simply missing the point of competitive sport to say that a fistful of dollars ups the ante for those involved, but the pressure to secure what would be life-changing sums for team-mates is sure to be immense.

When Luke Wright earned England an ODI tie with New Zealand needing just seven runs to win from the final over earlier this year, it was correctly hailed as a feat of unusual poise and character.

Now imagine him doing the same when the accuracy, or otherwise, of his blockhole yorkers was the difference between making himself and his team-mates millionaires.

Similarly, conceive the pressure involved in gathering a steepling catch that could decide the destination of the biggest single bounty ever involved in a cricket match. Still think there is any such thing as a dolly?

There are some who believe the very concept is an anathema, pitted in direct contrast to the values which set cricket aside from other less cerebral pursuits. Their number includes West Indies great Michael Holding, a former member of the Stanford 20/20 board, who withdrew his support for the event, declaring: "I am not going to be involved in a farce."

And there is something in Holding's wariness of Stanford.

His row with West Indies sponsors Digicel, whose assertion that his 'all-stars' are the national team in all but name seems to carry a good share of logical weight, suggests that he has been allowed to buy an inside lane on the hitherto closed track of international cricket.

But business motives aside, there is something devilishly simple on offer for the average punter. Stump up a big pot of cash and let the best men win.

It can be little other than compelling viewing.

England, on the face of it, should take the purse. They are a side significantly ahead of their opponents in terms of development and in Kevin Pietersen and Andrew Flintoff they have players genetically disposed to excel in the rough and ready Twenty20 game.

But with home advantage - not to mention the ICC's current world player of the year, Chanderpaul, on board - they will fight hard for Stanford's promised riches.

Let the battle commence.