Modi ke Acche Din

 

Lessons from the IPL Auction 2018

Suresh Menon in The Hindu




Both Neville Cardus and C.L.R. James asked whether cricket is an art, and answered in different ways. Cardus compared cricket to music while for James it belonged alongside theatre, opera and dance. Thus, art, yes, but the performing arts, and for what happens on the field.

It is now safe to say that cricket belongs to the visual and plastic arts — painting and sculpture — but not for what happens on the field. The IPL auction has added another dimension with the question: what is the value of a player? Is he like a Jeff Koons or an M.F. Hussain?

Is Jayadev Unadkat worth ₹11.5 crores? Is Hashim Amla not worth anything at all? The comparison with art is inevitable. A painting is worth exactly what someone is prepared to pay for it. In his book The Value of Art: Money, Power, Beauty, the art dealer Michael Findlay gives a more sophisticated explanation.

“The commercial value of art,” he says, “is based on collective intentionality. Human stipulation and declaration create and sustain the commercial value.” Replace “art” with “cricketer” and that still holds. If, based on sports metrics and private algorithms, Mumbai Indians think Krunal Pandya is worth ₹8.8 crores, you cannot argue.

On a weekend when every Test-playing country was engaged in an international, the focus was on a hotel ballroom in Bangalore. You can read all kinds of meaning into this. “It will be a distraction,” South Africa’s captain Faf du Plessis had said earlier. Kamlesh Nagarkoti, at the Under-19 World Cup in New Zealand said, “I went and sat inside the washroom even as my bidding was going on.” It went on and on and didn’t stop till it had reached ₹3.2 crores.

It was possible to switch channels between the auction and the incredible Indian performance at the Johannesburg Test. Virat Kohli certainly wasn’t distracted — his ₹17 crores was already in the bank. It would be interesting to discover which event garnered the more eyeballs; that should tell us the direction the sport is taking. In The Australian, Gideon Haigh wrote a piece headlined: IPL auction now the real centre of world cricket.

A union minister tweeted that most players didn’t deserve half the amounts they were bought for. Politicians are allergic to such transparent contract negotiations. However, what he and others find difficult to deal with is the fact that the market decides value. And the market can be cruel and ageist, often casually dispensing with high-performing players of the past. It is influenced by the ego of the bidder too. Monetary value is not always the same as cricketing worth.

Part of the confusion is caused by top players going unsold. In the recent Test, Amla and Ishant Sharma put in inspiring performances, yet find themselves with no role in the IPL. The way to reconcile this is to acknowledge that IPL and Test cricket are as different from each other — tactically, physically, psychologically, emotionally — as soccer and cricket or kabaddi and tennis. They just happen to use the same equipment.

It took the franchises some time to realise this. The inaugural auction had nothing to go by and established Test players were most sought after. Royal Challengers had Rahul Dravid, Jacques Kallis, Wasim Jaffer, Shivnarine Chanderpaul. Today they would have to depend on pity-selection by friends in the franchises, if at all. Cricket has changed, the IPL most of all, and auctions, even if not fully professional yet are headed in that direction. Data is king. How good are you between overs 11 and 16, for example?

On Ben Stokes - Do sportsmen have a responsibility to the sport?

Suresh Menon in The Hindu



One of the more amusing sights in cricket recently has been that of England trying desperately to work out a formula to simultaneously discipline Ben Stokes and retain him for the Ashes series. To be fair, such contortion is not unique. India once toured the West Indies with Navjot Singh Sidhu just after the player had been involved in a road rage case that led to a death.

Both times, the argument was one we hear politicians make all the time: Let the law takes its course. It is an abdication of responsibility by cricket boards fully aware of the obligation to uphold the image of the sport.

Cricketers, especially those who are talented, and therefore have been indulged, tend to enjoy what George Orwell has called the “benefit of the clergy”. Their star value is often a buffer against the kind of response others might have received. Given that the team leaves for Australia at the end of this month, it is unlikely that Stokes will tour anyway, yet the ECB’s reaction has been strange.

Neither Stokes nor Alex Hales, his partner at the brawl in Bristol which saw Stokes deliver what the police call ABH (Actual Bodily Harm), was dropped immediately from the squad. This is a pointer to the way cricket boards think.

An enquiry by the England and Wales Cricket Board (ECB) would not have taken more than a few hours. Given the cctv footage, the players’ own versions, and the testimony of the victims, it is unlikely that there could be any ambiguity about what happened. Yet the ECB has chosen to bring in its independent Cricket Discipline Commission only after the police have completed their inquiries.

Top sportsmen tend to be national heroes, unlike, say, top chartered accountants or geography teachers, and they have a responsibility to ensure they do not bring the sport into disrepute. It is a tough call, and not everybody agrees that your best all rounder should also be your most ideally-behaved human being. But that is the way it is. After all, sport is an artificial construct; rules around it might seem to be unrealistic too.

Stokes brought “the game into disrepute” — the reason Ian Botham and Andrew Flintoff were banned in the past — and he should not be in the team. The ECB’s response cannot be anything other than a ban. Yet, it is pussy-footing around the problem in the hope that there is a miracle. Perhaps the victims will not press charges. Perhaps the police might decide that the cctv images are inconclusive.

Clearly player behaviour is not the issue here. There are two other considerations. One was articulated by former Aussie captain Ian Chappell: Without Stokes, England stood no chance in the Ashes. The other, of equal if not greater concern to the ECB, is the impact of Stokes’s absence on sponsorship and advertising. Already the brewers Greene King has said it is withdrawing an advertisement featuring England players.

Scratch the surface on most moral issues, and you will hit the financial reasons that underlie them.

Stokes, it has been calculated, could lose up to two million pounds in endorsements, for “bringing the product into disrepute”, as written into the contracts. It will be interesting to see how the IPL deals with this — Stokes is the highest-paid foreign player in the tournament.

And yet — here is another sporting irony — there is the question of aggression itself. Stokes (like Botham and Flintoff and a host of others) accomplishes what he does on the field partly because of his fierce competitive nature and raw aggression.

Just as some players are intensely selfish, their selfishness being a reason for their success and therefore their team’s success, some players bring to the table sheer aggression.

Mike Atherton has suggested that Stokes should learn from Ricky Ponting who was constantly getting into trouble in bars early in his career. Ponting learnt to channelise that aggression and finished his career as one of the Aussie greats. A more recent example is David Warner, who paid for punching Joe Root in a bar some years ago, but seems to have settled down as both batsman and person.

Stokes will be missed at the Ashes. He has reduced England’s chances, even if Moeen Ali for one thinks that might not be the case.

Still, Stokes is only 26 and has many years to go. It is not too late to work on diverting all that aggression creatively. Doubtless he has been told this every time he has got into trouble. He is a rare talent, yet it would be a travesty if it all ended with a rap on the knuckles. England must live — however temporarily —without him.

The age of player power

Players, emboldened by free agency, agents and endorsements, are now asserting their rights as never before - and management doesn't like it

Rob Steen in Cricinfo

October 29, 2014

  

Michael Holding is among those who feel the West Indies players have been cast in the role of sinners in the latest saga © BCCI

Big hitter wanted. Must be comfortable handling money, schmoozing Australian media magnates, worshipping at the Church of Broadcasting on an hourly basis, maintaining an unholy trinity of power, changing course at the drop of a hat, staging events that lack context or go on too long, and treating the talent like worker ants (which of course they are). Imagination, a working set of principles and a capacity to think more than five minutes ahead nice but not essential. Cricketing experience would also be nice, but ex-professionals need not apply. Did we stress "no women" enough? All right then, NO WOMEN.

The "Positions Vacant" column at ICC Towers or BCCI HQ could never adopt that precise wording, of course. The sentiments, nonetheless, wouldn't be terribly different, not in essence. Perhaps the fondest and most self-deluding perception we cricket fanciers suffer from is the idea that, as a species, the game's administrators have the game at heart. Or anywhere remotely near it.

This is why a globally respected former player told me last week, after I'd urged him, for the good of the game, to put on his best suit and apply for his mandarin's licence, that he would just as soon buy a return flight to the sun, or even a lifetime's subscription to the Sun. This is also the fundamental reason why cricket in the Caribbean has just been dumped into what may well prove to be the deepest, muddiest, smelliest bogthis grand old game of ours has ever had the nose-holding, arm's-length displeasure to behold.

As Michael Holding related in his column for Wisden India, the roots of the duel between Dwayne Bravo et al and the West Indies Cricket Board lie in the latter's quest for revenge on the uppity West Indies Players' Association. And not over the shenanigans of Chris Gayle or Sunil Narine - or at least, not directly - but over the insistence that the board honour a pay rise to the players approved by its former CEO, Dr Ernest Hilaire.

To be fair, the CEO had been "conned" - as Holding put it - into sending the incriminating email by Dinanath Ramnarine, the former WIPA president and chief executive (indeed, Holding took a current WIPA official out for dinner and made no bones about his anger at such a shameless stunt). That, though, was scant consolation to Hilaire, or the WICB.

There can be little question, given its lamentable track record in player relations - a track record that has made the WIPA one of the most militant players' unions anywhere - that the WICB deserves public humiliation. And public humiliation can propel even the most intelligent and far-seeing fellows to the most asinine of reactions. Trouble is, when it comes to cricket officials - or, for that matter, officials of any sporting, showbiz or political creed - presumptions of intelligence and foresight may be unduly kind.

Holding, it should be added, has never been a rabid advocate of players' rights. That underlying ambivalence - towards the WICB as well as his on-field successors - has been easy to understand. To someone such as him, a Jamaican for whom playing for West Indies meant something more than representing a region, the ever-rising emphasis on financial reward can at times seem odious. When he was skittling all those England batsmen at The Oval in 1976, Holding will assure you, a win bonus or enhanced contract was an additional, minor incentive, not a cause. The revolution he was fighting, though, has been more or less won; now another needs winning.

That's why Holding has been unable to contain his fury, taking up cudgels on behalf of players who he feels (and not without extremely good reason) have been shat upon from a considerable height and cast, inevitably, as scapegoats. That the owner of the calmest, coolest, unshrillest voice in the menagerie we call the commentary box should feel compelled to raise it to such a pitch should not, cannot, be dismissed lightly.

That Bravo et al cannot even trust their own union rep, Wavell Hinds, ironically a long-time friend of Bravo's as well as a pal of Dave Cameron, the WICB president, emphasises how toxic things have got. Likewise Marlon Samuels' non-solidarity.

****

One of the under-appreciated benefits of the IPL is that it has empowered the players. Now, finally, the wealthy (and not undeserving) few have a shot at controlling their own destinies, free of club or board interference. This has also led down a bumpy road to a spooky place, a place where national teams, for so long the focus and pinnacle of attention, no longer call all the shots, where the highest levels of the game are merely the hors d'oeuvres, net practice for those whose appetites extend to all-you-can-eat feasts in Mumbai and Kolkata.

Nonetheless, amid all this frantic and often confusing relocation of the goalposts, Bravo and company were still willing to take a pay cut if it meant benefiting those labouring on the lower half of their greasy, treacherous pole. How many of us, in our own jobs, would do likewise? Granted, exceedingly few of us earn anything like as much as Bravo or Gayle (or even Jason Holder), but how many bankers or surgeons are queuing up to take a pay cut to help clerks or nurses? Generosity is generosity. For that, surely, these rebels warrant our admiration rather than opprobrium.

That the WICB appears so eager to paint a diametrically opposed picture testifies to its members' desperation to maintain control at any cost to credibility. Before the forceful Ramnarine resigned in 2012, the board refused point blank to deal with him. Garth Wattley summed up the board's approach to the WIPA as "a mixture of conciliation, intransigence, and more often of late, arrogance".

	That Michael Holding, the owner of the calmest, coolest voice in the menagerie we call the commentary box should feel compelled to raise it to such a pitch should not be dismissed lightly

Once upon a time, at the risk of tooting my own horn, I was party to a similar collective effort to aid less fortunate colleagues. When Robert Maxwell suddenly closed the London Daily News in 1987, after the bouncing Czech had lured scores of journalists from safe jobs to launch the paper just five months earlier, those of us who had been on board from the start voted to take a 50% cut in our severance pay. We decided on this course in order to ensure that the latest appointees, who had left their previous publications but had yet to report for duty at the LDN (of whom there were a fair number), could be compensated. It didn't help them enormously but I like to think they appreciated the gesture. On the other hand, I was single and childless at the time; I'm not at all sure I would have backed such a vote 20 years later.

But let's not get distracted. The bottom line could not be clearer. In the centuries-old struggle between management and players, across all major professional sports, the workers, emboldened by free agency, agents and endorsements, are now asserting their rights as never before - and management doesn't like it one eensy-weensy bit. Particularly not when it breeds season-shortening strikes (witness Major League Baseball in the mid-1990s), let alone season-nullifying strikes (witness the National Hockey League in 2004-05). The abrupt cessation of activities in an ODI series, barely a month after FICA, the international brotherhood, welcomed the signing of a collective bargaining agreement between the WICB and the WIPA, is merely another small landmark on the long, steep, rocky climb to respect.

Nothing proclaims the extent to which the tables have turned over the past half-century than a remarkable statistic from the winter of 2012-13: for the first time since Major League Baseball owners consented to salary and contract arbitration in 1974, not one of the 133 players took his claim as far as a hearing, the upshot of the clubs' increasing willingness to sign younger players to multi-year deals, affording even non-stars a degree of security. Unfortunately West Indies cricket is neither wallowing in record attendances nor benefitting from equitable revenue-sharing.

The funny thing about all this - as in funny-peculiar rather than funny-ha-ha - is that this latest downing of tools should happen in India, where resistance to players' unions, among the players themselves, has been fiercest. For all the vicissitudes of the BCCI, the fact that Sachin, Rahul and Anil never felt much, if any need, to form one says a great deal about their contracts, but must also say something at least faintly complimentary about N Srinivasan and his posse.

By the same token, the reality is unavoidable: without Indian support FICA will remain toothless. Fearless as the WIPA is, the day that MS Dhoni and/or Virat Kohli declare public solidarity with their brothers in charms is the day the WICB, Sri Lanka Cricket and their ilk start pondering the wisdom of their conniving and bullying. Only then will professional cricketers truly feel that the pendulum has swung as far as it needs to swing.

It takes two to tango, but it takes a lot more to stop a rot.

Dhoni's Revenge

By Girish Menon

As the brickbats from aficionados of Test cricket kept piling on the abject Indian cricket team at the Oval yesterday, I was pleasantly amused by Dhoni's comment at the press conference following the Indian surrender. He stated, as quoted on Cricinfo, "Don't be so jealous of IPL". It made me ponder if Dhoni and his teammates have affected their revenge in such a cold blooded and undetectable manner.

Australia and England along with purists and other conservatives in cricket have for the past so many years been shouting that India did not care for Test cricket. The ICC however predicted that the new power structure in the ICC would restore Test cricket to its halcyon days. And this five Test series with India would showcase the new superpower's commitment to the 'soporific' game. Yet, by ending the Oval and Old Trafford Tests in three days Dhoni's men have put paid to such plans.

Given India's quick and abject defeats in two consecutive series in England, which county chief will have the gumption to bid   to host India's next Test match. The ECB have been running an auction and handing out Tests to the highest bidder. County grounds like the Oval hoped to attract the 'brown pound' in order to make a profit. With India's capitulation I doubt if future visits by the Indian team will attract the demand that we have seen recently.

The counties may hope to attract the 'white pound' to compensate for the Indian diaspora's absence. But cricket as a sport is dwindling in popularity as the coffers of most counties will reveal.

Indian advertisers might also be mad at the team's performances as the 'brown eyeballs' would be switching channels to avoid the shambles put up by Dhoni's men. They may henceforth demand the negation of 'home advantage' and creation of pitches that suit Dhoni's men. Thus match fixing, frowned upon by the ICC, may make a re-entry in the form of scripted matches all in the name of entertainment.

In the process, Dhoni's men would have wreaked sweet revenge not only on the lovers of Test cricket and the ICC but also on Andersen. For after all, what will his record as England's highest wicket taker be worth, if Test cricket is dead and the only records worth mentioning are set in the IPL?

Burn the orchard,re-grow cricket

P Sainath in The Hindu

Getting Mr. Srinivasan to walk the plank is desirable, but won’t rescue Indian cricket. Scrap the BCCI, whole hog, and start over

Isn’t it reassuring to learn how many men of character the Board of Control for Cricket in India has? With the secretary and the treasurer resigning their posts, joined by the IPL chairman as well, and more lining up to quit on noble principle? Conscience crawls out of the mothballs by the hour.

The BCCI-Indian Premier League would love to retain what they have — minus N. Srinivasan. They’re working on an “exit formula” to toss their much reviled chief overboard. We can then witness a withdrawal of resignations amidst a celebration of principle and probity. While getting Mr. Srinivasan to walk the plank is desirable, it won’t cleanse the BCCI, the IPL, or cricket.

So now we know it wasn’t a few bad apples but a whole rotten orchard. The “just three cricketers,” defence was always dishonest. The rot engulfs the entire edifice of the IPL and the BCCI. The media have a ball-by-ball commentary going on this sordid Reality show: The Hunt for Srini’s Scalp. It’s entertaining too, with even an element of suspense. You never know who the next man in will be, with players in this game switching teams on field. And then there’s Sharad Pawar sending down googlies to himself on the sidelines. Yesterday’s Srinivasan loyalists could be the spearhead of today’s attack on him. Sanjay Jagdale, Ajay Shirke and Rajiv Shukla— who’ve just quit their BCCI posts — seem to be warming up for a bowl.

That Mr. Srinivasan should not head the BCCI (or anything involving the public interest) was apparent years ago. That is, to anyone whose perception was not modified by lucrative contracts with, or advertising revenue from, the BCCI-IPL. However, it’s crazy to believe his exit will set everything right. He will be replaced by his own recent collaborators. The kind who helped reduce a national passion to a hyper-commercial freak show. Take a bow, Pawar saheb.

The BCCI-IPL have faced serious charges for a while. For instance, from the Enforcement Directorate. Ensconced in London, the IPL’s founder is a fugitive from justice. Then came this BCCI chief whose conflict of interest was made ‘legal’ by changing the body’s rules. (Take another bow, Pawar saheb). Mr. Srinivasan owning an IPL team while heading the BCCI only now gets the attention it demanded years ago. As for Mr. Pawar, his notable achievement in UPA-I was to rack up more frequent flier miles on overseas travel in the name of Indian cricket than for agriculture.

This April, an irate Bombay High Court told the IPL crowd to pay up the amount they owed the Maharashtra police for security provided during their matches. The dues, the government of Maharashtra said, were “around Rs. 9 crore. The Bench also said the law permits government to attach the properties of the defaulters.

Forget the dues, the IPL earlier made money from the state. It got over Rs. 20 crore in entertainment tax waivers from the government of Maharashtra, the gains going to Mukesh Ambani, Vijay Mallya, Shah Rukh Khan and others in need. Until an outraged Bombay High Court ordered recovery of that money. Meanwhile, state-owned stadia are still given out to the BCCI-IPL at throwaway rates.

What does one do with the BCCI?

Dissolve it. Scrap the BCCI and start afresh. Have a public audit of this body’s activities over the past decade. The BCCI is characterised by its contempt for the public interest. By the impunity it could act with, confident of its power, corporate, political and media. Start over. Build and launch a body that is transparent and accountable. A body that runs the Indian team must be accountable to the public and the country in whose name it acts.

The IPL isn’t just about spot-fixing or betting. It is about the hyper-commercialization of a beautiful game to a point where it destroys the soul of that sport. It’s about structured sleaze and a corrupting culture. Every dodgy defence of the IPL holds aloft that catch-all excuse: commercial success. This, in their eyes, outweighs its “few flaws.” Yet, the cloud that the Sreesanths and Meiyappans have come under is no aberration. It is the standard product of such a system.

It isn’t just the BCCI brass who have suddenly spotted disaster. Take the dominant media that daily celebrates its latest exclusives on the scandals. The same media lionized the IPL, season after season. Whose pundits, with a few honourable exceptions, stuck to the defence and promotion of the IPL culture.

They even briefly went with the franchisees’ claim: “Our security was so tight, owners could not enter the dugouts. Bookies had no chance of being there.” They didn’t need to be. The paid-entry late-night parties were a cosy access zone for fixers, bookies and worse.

Sure, the media’s pressure at this point is a very good thing. But almost every exposé of fixing, betting or dubious deals has come from official agencies. From the Delhi and Mumbai police, from the Enforcement Directorate. Any good stories that came out of journalistic investigation before that were quickly brushed aside by a media revelling in the IPL culture. TV channels had many panellists — including legendary cricketers — extolling the glories of the IPL while being on its payroll. There were even former players accused in earlier fixing scandals. But the advertisers and sponsors till now delighted with this con-job, today worry that the “brand equity of the IPL has taken a beating.”

Well, Indian cricket has taken a worse beating.

The media helped build a make-believe world that allowed no serious critique of the IPL. Any criticism was met by: “Don’t let’s hurt cricket just because of a few small problems here.” Such words falsely conflate the interests of the IPL with those of Indian cricket. Their interests are worlds apart.

What has been the IPL’s contribution to Indian cricket?

It changed the axis, orientation, content and soul of Indian cricket. It privatised a national passion, promoted a corrupting commerce. The game is now “owned” by companies, corporate sharks and their political patrons, film stars, advertisers and sponsors. No longer by the cricketing public.

The domestic circuit that was the feeder system for India’s international teams is hurting. The Indian greats came up through it. But now it is the feeder for the IPL. Why play in the Ranji Trophy (except to get noticed by the recruiters) when you can make millions playing sub-standard cricket in the League? The IPL has not contributed a single great player to Indian cricket.

The “few rotten apples” line was always a fraud. And we need to do what orchardists do on rare occasions. Burn the orchard and plant for fresh growth. Scrap the BCCI and start over. Re-grow cricket.

Sticking with those analogies, what happens to the waste you have to get rid of? The net is full of websites running advice on that. The United States Environmental Protection Agency has some suggestions, for instance. Including “burning, chipping, shredding, grinding, composting or use as hog fuel.” Isn’t that tempting?

The serpent in the garden

The IPL is representative of the worst sides of Indian capitalism and Indian society

Ramachandra Guha

June 1, 2013

I detest wearing a tie, and do so only when forced. One such occasion was a formal dinner at All Souls College, Oxford, where opposite me was an Israeli scholar who had just got a job at the University, and was extremely anxious to show how well he knew its ways and mores. He dropped some names, and spoke of his familiarity with the manuscripts collection at "Bodley" (the Bodleian Library). In between his boasts he kept scrutinising my tie. Then, when he could contain his curiosity no more, he walked across the table, took my tie in his hand, looked at it ever more closely, and asked: "Is this Magdalene?"

I did not answer. How could I? For the tie signalled not membership of a great old Oxford College, but of a rather more obscure institution, the Friends Union Cricket Club in Bangalore. I joined the club in 1963, aged five, because my uncle, a legendary one-handed cricketer named N Duraiswamy, played for it. I would go along with him for practice, stand by the side of the net, and at the end of the day be allowed to bowl a few balls from 12 yards or thereabouts. By the time I was ten I was helping lay the mat and nail it to the ground. When I reached my teens I was bowling from where everyone else did.

As a boy and young man, I was an episodic member of the Friends Union Cricket Club. In those years I was based in North India, and came south for my summer and winter holidays. In 1994 I moved to Bangalore for good. In the past two decades, I have watched FUCC win the First Division Championship three times, and seen a series of young players graduate from club cricket to representing the state in the Ranji Trophy. My club has produced two India internationals and at least fifteen Karnataka players, all of whom I have known personally and/or watched play.

Largely because of Duraiswami - who has been captain or manager for forty years now - FUCC enjoys a reputation that is high both in cricketing and ethical terms. No cricketer of the club has ever tried to use influence to gain state selection. Where other clubs sometimes adjust games to make sure they do not get relegated, FUCC does not resort to this. FUCC cricketers do not come late for practice, and never abuse the umpire. And they play some terrific cricket too.

FUCC was one of a dozen clubs that provided the spine of Karnataka cricket. The others included Jawahars, Crescents, BUCC, Swastic, Bangalore Cricketers, and City Cricketers. The men who ran those clubs were likewise personally honest as well as fantastically knowledgeable about the game. The cricketers they produced won Karnataka six Ranji Trophy titles, and won India many Tests and one-day internationals too.

This year I mark the 50th anniversary of my membership of the Friends Union Cricket Club. In this time, FUCC has commanded my primary cricketing loyalty; followed by my state, Karnataka, and only then by India. Six years ago, however, a new club and a new format entered my city and my life. I was faced with a complicated decision - should I now add a fresh allegiance, to the Royal Challengers Bangalore?

I decided I would not, mostly because I disliked the promoter. In cricketing terms, Vijay Mallya was the Other of Duraiswami. He had never played cricket, nor watched much cricket either. He had no knowledge of its techniques or its history. He had come into the sport on a massive ego trip, to partake of the glamour and celebrity he saw associated with it. He would buy his way into Indian cricket. And so he did.

It was principally because Mallya was so lacking in the dedicated selflessness of the cricketing coaches and managers I knew, that I decided the RCB would not be my team. So, although I am a member of the Karnataka State Cricket Association and have free entry into its grounds, I continued to reserve that privilege for Ranji Trophy and Test matches alone.

The KSCA Stadium is named for its former president, M Chinnaswamy, who was one of Duraiswami's heroes. When I was growing up, Durai would tell me of how Chinnaswamy supervised the building of the stadium, brick by brick. This great lover of cricket abandoned his lucrative law practice for months on end, monitoring the design, the procurement of materials, and the construction, with no cost over-runs and absolutely no commissions either.

	The behaviour of Messrs Lalit Modi and N Srinivasan cannot shock or surprise me, but I have been distressed at the way in which some respected cricket commmentators have become apologists for the IPL and its management

In other ways too Chinnaswamy was exemplary. Never, in all the years he served the KSCA, did he try to manipulate a single selection. Later, when he became president of the BCCI, he met the challenge of Kerry Packer by increasing the fees per Test match tenfold. It was while he ran Indian cricket that our players were for the first time treated with dignity and paid a decent wage.

I wonder what Chinnaswamy would have made of his grasping, greedy, successors as presidents of BCCI. I wonder, too, what he would have made of a man who can't pay his own employees having a free run of the stadium that Chinnaswamy so lovingly built. This past April, the Bengaluru edition of the Hindu carried a front-page story on an summons that the Special Court for Economic Offences had issued to Mallya, who owed the Income Tax Department some Rs75 crores, or about $13.3 million, which he had not paid despite repeated reminders. The police, often waiving the rules for the powerful, told the court that they were too busy to execute the summons.

But let me not single out Mallya here. The truth is that almost all the owners of IPL teams (seven out of nine, by one estimate) are being investigated by one government agency or another, in one country or another, for economic offences of one kind or another. Since this is a shady operation run by shady characters, Indian companies known for their professionalism, entrepreneurial innovation, and technical excellence have stayed away from the IPL altogether. Here is a question for those who still think the tournament is worth defending - why is it that companies like the Tatas, the Mahindras, or Infosys have not promoted an IPL team? (Editor's note - Tata Consultancy Services sponsor Rajasthan Royals.)

To this writer, that the IPL was corrupt from top to bottom (and side to side) was clear from the start - which is why I have never exercised my right of free entry for its matches in Bengaluru. But as I watched the tournament unfold, I saw also that it was deeply divisive in a sociological sense. It was a tamasha for the rich and upwardly mobile living in the cities of southern and western India. Rural and small town India were largely left out, as were the most populous states. That Uttar Pradesh and Madhya Pradesh, both of whom have excellent Ranji Trophy records, had no IPL team between them, while Maharashtra had two, was symptomatic of the tournament's identification with the powerful and the moneyed. The entire structure of the IPL was a denial of the rights of equal citizenship that a truly "national" game should promote.

The IPL is representative of the worst sides of Indian capitalism and Indian society. Corrupt and cronyist, it has also promoted chamchagiri and compliance. The behaviour of Messrs Lalit Modi and N Srinivasan cannot shock or surprise me, but I have been distressed at the way in which some respected cricket commmentators have become apologists for the IPL and its management. Theirs is a betrayal that has wounded the image of cricket in India, and beyond. George Orwell once said: "A writer should never be a loyal member of a political party." Likewise, for his credibility and even his sanity, a cricket writer/commentator should keep a safe distance from those who run the game in his country.

What is to be done now? The vested interests are asking for such token measures as the legalisation of betting and the resignation of the odd official. In truth, far more radical steps are called for. The IPL should be disbanded. The Syed Mushtaq Ali Trophy, played between state sides, should be upgraded, making it the flagship Twenty20 tournament in the country. Then the clubs and state associations that have run our domestic game reasonably well for the past 80 years would be given back their authority, and the crooks and the moneybags turfed out altogether.

Even now, in every city and town in India, there are selfless cricket coaches and administrators active, nurturing young talent, supervising matches and leagues. The way to save Indian cricket is to allow these modern-day equivalents of Duraiswami and M Chinnaswamy to take charge once more.

Cricket - Playing on a rotten wicket

by Bishan Singh Bedi

The Indian Premier League is rotten to the core. But let’s be clear that the rot did not set in yesterday. It has been this way since its inception. The first, almost self-anointed, chairman of the governing council of the IPL, Lalit Modi, has been on the run for reasons best known to the present BCCI president. And the less said about his successor, the better.

Whoever thought these two gentlemen were fit to head IPL ought to be hauled up for all its ills. Equally, anybody associated with IPL, in whatever capacity, is party to the malaise that wraps itself around it.

My life’s experience also tells me that all undeserving holders of high profile offices often meet the end they deserve. But who has been the biggest loser all along? Cricket, of course. And is anybody bothered really? I could have died a million deaths the other day when my wife asked me: “Aren't you ashamed of yourself as a cricketer?” Mind you she’s not a cricket buff at all, but her observation was piercing enough. My misfortune is that I am still alive to face the barrage of questions from others, but there is little I can do to prevent them.

I’m not ashamed to have been a cricketer; but I am ashamed to have my background linked to the present in which cricket has been turned into a religion without any spiritual ethics.

“No punishment would be big enough for ‘dirty/greedy’ cricketers,” the BCCI boss thundered from Kodaikanal. My humble query is this: who created the ‘dirt’ and ‘greed’ in the first place? Surely, the cricketers could not have discovered the ‘dirt’ and the ‘greed’ on their own. So if the cricketers fell prey to an organised brand of avarice, do we really blame them or the IPL and its widespread net of sleaze money?

Not for a moment do I wish to condone the action of the cricketers who have been nabbed. But is this the first instance of crime in cricket IPL-style, and will it be the last?

IPL bares the soullessness of some of the giants of Indian cricket who cannot stop raving about it. It is nauseating to observe, day in day out, India’s former greats competing with each other to outsmart the cricketing dictionary.

“Do you watch IPL?” I've been asked this question often enough. Yes, I do, on TV. Not because I want to, but mustn’t I know what the hell is going on around me in the name of cricket? Sadly, what I see makes for a revolting spectacle that begs a question: why do we not say “this is not cricket?” We never use any other sport to describe the ‘dignity, honesty, uprightness and integrity’ of a human activity better than cricket. But what is provided by the IPL, and highlighted brazenly by the Indian giants, is nothing but a crass cacophony of sycophancy — each trying to outdo the other to impress the bosses who obviously seem to enjoy it no end.

Yes, we see huge crowds in stadia, but I am convinced only a few come to see the cricket. For the rest, it’s just a chance to be part of the din and, and perhaps be caught by television cameras, even if only for a split second.

Am I surprised that the most influential, arrogant and haughty sports official in the history of Indian sport — its present President — has been reduced to an object of mockery?  Here is a man blinded by his own monumental craving for insatiable authority. He is not prone to tolerating any opposition and the entire BCCI is shamelessly familiar with his clout. And now, all these cronies are dumbfounded. They are buying time so that the sixth edition of the IPL can be confined to the corrupted cupboards.

Finally, BCCI is not IPL, but IPL is BCCI.  Youngsters jumping on the IPL bandwagon may do so, at their own peril. I am up to my neck listening to ‘experts’ about how IPL has helped youngsters gain cricket knowledge by sharing dressing rooms with the crème de la crème of the cricketing world.

I am also constrained to remark that the Indian media is sadly running with the hare and hunting with the hounds. It doesn’t quite add up, if you ask me.

What will the BCCI do with all this Power?

Ed Smith

All empires lose power. But their achievements - and their sins - long survive them. The judgement of history will not celebrate the gaining power, or even clinging on to it, but the manner in which power was exercised.

For Indian cricket, that is now the only question that matters. Everything else follows from that central debate. No one doubts that India is now cricket's preeminent power. Money will continue to pour in, sometimes faster, sometimes slower. Contracts will come and go. Alliances with other cricket boards will form and then dissolve. These things will matter a great deal in the short term, little over the long term.

Because the big picture is settled: India is the country everyone wants to tour; India has the IPL; India is the country with the biggest markets and revenues; India has the loudest voice and the deepest pockets. India cannot quite do whatever it pleases, but it has far more autonomy and power than any other nation.

But what will India do with all this power? That is the issue. What is its vision for the world game? Has it even thought about it? Or has the thrilling accumulation of power been all-consuming? Has it acknowledged the responsibilities that follow?

Recent evidence suggests not. Consider its attitude to the future of Test cricket. The BCCI talks a good game about safeguarding the most precious form of the sport, but has done very little about it. Indian cricket has long endured the fact that the showpiece events of the Test match calendar, such as the Boxing Day Test, have been scheduled to suit other cultures. But nothing is now stopping India organising a home Test schedule that will attract the most local attention and the biggest crowds. If India wants to make every home Test match a major event, how about creating a bespoke Test match calendar - the right venue on the right date - to coincide with the prospect of drawing decent crowds?

The BCCI has been perfectly happy to block out international cricket during the IPL window. How about blocking in some high-profile Test matches, organised around Indian holidays, with the same kind of precision and determination? Test cricket needs help. The BCCI can provide it.

India has long aspired to leadership of the world game. But it should aspire to provide not only new leadership but better leadership. It is often said that England ruled international cricket for too long and with too much introspection. The first three World Cups were all hosted by England. Why was London the seat of cricketing power? The simple answer, I suppose, is because it always had been.

That is why I have long argued that there are some very good reasons for the game's axis of power to move to India. India has vastly more cricket fans than the rest of the world added up together. Democracy, in a way, has trumped history.

But do many people doubt, that for all their conservatism, the grey-haired Englishmen who once ran cricket did so largely for the right reasons, in the right spirit, in the hope that they were acting as custodians of the game? Does the same apply to the moneymen who drive decisions today?

All sports have an uneasy relationship with money. And, of course, entrepreneurs and marketeers have their role in the development of sport. But sports are never only businesses, especially not cricket. The game is manifestly very different from the more market-driven American model. American sports always follow the same pattern: the matches nearly always happen in America, and this product is sold around the world. So while global markets may evolve, the identity and flavour of the sport remains essentially American.

Cricket is different. It is a world game that serves many different constituencies. The dictates of the market cannot be allowed to determine who survives or dies. If international cricket consisted of franchises competing in a free market, Pakistan - let alone Zimbabwe and Bangladesh - would have folded and gone bust long ago. But cricket needs its precious breadth and diversity. So it must nurture the weak as well as the strong.

	All sports have an uneasy relationship with money, but sports are never only businesses, especially not cricket

World cricket is not just a business. It is an organic being. The well-being of the whole influences the health of every aspect. That is why the leadership of world cricket is more like the stewardship of a trust than a straightforward business. India has a wonderful opportunity to show how well it can serve and administer a precious world enterprise.

International sport has a huge role in shaping a nation's global reputation. India should think carefully about the signals it sends when the BCCI makes sudden demands on broadcasters. For many people around the world, cricket is the only prism through which they see India. First impressions count.

Just think of the kudos New Zealand gains through the achievements and culture of All Black rugby. A nation of three million people produces not only the best team but a sporting dynasty that is an example to the rest of the world. The All Blacks do not trifle with their traditions and responsibilities. Even without the equivalent power exercised by Indian cricket, New Zealand's rugby punches far above its weight - in terms of victories and reputation.

I write as someone who loves India and Indian cricket. The piece of advice that most changed my cricket career came from Rahul Dravid. "Go to India," he said, "bat there, but also just spend time there." I flew myself to India several times in my early 20s and did just that. My exposure to Indian cricket and culture ranks as one of the most formative and valuable experiences of my life.

That was one of the reasons, when my father became seriously ill seven years ago, that I took him to India in the weeks preceding his operation. I knew he would be inspired and revived by the experience. One day we walked around the well-preserved Fatehpur Sikri, the city built by Emperor Akbar in the 16th century. We stood in the courts of justice, we read about Akbar's policy of religious tolerance and his system of fairer taxation. We heard the story of Elizabeth I dispatching an envoy to express England's admiration.

Fatehpur Sikri was the seat of power for only 14 years. Its legacy? Elegance, tolerance and, briefly, an example to the rest of the world.

What will be the legacy of the BCCI's period as the most powerful court in world cricket? They should start thinking about that now. Power can fade as quickly as it arrives.

The case for flexibility in the Pietersen saga

Sambit Bal in Cricinfo

Watching Test cricket live always makes me happy, and Lord's, where affection for Test cricket wafts through like a gentle fragrance, is always a treat. But though the cricket has been thoroughly absorbing, it has been hard to shake off a sense of sadness. The value of cricket diminishes when the best players are not on stage, and though England can win without Kevin Pietersen, cricket is undoubtedly poorer without him.

Poignantly, Jonny Bairstow, the man who took Pietersen's place in the team, provided the most compelling individual story of the match, passing a searing examination that tested not only his skills but also his character. As he battled though, fighting nerves, and a hostile reception from two of the quickest bowlers in the world, and his innings grew, what was on some people's minds became almost audible: Good riddance, KP.

Of course, it is never as simple as that. Life without Pietersen might be easier, but can it be better? Or can it even be as good? The last week was an extraordinary one for English cricket, but that is the question the administrators and selectors must ponder as they contemplate the future beyond this series. Pietersen polarises opinion, but there are no blacks and whites in this case: the challenge is to find the right shade of grey.

Unity and stability are two words that have been used a lot in the last few days to justify Pietersen's removal for the deciding Test of the series. The truth is that all success stories create their own buzzwords, and all buzzwords are somewhat exaggerated. England became the No. 1 Test team mainly because they managed to put together a bowling attack that was perfect in their conditions, and because their batsmen prospered not only at home but also in Australia.

Unity and stability weren't of much use when their technique fell to pieces on turners in the subcontinent, and it was only a masterly innings from Pietersen that helped them draw level against Sri Lanka. Every team must aspire to having a healthy dressing room, for it can create an environment for achieving and savouring success in, but skills are much the greater pre-requisite. Success can be achieved without unity and stability but rarely without skills. Occasionally a team might punch above its weight with perseverance and spirit, as New Zealand have sometimes done, but rarely does a team achieve sustained excellence, let alone greatness, with those qualities alone.

I had the opportunity to have a long chat with Michael Holding, who rarely equivocates, last week, and without going into details it can be recorded that the dressing rooms of the great West Indian teams of the '70s and 80's were far from being oases of harmony. "We did," Holding said, "what was needed to win Test matches." Everyone knows those were teams that burst with greatness.

"Australianism" became the catchphrase for success when Australian teams built their aura of invincibility, but behind their very public mateyness was a team of strong individuals who didn't pretend to be friends once they stepped off the field. Shane Warne was quick to sympathise with Pietersen because he lived through his differences with his team-mates - and much more publicly, with his coach.

As long as Australia's reign lasted, the Australian method continued to be regarded as the template for breeding and sustaining excellence. The Australian system was hailed for creating tough, battle-ready cricketers, and the egalitarianism of Australian society was credited for instilling in them confidence and a reluctance to defer to those who ought to have been regarded as superior. And for years, as England's cricket team wallowed in misery, the English system was condemned as wretched and outdated.

But back-to-back Ashes defeats prompted the now-famous Argus review, which found that not all was well with the system. In fact, some of the recommendations mirrored those of the Schofield report, commissioned by the England board in 2007.

The point is that success creates its own stories, and over-analysing success can give birth to theories that somewhat obscure the simplest truths. Of course, individuals should never be greater than the team, but by the same measure it should never be forgotten that individuals make the team. It is true that a great player alone cannot make a great team, but the bigger truth is that there has never been a great team without great players.

The trouble with great players is that they often happen to be difficult characters. Some are narcissists, with an exaggerated sense of self-importance and entitlement. They can be highly strung and intense. Their single-minded drive towards excellence can make them insular and selfish. Because the game comes easy to many of them, they may be truant at practice. And because the money tends to chase them, they may be led to believe that they deserve even more of it than they get. They can present as much of a challenge to their own team off the field as they do to their opponents on it.

Good teams find ways to manage them. It starts with the recognition that special players often need special care, even if that means bending the rules, for at their best they can provide something so powerful and so breathtaking that it can transcend the team. A lot has been said about Pietersen's ego, but it is the need for that ego that powers him: it drives him to impose himself on a situation rather than submit to it; it allows him create his own reality-distortion field to bludgeon a hundred when lesser players would have fought for mere survival.

	Good teams recognise that special players often need special care, even if that means bending the rules, for at their best they can provide something so powerful and so breathtaking that it can transcend the team

In his last five Tests he has twice done what none of his team-mates would have had the daring, imagination and skill to even attempt. His hundred in Colombo came on the back of a spirit-destroying run of defeats and allowed England to return from Sri Lanka with their dignity salvaged. And without his hundred at Headingley, England would perhaps have come to Lord's with nothing to play for apart from pride.

Of course the Pietersen issue is complex. From the beginning, his relationship with the England national team has been based on mutual, but uneasy, convenience. The team has tolerated him, the fans have accepted him grudgingly, and the media has been ambivalent. Though he has turned more matches for England than Andrew Flintoff - whose folk-hero status was earned through only a handful of performances - did, Pietersen has remained the outsider, the genuineness of his display of hyper-loyalty to the English always in doubt, his faults always scrutinised with extra rigour.

A full season of the IPL over Tests for England? What was he thinking?

No one has emerged with credit from the happenings of the last ten days. Pietersen has been petulant, and his bosses have come across as petty. Pietersen has felt let down by his employers for betraying his confidence, and Andrew Strauss has felt let down by the apparently derogatory text messages sent by Pietersen.

The media, a section of it at least, has played a curious role. On Sunday more details emerged about Pietersen's alleged text messages to the South African players, with a specific Afrikaner word becoming the subject of delighted dissection in the media box. When do private messages become worthy of publication? Perhaps when they serve public or national interest. In this case, it's hard to imagine what interest is served beyond the prurient.

Strauss, by all accounts a decent man with a calm disposition, has every right to be aggrieved. But imagine how many friends each of us would have lost and how many of our colleagues would have turned against us if every unkind word we uttered about them in moments of pique had reached their ears.

So as those charged with safeguarding the interest of English cricket ponder Pietersen's future in the national team, here's their case against him: He is greedy, not much of a team-man off the field, not liked much by his team-mates, has been indiscreet with his comments in public, perhaps doesn't like his captain much and been privately disrespectful of him, and has been seen drinking with the opposition. But is that enough to hang him?

Now let's examine the defence: There has never been any evidence of Pietersen giving anything less than his best on the field. He was crucified for not being able to resist the pull that brought him down at The Oval, but he played no differently at Headingley, where his innings was hailed as being among the best seen at the ground. He is not known to lead his young team-mates astray or to have plotted a rebellion in the ranks; and he has publicly apologised for some of his mistakes.

The whole squalid drama has produced no winners. And no conceivable good can emerge by dragging it further. Big players are often hard work and players don't need to be mates to fight for the common cause. We don't quite know what Stuart Broad, England's T20 captain thinks of Pietersen the man. But should that matter?

If Pietersen were never to play international cricket again, the loss would be greatest for the fans, to whom the administrators owe the biggest responsibility.