It is easy to dislike N. Srinivasan. The new chairman of the International Cricket Council (ICC) and suspended president of the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI) has a megalomaniacal air about him.
While there is no evidence of personal financial corruption, Mr Srinivasan certainly has a lot to answer for. Despite being a BCCI office-bearer and strongman of the Tamil Nadu Cricket Association, his family company, India Cements, was allowed to bid for and buy a franchise of the Indian Premier League.
In 2013, the India Cements-promoted IPL team, Chennai SuperKings, was embroiled in a scandal. Mr Srinivasan’s son-in-law was accused of trading insider information to place illegal bets. The matter was investigated by the BCCI, then headed by Mr Srinivasan. Finally, it took the Supreme Court to remove Mr Srinivasan from the BCCI presidency.
The obvious conflicts of interest have made the cricket official from Chennai a symbol of all that is wrong with the administration of Indian cricket. This week, when Mr Srinivasan took charge as chairman of a restructured ICC, the media went after him. There were many news stories, and social media posts, about the death of the gentleman’s game.
Some of this related to the controversies surrounding Mr Srinivasan. Much of it conflated his personality — or perceptions about his personality — with the new order in the ICC. A five-member executive committee will now run the ICC. India, Australia and England have permanent positions on it; the other two places will be filled by rotation if not by randomness.
That apart, cricket’s two-decade evangelical streak, the fervid attempt to raise the game of associate members of the ICC and take cricket to new markets and geographies, from China to the United States, has come to an end. The so-called “big boys” of cricket will play each other more often and there is a contraction in the room for cricket’s smaller and weaker teams, markets and economies.
Some cricket historians have called these changes retrograde, a throwback to the days when England and Australia had a veto in the ICC. India was on the other side then, and fought to nullify that veto. Today it has emerged as the dominant power in the ICC and reintroduced the veto, except it has become a veto holder itself.
Others have pointed out that rather than expand and push for greater transparency and democracy in the ICC, the new set of “reforms” actually make cricket’s ruling body that much more of a cartel. The BCCI is a byword for opacity and whimsicality and some of this will definitely rub off on the ICC (if it hasn’t already).
While all of this is true, there are three points that need to be kept in mind. First, even if Mr Srinivasan is in the eye of the storm, he has not forced these decisions on Indian and international cricket. There is a larger institutional buy-in. Even when Lalit Modi, now Mr Srinivasan’s foe, was riding high in the BCCI establishment five years ago, he was openly suggesting that cricket’s hierarchy needed to be reorganised and that the ICC Future Tours Programme (FTP) required a re-visit.
It was becoming inevitable over the past few years that the BCCI’s commercial clout in cricket needed to be formalised. Any BCCI leadership would have urged it. As such, it is important to delink
Mr Srinivasan and his obvious angularities from the larger pragmatism or opportunism that would inform the BCCI’s decisions.
Second, let us examine the roots of the opportunism. Till 30 years ago, when England and Australia were still the business leaders of cricket, cricket schedules were drawn up to suit them. The only permanent fixture on the cricket calendar was the Ashes series — played alternately in England and Australia. Everything else was negotiable. In the 20 years between the 1959-60 and 1979-80 seasons, Australia visited India only twice. Not till this year, 2014, has England bothered hosting India for a five-Test series.
In the 1980s and early 1990s, the BCCI and the Asian lobby pushed for a structured FTP to get Australia and England to commit to regular tours of India and neighbouring countries. That was India’s General Assembly phase, when it was part of the third world, railing against the superpowers.
Today, the BCCI is in Security Council mode. It wants more bilateral series and arrangements with Australia and England. These countries offer fan interest, sponsorship appeal and television timings that make sense to the BCCI and its business partners.
On the other hand, the Indian cricket team hardly tours Bangladesh and travels to Sri Lanka largely in rain-swept July and August, and not, for example, in November or December, when India’s own domestic season takes precedence. In a sense, India is treating cricket’s smaller markets and less compelling teams in exactly the manner Australia and England treated India in the 1970s.
Is this triumph of economics over egalitarianism fair and moral? Probably not. Is it only to be expected and a part of the enterprise of modern sport? Undoubtedly. How else would one explain that of the 32 teams playing in the Fifa World Cup, 13 are from Europe? One of four teams in Europe — the continent has 54 Fifa member countries — makes it to soccer’s premier tournament. About 150 teams from the rest of the world compete for 19 remaining qualifying slots. This is an acknowledgement of Europe’s football economy.
So is the fact that standout Olympic events — the 100 metres final, a big basketball match — are timed not for the convenience of spectators in the stadium but for television viewers in America.
Alternatively, take membership of the International Olympic Committee (IOC), the apex body of the Olympic movement.
It is not decided on transparent and democratic lines. The 100-odd individuals who are members of the IOC and have enormous influence in sports governance comprise European aristocrats, Asian princelings, American heavyweights, old-money fuddy-duddies, new-money brashness. It’s the ultimate closed circle.
Why would one expect cricket to be any different?
The writer can be contacted at malikashok@gmail.com
