





|
CRICKET
At Sixes and SevensIndian cricket is managed by a board notorious for its
inefficiency and misplaced priorities.
By Rohit Brijnath
This is the first deadly sin of sport: fiddling with a winning
team. So the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI) cleavered a successful team into
two for the Sahara Cup and Commonwealth Games. This is the second deadly sin of sport:
panicking under pressure. So the BCCI hemmed and hawed and sweated over who or when or how
many to send to Toronto. Pick a country on the globe and sport officials would have been
slaughtered for such stupidity. For the BCCI though it was business as usual: not even a
hair shook, let alone a head roll.
If you look at the people who run cricket in India you will
understand why.
BUNGLERS'
LIST |
| No cricketer figures among the present
senior BCCI office-bearers who are mostly bankers, politicians and businessmen. Dalmiya is the head of world cricket. But reportedly all BCCI decisions
require his approval.
BCCI committee's call meetings without any listed agenda.
Most members consider it a three-day all-expense-paid holiday.
While the BCCI ignores former captains like Bishen Bedi and
Srinivas Venkatraghavan, the Australian Cricket Board invites them to coach its players.
The BCCI lacks vision. Sri Lanka has a project named Cricket
2000; South African officials attend "Vision Seminars"; the English are setting
up academies in their universities. But India has no such concrete plan to run the game
along professional lines or tap talent. |
Five minutes after the BCCI wrapped up its annual
general meeting in Calcutta last week and the backslapping and lopsided grins were done
with, out of curiosity I asked an official, "Tell me, these vice-presidents of the
BCCI, what do they do?"
"Arre, there is one banker, the chairman of a fertiliser
company, two politicians, a businessman and a corporate vice-president." Then, his
preen firmly in place, he added, "There has never been a classier board."
Yes, quite, but it would be nice if a cricketer or two had
been thrown in.
All this is important. Because a hundred years from now, when
archaeologists assiduously sift the dust in Calcutta charting the demise of India's
cricketing civilisation, this will be their first clue.
There will be many more, for official ineptness lies
everywhere. "There are," says a chairman of one BCCI committee, "people who
tell me, 'Boss, organise a meeting, we'll chit-chat about Indian cricket'." With a Rs
3,000 daily allowance, a three-day "chit-chat" is rewarding. Better still is the
startling rebuff to India's cricketing greats, like Sunil Gavaskar being told, "Bobby
(Simpson) would like you to attend the Chennai camp." Bobby? Why doesn't the board
want Gavaskar to attend the camp?
Indeed, so cockeyed is the state of Indian cricket that there
is even confusion over who runs it. The sparrow-like 60-year-old Jaywant Lele, nowadays
known as "Denial Lele" because he contradicts himself so often, is secretary of
the BCCI and thus the boss. Or is he?
In England last week, writer Peter Roebuck called up the
English Cricket Board (ECB) and asked media manager Nigel Peel, "Who does the ECB
deal with in the Indian board?"
Said Peel: "Oh, Dalmiya (former BCCI
secretary and now International Cricket Council President)."
Hours later, Peel called back and said, "No, no, no,
it's Lele." Too late, it was a fatal slip of the tongue.
From a Delhi official, summoned once by Lele to help draft
some letters, arrives another tale. He prepared the letters, but then watched as Lele
faxed them to Dalmiya for his approval.
Dalmiya laughs. "If I had been running the BCCI's
day-to-day business this sort of mess wouldn't have happened." He says he doesn't
have the time to meddle with the BCCI, nor does he have the influence people believe he
does. "There's nothing wrong if I am asked for advice on policy. But I don't have the
power to throw out someone if he doesn't listen to me." Not everyone agrees. Sniggers
a former player: "The board is not democratic, it's controlled by Dalmiya."
But who runs the board is itself less important than the
truth that it is comatose -- overdosed on money some say. In organising tournaments, in
raising sponsorship fees -- just ITC's three-year sponsorship is worth Rs 24 crore --
Dalmiya has been sensational. But this romance with finance has bred a monstrous race of
cricketers: one story has it that some Indian players refused to take home their Man of
the Match awards from the recent India-Kenya-Bangladesh series because the sums were too
low (gratuitously, the cheques were given to dressing room attendants).
But money cannot buy dignity. It cannot deliver
professionalism. Lele, who wrestled with reporters for weeks over the Commonwealth Games
fiasco, finally admitted to India Today: "Yes, the Commonwealth Games episode has
embarrassed the board. We should have applied ourselves when the dates were first
announced, decided which teams would go where and stood by it."
One act of contrition is not enough. Ask Lele about
Gavaskar's no-show at the Chennai camp and he argues, "The board president asked him
in front of me." He pauses, then adds, "Yes, but we did not send him any
letter." Says Gavaskar, "The letter is not the point. All the BCCI had to say
was that it, not Bobby, wanted me to attend." Gavaskar is being kind. Last year he
went to the camp, wasn't received at the airport, found few players interested in his
advice and on checking out found he had to pay his own bill. Nice way to treat a legend.
Last week humiliation came visiting. An Australian Cricket Board academy team, including
Test players Matthew Elliot and Matthew Hayden, asked Bishen Bedi and S. Venkatraghavan
(ignored by the BCCI) to teach it the art of tackling spin. Confronted with this Lele has
only one answer, "It is embarrassing, we will think about it."
This board takes time to think. A cricket academy, for
instance, has been discussed, debated, chewed on, but hasn't made it to an architect's
office yet. Gavaskar, named chief director of the academy, says he told the BCCI eight
months ago that the academy could be set up in Mumbai where he has a plot of land, but has
not heard from it since. Even the hurriedly-constituted academy committee hasn't met yet.
There is no excuse and Lele knows it: "We are slow, I agree."
Sometimes the board is plain inactive, even when its image is
tarnished. Last year, in an incident at a Mumbai cricketing establishment, two selectors
were allegedly caught with a prostitute. Lele says he is aware of the incident, and even
though it was apparently witnessed by a young Indian player no action was taken. Says the
board secretary: "There was no proof." A BCCI official, echoing a most
disturbing cynicism, says, "The board required their votes, so didn't do
anything."
Perhaps such deviousness is exaggerated, but the BCCI's
reputation is unbecoming. Even its relationship with players is archaic: in the West
players speak their mind about officialdom, in India players live in fear of the BCCI.
Problems abound in Indian cricket, yet when last did a player openly criticise the BCCI?
He won't for he has too much to lose. Paid Rs 90,000 per one-day match (and they play
30-odd matches a year), Rs 1.25 lakh per Test, not to mention the personal sponsorships
they enjoy when playing for India, speaking out would mean putting all this at risk. Even
Sachin Tendulkar, king of the game, is wary. Last year he reportedly twice walked out of
selection meetings. Yet when some Indian players told him, "Don't back down, they
can't touch you," Tendulkar was unconvinced. The BCCI's omnipotence was driven home
while researching this story: almost all the people -- players, former players, officials
-- that India Today spoke to wished to remain unidentified.
There is a hopelessness about Indian cricket. While we
deliberate endlessly over silly businesses like who will be the next tour manager (who
will get drunk and be carried to his room like has happened with some managers), other
nations are galloping ahead. The South African board sends its staff for "Vision
Seminars"; Sri Lanka, hoping to become a dominant Test nation, has a project named
Cricket 2000; in England, aware of the potential of college cricket, four to five
university-academies are on the anvil.
India needs to wake up and smell the coffee. It's no good
Lele saying "international cricket is overlapping with domestic cricket" and
leave it at that. It's unacceptable that BCCI officials should be involved with tamasha
matches in Doha when there is an obvious conflict of interest. Even a man who can read
calendars correctly so the team arrives enough in advance for a tournament can't be found.
Someone has to think cricket. "Yes, yes," says Lele. "Such a committee is
on the anvil. It will look after cricketing aspects."
But who'll be on that committee?
"Cricket people," says Lele.
Ah, bankers, politicians, businessmen. |