Cricket Under Hegemony: How India Turned a Regional Game into a Power Instrument

In South Asia, power has never been exercised only through borders, armies, or treaties. It has flowed through trade routes, water sharing, media, and quietly but decisively through cricket. What we are witnessing today is not a sporting dispute but the consolidation of regional hierarchy, with India at the apex and the rest of South Asia forced into varying degrees of compliance.

Pakistan’s Defence Minister Khawaja Asif’s call for an alternative global cricket body was quickly dismissed by Indian commentators as political theatrics. Yet such calls emerge only when institutional pathways collapse. His accusation that the International Cricket Council has become “hostage to Indian political interests” reflects a deeper South Asian anxiety: that multilateral platforms no longer function as neutral spaces when India’s interests are involved.

From Regional Power to Regional Enforcer

India’s dominance of cricket mirrors its broader regional posture assertive, asymmetrical, and increasingly intolerant of dissent. The Board of Control for Cricket in India is no longer just a sporting body; it is a strategic actor projecting Indian power across South Asia.

Under the current ICC revenue model, India controls nearly 40% of global cricket income. This financial concentration replicates a familiar regional pattern: economic dependency used to discipline neighbours. Smaller South Asian nations, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka are structurally discouraged from challenging Indian preferences because the costs are existential.

In such an environment, “choice” becomes theoretical.

Pakistan: Too Big to Obey, Too Risky to Exclude

Pakistan occupies a unique and uncomfortable position in this hierarchy. Unlike smaller neighbours, it cannot be easily absorbed or ignored. Its boycott threat ahead of the T20 World Cup was not an act of withdrawal but a geopolitical signal, participation without consent.

This is precisely why Jay Shah, wearing both ICC authority and Indian institutional legacy, was pushed into reluctant diplomacy. The India–Pakistan fixture is not just a match; it is the single most valuable commodity in global cricket. Excluding Pakistan would fracture the commercial spine of the tournament.

The ICC’s response, dispatching Deputy Chair Imran Khwaja for quiet back-channel talks, exposed the truth: the institution cannot enforce neutrality when its biggest shareholder is also a regional hegemon.

Bangladesh and the Cost of Defiance

If Pakistan represents resistance, Bangladesh represents vulnerability.

The BCCI’s unilateral decision to release Mustafizur Rahman from the IPL, citing “political developments” - triggered a chain reaction that ended with Bangladesh refusing to tour India and being replaced by Scotland. This was not a scheduling issue; it was disciplined by substitution.

In South Asian terms, the message was unmistakable: defiance invites isolation. This is how hierarchy is maintained, not through overt bans, but through quiet rearrangements that punish without announcing punishment.

Normalising the Unthinkable

Former Indian cricketer Harbhajan Singh openly declared that India does not need Pakistan and can survive without it. Such statements matter not because they are policy, but because they reveal a mindset where exclusion is considered a legitimate option.

This is how dominance becomes normalised. First rhetorically. Then administratively. Finally, structurally.

South Asia has seen this pattern before, in trade negotiations, river water disputes, and regional diplomacy. Cricket is simply the latest arena.

The ICC as a Hollow Multilateral Shell

In theory, the ICC is a global institution. In practice, it resembles many South Asian multilateral frameworks where one power sets the rules while others adapt. When India controls revenue, scheduling, hosting rights, and broadcast windows, neutrality becomes impossible.

The result is a system where:

Smaller South Asian nations hesitate to speak.

Pakistan is managed as a “problem” rather than a stakeholder.

Decisions are framed as commercial inevitabilities rather than political choices.

This is not governance; it is a managed imbalance.

The Long-Term Cost for the Region

India’s approach may deliver short-term control, but it carries long-term risks. A region where sport mirrors political hierarchy will eventually fracture. Associate nations will stagnate. Bilateral distrust will harden. And cricket, once South Asia’s rare shared language, will become another theatre of rivalry and resentment.

You cannot build regional legitimacy on unilateral power.

If the ICC continues to function as an extension of Indian dominance rather than a counterbalance to it, South Asia will not see a golden age of cricket but a familiar story of centralised authority, silenced peripheries, and institutional decay.

Cricket does not need a new empire. It needs a genuinely plural order. Without it, the game will survive, but only as a reflection of power, not as a contest of equals.

Thank You 

Faisal Caesar 

When Cricket Stops Pretending to Be Neutral: India, Power, and the ICC’s Double Standards

Pakistan's decision to boycott its T20 World Cup match against India has been framed by much of the global media as an act of politicisation. That framing is misleading. What the boycott actually exposes is a far more uncomfortable truth: international cricket has long ceased to be neutral, and the International Cricket Council (ICC) now operates within an ecosystem structurally tilted in India’s favour.

The immediate trigger for Pakistan’s decision was security and diplomacy. Following deadly, coordinated attacks in Balochistan, attacks Pakistan’s interior minister publicly attributed to India, Islamabad chose not to proceed, with a high-profile sporting encounter against its rival. Whether or not one accepts Pakistan’s allegation, the principle involved is not novel. National governments have repeatedly exercised discretion over participation in ICC events based on security and political considerations.

What is novel is the selective outrage.

Bangladesh, Neutral Venues, and Selective Fairness

Tensions had already been building before Pakistan’s announcement. In January, Bangladesh requested that its World Cup matches be shifted away from India, citing security concerns. The ICC rejected the request outright and then went further, removing Bangladesh from the tournament altogether and replacing it with Scotland.

This decision was extraordinary. Historically, the ICC has accommodated such requests. India itself has refused to play in Pakistan for years, with its matches routinely shifted to neutral venues. England, Australia, and New Zealand have all declined tours or fixtures in the past without being expelled from tournaments or financially penalised.

Yet when Bangladesh sought identical consideration, it was denied. The principle of “neutral venues for security reasons,” long treated as legitimate when invoked by India, suddenly became unacceptable when invoked against India.

This asymmetry is the real scandal.

The ICC–BCCI Blur

The controversy has also reignited scrutiny over the increasingly blurred line between the ICC and the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI). The perception, fair or not, is that global cricket governance is now effectively anchored in New Delhi.

That perception matters because money matters.

An India–Pakistan World Cup match is not merely a fixture; it is the tournament’s financial engine. Advertising slots during such games sell for astronomical sums. Broadcasters price entire tournament valuations around this single matchup. When Pakistan withdrew, panic followed, not in cricketing circles, but in boardrooms.

This reaction reveals the structural dependency of the ICC on India-centric commercial logic. When India advances deep into tournaments, revenues soar. When India exits early, as in the 2007 World Cup, broadcasters panic and financial models collapse. That dependency has quietly reshaped governance priorities.

Fairness, under such conditions, becomes conditional.

Precedent Matters And Pakistan Is Within It

The charge that Pakistan is “politicising cricket” collapses under historical scrutiny.

In 1996, Australia refused to play matches in Sri Lanka. In 2003, England and New Zealand declined tours citing security concerns. Zimbabwe skipped the 2009 T20 World Cup. None faced revenue sanctions. West Indies continue to receive full ICC distributions despite repeated failures to qualify for global events.

These are not exceptions. They are precedents.

ICC revenue allocation has always been structural, not punitive. Participation has never been enforced through financial coercion. To suggest otherwise now—implicitly threatening Pakistan with “long-term consequences” marks a dangerous departure from established norms.

The India Exception

What truly undermines the moral argument against Pakistan is India’s own record. India has unilaterally suspended bilateral cricket with Pakistan for over a decade without consequence. Entire Future Tours Programme cycles have been disrupted. The ICC did not intervene. No fines were imposed. No lectures were delivered about “the global game.”

Political selectivity, in other words, has already been normalised, primarily when it serves Indian preferences.

Pakistan’s response, therefore, is not radical. It is reciprocal.

Power, Not Principle

It is also worth noting that Pakistan is no longer institutionally dependent on ICC revenue in the way it once was. The Pakistan Super League has created an independent commercial base, placing the PCB among a small group of boards with financial leverage outside ICC distributions.

That reality alters the power equation. The implicit assumption that Pakistan must comply to survive is outdated.

The Real Question

This episode forces cricket to confront an uncomfortable question:

Is the ICC a multilateral sporting body, or a revenue management arm of Indian cricket?

If neutral venues are acceptable for India but unacceptable for Bangladesh, that is not governance; it is a hierarchy.

If political discretion is legitimate for some but condemned for others, that is not neutrality; it is power.

Pakistan’s boycott does not politicise cricket.

It merely exposes who has been doing so all along.

Thank You 

Faisal Caesar 

The Gilded Cage: Indian Autocracy and the Slow Death of World Cricket

Cricket today is no longer governed; it is managed, monetized, and manipulated. What was once a multilateral sporting ecosystem has been reduced to a hierarchical order dominated by a single actor: the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI). By 2026, the erosion of cricket’s global character is no longer subtle. It is structural, institutional, and deliberate, enabled by an International Cricket Council (ICC) that has surrendered regulatory authority in exchange for commercial survival.

This is not dominance through excellence; it is autocracy through leverage.

Financial Capture: How the ICC Became a Subsidiary

Under the current ICC revenue-sharing model, the BCCI absorbs approximately 38.5% of global cricket revenues. England and Australia, historical pillars of the game, receive around 6% each, while most full members survive on allocations below 5%. Associate nations remain permanently dependent, structurally incapable of closing the gap.

This is not redistribution. It is rent extraction.

India’s control over nearly 80% of global cricket’s commercial value, driven by broadcasting rights, sponsorship concentration, and advertising markets, has allowed the BCCI to convert market size into veto power. The ICC, rather than counterbalancing this asymmetry, has institutionalized it. The result is a governance monoculture in which every major decision, Future Tours Programme scheduling, tournament formats, hosting rights, even leadership appointments, as presumed, requires implicit Indian approval.

Global cricket is no longer planned around sporting equity; it is optimized for Indian television ratings.

The Myth of Neutrality: The Hybrid Model as a Political Weapon

The most glaring manifestation of this imbalance emerged during the 2024–2026 tournament cycle, particularly in the selective application of the so-called “hybrid model.”

For the 2025 ICC Champions Trophy, India refused to travel to Pakistan, citing vaguely defined “security concerns”despite multiple international teams touring Pakistan without incident. The ICC capitulated immediately, relocating India’s matches to the UAE, effectively granting them a de facto home environment.

Yet when other nations raised parallel concerns regarding conditions and fairness during the T20 World Cup, co-hosted by India and Sri Lanka, the same flexibility vanished. Scheduling was structured almost entirely around Indian prime-time viewership, forcing players into brutal heat, compressed recovery windows, and intercontinental travel patterns designed to maximize broadcaster revenue rather than athletic integrity.

Neutrality, it turns out, is available only to India.

Bangladesh’s Defiance: A Rare Breach in the Wall

Against this backdrop of institutional submission, the Bangladesh Cricket Board (BCB) unexpectedly emerged as a fault line in the system. The 2026 standoff—sparked by BCCI pressure on IPL franchises to sideline Bangladeshi players, most notably the Mustafizur Rahman episode, exposed how league power is now weaponized to discipline smaller boards.

Bangladesh’s refusal to participate in the T20 World Cup in India was not a tantrum; it was a mirror. India’s own precedent, refusing to travel to Pakistan while demanding accommodation elsewhere, made Bangladesh’s position not only legitimate, but logically unassailable.

When the ICC refused to relocate Bangladesh’s matches to neutral Sri Lanka, despite having done precisely that for India months earlier, it stripped the organization of its last claim to procedural fairness. As Bangladesh’s sports advisor Asif Nazrul noted, the episode confirmed that ICC “justice” is conditional, hierarchical, and transactional.

For once, a board refused to sell the dignity of 200 million supporters in exchange for compliance.

From Big Three to Big One: The Hollowing Out of the Game

What began as the “Big Three” era has collapsed into a “Big One” system. Test cricket is being starved of funding to accommodate an ever-expanding IPL window. Associate nations are kept in a permanent state of dependency, funded just enough to exist, never enough to compete. Competitive balance is treated as a threat, not an objective.

This is not stewardship. It is managed decline.

Cricket, under BCCI-driven governance, is being reshaped into a scripted commercial product where outcomes, venues, and calendars orbit a single national interest. The sport’s global legitimacy is the collateral damage.

India’s dominance is not rooted in superior diplomacy or a coherent vision for cricket’s future. It rests almost entirely on demographic mass and market coercion. By reducing the ICC to an administrative shell, the BCCI has secured short-term profits while accelerating long-term irrelevance outside the Indian market.

The Bangladesh Parallel, and the Moral Inversion

Bangladesh’s objections mirror India’s own stance during the Champions Trophy, yet with greater moral consistency. India not only maintains an openly hostile political narrative toward Bangladesh, but continues to shelter Hasina Wajid, a fugitive convicted by the International Crimes Tribunal, linked to the deaths of over 1,400 Bengalis.

In this context, Bangladesh’s refusal to travel is not merely procedural, it is ethical.

What is truly damning is the spectacle of ICC board members accepting these contradictions without protest. The Champions Trophy was not merely compromised for Pakistan; New Zealand and South Africa paid a tangible sporting price through forced travel that directly impacted their knockout-stage performances. They complied, and were punished for it.

A Game Held Hostage

World cricket today operates inside a gilded cage: lucrative, polished, and fundamentally unfree. Until boards collectively challenge this concentration of power, the erosion will continue, quietly, efficiently, and irreversibly.

The “Gentleman’s Game” is no longer governed by gentlemen. It is governed by a bully with a balance sheet.

And history suggests that no sport survives for long when only one nation’s interests are allowed to matter.

When Cricket Becomes a Border Checkpoint - How India Hijacked Cricket and Turned It into a Tool of Power

Cricket, in South Asia, was never merely a sport. It was a shared language, spoken fluently even when diplomacy failed, even when borders hardened and guns replaced dialogue. That language is now being rewritten, not with runs and wickets, but with political pressure, strategic exclusion, and calculated silence.

The recent removal of Bangladesh fast bowler Mustafizur Rahman from the Indian Premier League (IPL) is not an isolated administrative decision. It is a symptom, perhaps the clearest yet, of how India has transformed cricket from soft power into a blunt geopolitical instrument.

The Incident That Exposed the System

On January 3, BCCI secretary Devajit Saikia told India’s ANI that the board had instructed Kolkata to release Bangladesh pacer Mustafizur Rahman due to “recent developments.” Kolkata complied the same day.

That phrase,“recent developments,i"is deliberately elastic. It is the kind of bureaucratic fog that allows an institution to do something political while pretending it is procedural. No injury was cited as the reason. No sporting logic was publicly offered. The implication, widely understood in Bangladesh and echoed in Indian commentary, was that the decision was tied to the worsening political climate between Bangladesh and India after the fall of Sheikh Hasina’s government in August 2024 and her subsequent refuge in India.

In other words: the bowler was not dropped from a league; he was dropped from a relationship.

How Cricket Becomes a Punishment Tool

In a normal sporting ecosystem, franchise cricket is transactional. Players move across borders because leagues want skill, and players want careers. That is what a global sport looks like when it is allowed to behave like a sport.

South Asia is increasingly different. Here, cricket is mutating into a diplomatic lever, a tool not only for image-making, but also for discipline and punishment. And the country that can do this most effectively is India, because India is not simply a participant in world cricket. India is the market.

The IPL is the richest franchise tournament on earth. India supplies the largest audience. Money flows in one direction so overwhelmingly that many boards and institutions have learned to speak softly around Delhi, not because Delhi is always right, but because Delhi is always rich.

When a sport becomes dependent on a single treasury, neutrality becomes a luxury. And morality becomes negotiable.

The Real Message: “Access Is Conditional”

If Mustafizur can be bought at auction for an enormous fee and then removed on a politically convenient pretext, what does that tell the region?

It tells every neighbouring country and every player that entry into “Indian cricket” is not a sporting matter. It is permission-based. It is conditional. It can be withdrawn, suddenly and publicly, as a signal.

That is why this episode is being read, quite reasonably, as a statement: Indian cricket is not a platform you earn; it is a privilege India grants.

This is not soft power anymore. This is coercive power wrapped in the glamour of sport.

The Domestic Engine Behind the Decision

The ugliness does not stop at institutions. The episode reveals how quickly major cricket decisions can be hijacked by India’s domestic majoritarian ecosystem.

According to the narrative circulating in Bangladesh (and referenced in Indian critiques), hardline Hindu nationalist groups pressured Kolkata not to play Mustafizur and issued threats, including towards the franchise and its owner. The point here is not the theatre of outrage; it is what followed: capitulation.

If administrators and political authorities bend to communal agitation, they do not merely “avoid controversy.” They legitimise intimidation as a method. They teach the region that threats work—and that the boundary line between fan passion and political bullying has dissolved.

A sport that kneels to communal pressure becomes a billboard for communal power.

Security: The Question India Cannot Escape

Bangladesh’s response, banning IPL broadcasts, formally raising concerns with the ICC, and seeking to move World Cup matches out of India, was not just nationalist theatre. It was rooted in a simple, devastating question:

If India cannot ensure the security and dignity of one Bangladeshi cricketer in the IPL, what guarantee exists for an entire team, management, journalists, and travelling supporters during a World Cup?

Bangladesh’s position, as stated in your text, is that ICC’s security assessment acknowledged specific risks. Whether the ICC ultimately shifts venues or not, the damage is already done: India’s credibility as a “safe, neutral host” has been dragged into the political mud—largely by India’s own domestic climate and the BCCI’s own choices.

The Pattern Is Familiar: Pakistan Was the Prototype

For years, India’s relationship with Pakistan has shown what happens when cricket is treated as a geopolitical theatre. Tournaments get “hybrid models.” Venues become battlegrounds. Symbolic gestures, handshakes, photo-ops, and trophy presentations become diplomatic statements.

Your text cites an Asia Cup example where India’s objections drove venue arrangements and where symbolic refusals intensified controversy. The details of any specific incident can be debated, but the pattern is unmistakable: India increasingly behaves as though tournaments are not mutually governed events but negotiated spaces where Indian preference becomes de facto policy.

The problem is not that India has interests. Every country does. The problem is that India’s interests, backed by unmatched financial weight, frequently become everyone else’s reality.

What Was Lost: Cricket as a Bridge

South Asia once had a different idea of cricket—a rare shared language that could survive when everything else broke down. The 2004 India tour of Pakistan is often remembered as the high watermark: “friendship series,” leaders speaking of winning hearts, fans travelling under special arrangements. Even after Mumbai 2008, cricket diplomacy returned in flashes, like the 2011 World Cup semifinal attended by both prime ministers.

Those moments mattered because they suggested something larger: that sport could force adversaries to sit, to look, to breathe the same air.

The Mustafizur episode moves in the opposite direction. It says: we can keep you out, and we can do it with a smile, and the world will accept it because our money runs the sport.

That is a terrifying precedent.

India’s Cricket Empire and the ICC Problem

The uncomfortable truth is that the ICC, structurally, is not built to resist India. When one board dominates revenue, the regulator becomes psychologically captured, less a referee than a manager of the dominant player’s satisfaction.

Your text also points to the wider perception of institutional proximity between Indian political power and cricket governance. Even if one avoids personalising the argument, the broader issue stands: when a sport’s global governance is shaped by one country’s money and political climate, it ceases to look global. It begins to look imperial.

And empires rarely tolerate equal neighbours.

Bangladesh’s Defiance and Its Own Test

Bangladesh’s assertive response carries symbolic force. A smaller nation has said: honour first. That matters in a region where small states often learn to swallow insults for access.

But Bangladesh also faces its own test: defiance must become a strategy, not just rhetoric. A bold stance can win a moment; diplomacy must win the decade. If the region is moving toward a future where sport and politics collide openly, Bangladesh will need more than anger; it will need a clear plan: security protocols, negotiation leverage, regional alliances, and economic resilience.

Because India’s greatest advantage is not just nationalism. It is dependent on other dependencies on Indian cricket money, Indian markets, and Indian approvals.

The Verdict: This Is Not Cricket, It’s Control

So, is it still cricket?

Not in the moral sense. Not when a player becomes collateral. Not when “recent developments” becomes a euphemism for political filtration. Not when communal intimidation sets a selection policy. Not when the world’s most powerful board behaves like a state ministry, with franchises and players as its paperwork.

India has every right to be influential. It does not have the right to turn influence into punishment, to treat access like a leash, and to call it normal governance.

Cricket, at its best, is competition with restraint, power disciplined by rules, rivalry contained by ethics. When India weaponises cricket’s economy and domestic political climate to police neighbours, it doesn’t just damage Bangladesh. It damages the game’s meaning.

And once a game becomes a visa regime, once it becomes conditional entry, conditional dignity, conditional belonging, then the scoreboard is no longer the point.

The point becomes domination.

Thank You 

Faisal Caesar

The Hybrid Model and the Unquestionable Advantage: This Is Not Cricket

Cricket, often celebrated as the great equalizer, has long been a game of conditions, adaptation, and strategy. But what happens when the very nature of its tournaments tilts the balance? As Rohit Sharma and his counterparts boarded their respective flights for the Champions Trophy, six of the eight captains had to engage in a meticulous study of conditions—venue dynamics, temperature fluctuations, dew factors, the pitch's temperament towards pace or spin, and even the vagaries of the weather. All this data would have either been supplied to them by their analytical teams or meticulously researched by the captains themselves.

Pakistan's skipper, Mohammad Rizwan, carried the natural advantage of home familiarity, an edge that historically defines the importance of hosting in cricket. The precedent is clear: in the last four 50-over World Cups, the host nation has either lifted the trophy or, at the very least, reached the final. Home conditions are not just an environmental factor; they shape selections, strategies, and ultimately, results.

However, a peculiar anomaly in this tournament has granted an even greater advantage—an unfair hybrid model that ensures Team India enjoys privileges unlike any other. This is not a veiled accusation but a stark reality. While Rizwan understands the nuances of Karachi, Lahore, and Rawalpindi, Rohit Sharma and his men remain stationed in Dubai, unburdened by travel, acclimatization, or venue-specific recalibration.

A Schedule Dictated by One

Consider New Zealand’s itinerary. Having just played India in Dubai, they must now undertake a cross-continental journey back to Pakistan for their semifinal. If they progress to the final and India does the same, they will once again board a flight back to Dubai. In stark contrast, India’s squad will merely return to their hotel rooms, wake up refreshed, and meticulously prepare for the finale in the comfort of a stable environment.

This logistical disparity is not a mere coincidence but a direct byproduct of the hybrid model. To be clear, India did not explicitly request this convenience. All participating teams, including Pakistan, signed off on the schedule before it was ratified by the ICC. Yet, the advantage persists, raising critical questions about fairness and the spirit of competition.

The Unquantifiable Yet Indisputable Edge

Michael Atherton, speaking on the Sky Sports Podcast, succinctly articulated this imbalance:

“What about the advantage India have in playing in Dubai, only in Dubai? Which seems to me to be a hard-to-quantify advantage, but an undeniable advantage.”

With India playing exclusively in Dubai, their selection strategy could be honed with precision. The inclusion of five frontline spinners was not an accident—it was a calculated decision based on Dubai’s slow and turning pitches. Nasser Hussain elaborated further:

“They were very smart in their selection. They probably knew what Dubai is going to be like. They picked all their spinners. There was a bit of debate with Indian media saying why don’t you have gone for an extra seamer? Why all these spinners? Now we can see why.”

Contrast this with England or Pakistan. England, if they reach the semis, will only have one specialist spinner. Pakistan, too, has just a solitary frontline spinner. The difference is glaring: while other teams must adjust to different surfaces in Karachi, Lahore, and Rawalpindi, India enjoys consistency, an uninterrupted focus on a single venue’s conditions.

The Politics of Cricket: A Larger Question

The uncomfortable truth is that cricket's global governing structure is increasingly skewed by financial power. Once India refused to tour Pakistan, an alternative had to be devised—one that protected India’s participation and the lucrative India-Pakistan contest. The ICC’s acquiescence to this arrangement only cements the notion that revenue, not fairness, governs modern cricket.

In this landscape, the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI) looms large. With its financial clout, it dictates not only India’s itinerary but, indirectly, the logistical fate of all other teams. The argument that India deserves this advantage because it generates the most revenue rings hollow—it mirrors the logic of a monopoly, where power justifies privilege.

For over two decades, this growing imbalance has eroded the very ethos of cricket. The sport that once prided itself on being a contest of skill and adaptability is increasingly becoming a stage where certain teams are cushioned by systemic advantages. If cricket is to retain its democratic spirit, it must resist the temptation of structural favouritism. For in a game that reveres fairness, no team—no matter how powerful—should wield an advantage so blatant, so unchecked.

This is not cricket. This is something else entirely.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

The Twilight of ODIs: Will the 50-Over Format Survive?

 

As the ICC Cricket World Cup 2023 unfolds in India—arguably the beating heart of global cricket—it faces a curious paradox. Though cricket is nearly a religion here, the buzz around this edition is conspicuously subdued compared to past tournaments like 1987, 1996, and 2011. This diminished enthusiasm raises unsettling questions about the future of One-Day Internationals (ODIs). After all, India’s appetite for a cricketing format often determines its survival.

India: Cricket’s Unofficial Capital

Cricket may have been a colonial gift, but it is India that has transformed the sport into an economic powerhouse. Nowhere is this more evident than in the Indian Premier League (IPL). Introduced in 2008, the IPL began as a spectacle but has since evolved into the most lucrative event in world cricket. While other nations may have pioneered formats like Twenty20 (T20), it is India that has turned them into cultural phenomena and financial giants. 

The dominance of India’s Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI) means that global cricket is increasingly shaped by the country’s preferences. The IPL's growth exemplifies this power. With players often prioritizing IPL contracts over national duty, and some even retiring early from international cricket to play in the league, it is clear that the shorter format—especially T20—is gaining ground at the expense of other formats.

The Struggle for Bilateral ODIs

ODI cricket, once the crown jewel of international cricket, now finds itself in the crosshairs. Bilateral ODI series, which used to draw crowds and television audiences, are struggling to stay relevant. Top teams often rest their key players, the matches feel like fillers in a packed calendar, and the viewership ratings continue to plummet. The economics of cricket have shifted, and List A cricket (domestic one-day competitions) has dwindled in importance. 

The only bastions of tradition left seem to be Test matches—propped up by the allure of the Ashes and India’s continued enthusiasm for five-day cricket. Even here, it is tradition and legacy rather than financial viability that sustain the longer format. With the rise of T20 leagues across the globe, players and boards are beginning to view ODIs as an awkward middle child—too long to generate the instant thrill of T20s but lacking the prestige of Tests.

The Looming Expansion of IPL and T20

The IPL is no longer just a two-month festival; there is talk of expansion. An extended IPL, with more matches and longer seasons, seems inevitable. For players, the financial security offered by IPL contracts far outweighs the unpredictable nature of international cricket. With more games, more sponsors, and more cash, the IPL’s expansion would force the International Cricket Council (ICC) to revisit the Future Tours Programme (FTP). This could leave even less room for ODI cricket, as leagues become the financial lifeline for players and boards alike.

Already, several nations are eyeing franchise-based T20 leagues to bolster their domestic cricketing economies. It is not difficult to imagine a future where these leagues occupy the majority of the calendar year, leaving little space for bilateral ODIs. The 50-over format may soon face the fate of being relegated to World Cups only—or worse, being phased out entirely.

Can ODIs Find a Lifeline?

The ICC Cricket World Cup 2023, therefore, holds more significance than just the crowning of a champion. For ODI cricket, this tournament could be a lifeline. Yet, the challenge is steep. Despite its rich history—think of the classics like the 1992 World Cup or the unforgettable 2019 final—ODI cricket needs to strike the right chord with fans, broadcasters, and players to prove its relevance once again.

T20 cricket's appeal lies in its brevity, with a match wrapped up in three hours and the promise of action-packed entertainment. In contrast, ODIs, stretched over an entire day, demand more time from viewers. But with dwindling attention spans and the saturation of cricketing events, the 50-over format must reassert its value beyond nostalgia.

A Future Without ODIs?

The writing on the wall seems grim. In an era where commerce governs sport, the balance may tip in favor of formats that offer quick returns. T20 cricket has already established its dominance, and the idea of a T20 World Cup every four years, instead of the current two-year cycle, is being discussed to alleviate player workload. Test cricket, buoyed by tradition and selective fan engagement, still holds ground. But the ODI? It risks becoming a relic of a bygone era, unless it adapts swiftly to the changing dynamics.

In the topsy-turvy world of cricket commerce, survival depends on reinvention. Whether the 2023 World Cup will be ODI cricket’s revival or its requiem is a question only time will answer. One thing, however, seems certain: the future of the 50-over format hangs in precarious balance. Will it find a way to coexist alongside T20s and Tests, or will it be reduced to a fond but fading memory?

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

The Asia Cup Controversy: A Tale of Power, Politics, and Discontent

Bangladesh’s captain Mashrafe Bin Mortaza, often lauded for his amicable demeanour, appeared visibly irked while addressing reporters on Wednesday. Known for his warmth and candid interactions with the media, Mashrafe’s sudden shift to a more sombre and critical tone caught many off guard. The source of his frustration? A mid-tournament alteration to the Asia Cup’s Super Four schedule—a decision seemingly orchestrated to benefit one team: India.

The decision by the Asian Cricket Council (ACC), heavily influenced by the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI), raised questions about fairness and transparency. Typically, schedule changes in a tournament of such magnitude are necessitated by extraordinary circumstances. In this case, however, the revisions appeared strategically aligned with India’s interests, leaving Pakistan, Afghanistan, and Bangladesh disadvantaged.

The Dubious Revisions 

Under the new schedule, India was guaranteed all its matches in Dubai, irrespective of group standings. This decision starkly contrasted with the logistical challenges imposed on other teams. Pakistan, for instance, faced a gruelling itinerary: travelling to Abu Dhabi for a game against Afghanistan, returning to Dubai for a match against India, and then flying back to Abu Dhabi for their final encounter with Bangladesh. 

Bangladesh’s Mashrafe expressed his discontent unequivocally:

“It is very disappointing! Basically, what has happened is that we were made the second team in Group B even before we played the last game. We came here with a plan... But this morning we heard that we are already Group B runners-up regardless of whether we win or lose tomorrow. So, of course, it is disappointing.” 

His sentiments were echoed by Pakistan captain Sarfraz Ahmed, who highlighted the physical toll of constant travel in the searing heat. “Even if India loses all their games, they will be here,” he noted. “Things should be even for all teams, whether that’s India, Pakistan, or anyone else.”

Commercial Interests Over Cricketing Spirit 

The BCCI’s rationale for the changes was rooted in commercial priorities. The Dubai International Stadium, with its 25,000-seat capacity, surpasses Abu Dhabi’s Sheikh Zayed Stadium by 5,000 seats—a significant factor given the financial stakes of marquee clashes like India-Pakistan. As one unnamed BCCI official admitted, “BCCI is only getting the gate sales, and how can we compromise on 5000 seats?” 

While the financial justification may hold merit from a business perspective, it underscores a troubling reality in modern cricket: the growing influence of money over the spirit of the game. The disparity in scheduling not only compromised the fairness of the tournament but also tarnished the image of the BCCI as a steward of the sport.

The Larger Picture 

The BCCI’s dominance in world cricket is undeniable, stemming from its financial clout and strategic acumen. Yet, with great power comes greater responsibility—a principle that appears increasingly overlooked. The decision to prioritize commercial gains over equitable treatment reflects a broader trend of arrogance and insensitivity, eroding the democratic values India as a nation holds dear.

This episode serves as a stark reminder of the delicate balance between power and accountability. The BCCI, as a leading institution in global cricket, must recognize that its actions set a precedent. Respect and trust are earned not just through financial might but also through fairness, professionalism, and adherence to the principles of sportsmanship.

A Call for Introspection 

The Asia Cup scheduling debacle has left a sour taste, not just for the teams affected but also for fans who expect the highest standards of integrity in the sport. The ACC and BCCI must introspect and address the growing perception of bias and high-handedness. Cricket, after all, is more than a business—it is a passion, a unifier, and a testament to fair competition. 

In the end, it is not the size of the stadiums or the gate receipts that define the greatness of a tournament, but the spirit of equality and respect it upholds. It is time for cricket’s powerhouses to remember this simple truth and act accordingly.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar        

Lessons in Resilience: Zimbabwe’s Triumph and Pakistan’s Test Cricket Struggles

The final day of the second Test between Pakistan and Zimbabwe was anticipated to be a riveting showdown, a climax worthy of the resilience and intensity Test cricket demands. Pakistan found themselves in a position reminiscent of the iconic Multan Test against Bangladesh a decade earlier, where Inzamam-ul-Haq, against all odds, had become a one-man fortress, leading his team to an unforgettable victory. This time, fans looked to Misbah-ul-Haq to replicate that feat, but fate, it seemed, had other plans. Misbah could not channel the magic of Inzamam, and what unfolded was a historic triumph for Zimbabwe—a moment of collective jubilation as they celebrated a hard-fought victory, leaving Pakistan stunned.

Harare became the stage for a triumph of team spirit over disarray. Zimbabwe’s path to this moment had been steeped in turmoil; the players faced disputes with their Board over overdue payments and even threatened to boycott the series altogether. Yet, in the face of these challenges, the Zimbabwean team rallied. It was a demonstration of resilience, one that saw them face off with renewed energy and self-belief, beginning from the very first Test. Although Zimbabwe lost that initial battle of patience and resilience, they emerged for the second Test a transformed unit, full of steely resolve. Pakistan, by contrast, seemed unprepared for this resolute opposition, and their frail performance allowed Zimbabwe to seize an extraordinary victory.

At the heart of Pakistan’s struggles was a persistent inability to chase down totals—a problem as old as their storied journey in cricket itself. Since the late 1990s, Pakistani batsmen have been haunted by the specter of collapsing under the pressure of a chase. Despite hiring accomplished batting coaches and holding rigorous camps with esteemed consultants, the Pakistani side has struggled to instil the mindset crucial for Test cricket. Test cricket is not just a game; it is a philosophy. It demands precision, persistence, and poise—a methodology that holds no space for rash, whimsical strokes. To succeed, batsmen must cultivate a rhythm of patience, occupying the crease and rotating the strike rather than resorting to high-risk shots. Yet, in Zimbabwe, Pakistan’s batsmen succumbed to their own flashiness, launching into promising starts only to fall in unsightly ways. This repeated approach proved costly, underscoring a worrying inability to adapt to the mental demands of the longest format of the game.

However, Zimbabwe’s success was not merely a consequence of Pakistan’s failures. Their achievement deserves to be celebrated as a testament to the power of unity, focus, and discipline under trying circumstances. In modern cricket, winning a Test match is a rare feat that goes beyond luck; it is an ordeal of mental and physical endurance. Zimbabwe’s triumph here is an example of grit and determination to conquer more formidable resources and reputations. Lacking a formidable bowling attack or explosive batting lineup, Zimbabwe relied on a disciplined, methodical approach. Their steadfast resolve underscored the fact that cricket, at its core, rewards focus and perseverance above all else.

This win propelled Zimbabwe to ninth place in the ICC Test Championship rankings, overtaking Bangladesh, and raised important questions for Bangladesh’s cricket community. While this result may not have delighted Bangladeshi fans, it offers a sobering benchmark. Zimbabwe’s rise, with fewer resources and more turbulence, is a reminder that in Test cricket, commitment and determination are as critical as talent and infrastructure. Over the past thirteen years, Bangladesh has won only four Test matches—a meagre total considering their facilities, better compensation, and a more stable Cricket Board compared to Zimbabwe. In contrast, since their re-entry to Test cricket in 2011, Zimbabwe has achieved three Test wins in two years, including this victory against Pakistan—a significant Test-playing nation.

Bangladesh’s journey in Test cricket has been marked by untapped potential. It is time to recognize Zimbabwe’s recent achievements not with envy but with a desire to emulate their progress. Bangladesh must confront the realities of Test cricket, reflecting on Zimbabwe’s success as a wake-up call. If a team facing such adversity can showcase growth and resilience, then surely, with the right attitude and strategic intent, Bangladesh too can turn its story around. For now, Zimbabwe’s triumph serves as a clear answer to the question, “Who is improving more?”

 

Thank You
Faisal Caesar

Cricket in Crisis: The Unseen Forces Behind Spot-Fixing Scandals

 

Cricket's tarnished arena—a sport once revered for its passion and grit—now frequently grapples with the dark shadows of corruption, with spot-fixing scandals emerging as an alarming constant. Unlike the flurry of activity seen in cardiac emergency rooms or OPDs, a job in the ETT room is less chaotic, offering moments for contemplation and, often, a chance to unwind. My refuge after a long day of work and postgraduate studies lies in the cricketing world, whether through watching matches, reading articles, or scrolling through popular cricket websites. This routine is supposed to ease stress, yet lately, the news emerging from these sites only sows frustration. The re-emergence of spot-fixing has once again disrupted the sanctity of cricket.

After a quiet period, spot-fixing has reared its ugly head, this time marring the Indian Premier League (IPL). Three promising Indian cricketers—Sreesanth, Ankeet Chavan, and Ajit Chandila—stand accused. To a cricket lover, witnessing such talented individuals' careers jeopardized is disheartening, rekindling memories of Muhammad Amir’s descent into scandal. The disappointment with Sreesanth is equally profound; he was a beacon of promise, now overshadowed by disgrace. 

The question lingers: why would a cricketer, already well-paid, resort to such dishonourable means? The cash-rich IPL offers enough financial security to dissuade any need for illicit gains. But perhaps these cricketers are only the surface, mere players in a scheme far grander and darker, controlled by unseen hands who skillfully manipulate the game’s course.

Once a noble pursuit, cricket has transformed. It is now a machine generating millions, catering not only to players but to a network of businessmen who exploit it for their own gain. T20 leagues, while providing livelihoods and exposure, have unintentionally opened the floodgates for dark influences. The colossal sums of money flowing into these leagues are fertile ground for unscrupulous interests. Newspapers report how susceptible these tournaments are to spot-fixing, exposing young, impressionable athletes to a realm where quick profit can trump integrity. While these leagues have revolutionized cricket and made it more accessible, they have also inadvertently created a breeding ground for the morally bankrupt.

In any new venture, vice tends to follow opportunity. Evil's persistence in the face of innovation is hardly surprising, yet one might expect more vigilance from those at the helm. Rather than acting as guardians of the sport, cricket’s overseers often appear as engineers of this runaway money train, allowing it to tear through any obstacle in its path. Match-fixing isn’t a new affliction; it has haunted cricket for over a decade. The international cricketing authorities—the ICC and governing boards—could have taken robust action to eradicate this problem. Yet the recurrence of these scandals suggests an enduring negligence or, worse, an intentional blind eye. The game remains polluted by those who prioritize profit over preserving its essence.

Cricket demands not only physical prowess but also mental resilience. For every stalwart like Sachin Tendulkar or Rahul Dravid, capable of fending off temptation, there exists a vulnerable young talent, naïve and susceptible. These players, often overwhelmed by the pressures and enticements of the sport’s darker corridors, need guidance. Boards have a responsibility to protect them, not just to capitalize on their skill but to educate them on navigating the murky waters of international cricket.

Has the Board fulfilled its duty of care to these young players?

Cricketers like Sreesanth and Amir were not born as criminals; rather, they were ensnared by a system lacking safeguards, surrounded by devious criminals who feigned friendship only to exploit them. These masterminds—how do they hold such sway? How do they continually taint cricket’s reputation with impunity? Are they part of a more insidious network serving hidden power brokers? These are questions that linger, elusive and unanswered, leaving us with only guesses.

While Sreesanth and the others may face the consequences, and we may condemn them as we once did the Pakistani trio, the system remains intact. Meanwhile, the true puppeteers, shrewd and well-connected, continue to elude capture, chipping away at the spirit of cricket and our trust in the game.

Can cricket ever be liberated from those driven solely by the lure of wealth?

Perhaps, if it could be, we might yet find a remedy for its many afflictions.

 
Thank You
Faisal Caesar  

The Fast Bowling Conundrum: Nurturing Pace in Indian Cricket

For decades, Indian cricket has grappled with a persistent narrative: that it is a graveyard for pace bowlers. Beyond the brilliance of Kapil Dev, and the contributions of Javagal Srinath and Zaheer Khan, the cupboard has seemingly been bare. In contrast, Pakistan—India’s cricketing neighbour—has produced an endless supply of speedsters with the ease of a flourishing paddy field. But is this perception entirely fair? Or does the truth lie somewhere between rhetoric and reality?  

Myth vs. Reality: India’s Forgotten Fast Men  

It is convenient to dismiss India as a barren land for fast bowlers, especially when comparing it to Pakistan’s conveyor belt of pace talent. However, a deeper look reveals that India has not been devoid of pace bowlers—it has produced several, though not with the consistency or sustainability seen elsewhere. In addition to Kapil, Srinath, and Zaheer, several fast bowlers have emerged only to fade into obscurity over time. Names like Ajit Agarkar, Irfan Pathan, Sreesanth, Munaf Patel, and Harvinder Singh stand out as examples of bowlers who showed initial promise but failed to build lasting careers.  

The issue, therefore, is not merely a lack of talent but an inability to nurture and manage it over time. These bowlers did not lack skill; they lacked mentorship, continuity, and perhaps the systemic support necessary to thrive at the highest level.  

The Importance of Mentorship: A Comparison with Pakistan and South Africa  

A quick glance at Pakistan’s fast-bowling legacy highlights the role of mentorship in converting raw talent into enduring excellence. When Wasim Akram and Waqar Younis first burst onto the international scene, their prodigious abilities were refined under the watchful eye of Imran Khan. Similarly, South Africa’s formidable pace trio—Dale Steyn, Morne Morkel, and Vernon Philander—benefited immensely from Allan Donald’s guidance. This mentorship acted as a bridge between potential and performance, helping these bowlers evolve into match-winners over time.  

India’s young fast bowlers, by contrast, have lacked access to such consistent mentorship. While the MRF Pace Foundation has employed renowned international coaches, the absence of sustained guidance from a figure like Kapil Dev—arguably India’s greatest paceman—has been a glaring oversight. The BCCI did call upon Kapil in 1999, but their strained relationship kept him on the sidelines thereafter, depriving the country’s young bowlers of invaluable insights.  

The Underutilization of Kapil Dev  

Kapil Dev is more than a cricketing legend—he is a symbol of what is possible for pace bowlers in India. His mastery of swing, combined with his resilience, demonstrated that Indian conditions could still accommodate fast bowlers. However, his fractured relationship with the BCCI has meant that the vast pool of young Indian pacers has had little access to his wisdom. Had Kapil been given a more formal mentoring role, bowlers like Irfan Pathan and Munaf Patel might have received the precise guidance needed to prolong their careers and avoid burnout.  

The failure to tap into Kapil’s expertise is symptomatic of a broader issue in Indian cricket: a cultural bias that prioritizes batting prowess over the development of fast bowlers. Young batsmen receive copious amounts of attention, while pacers are often left to fend for themselves, resulting in promising careers cut short by injuries or inconsistency.  

Hope on the Horizon: Bhuvneshwar Kumar and the Next Generation  

Despite these challenges, Indian cricket is not without hope. The emergence of Bhuvneshwar Kumar—a bowler with the rare ability to swing the ball prodigiously—signals a potential shift. However, Kumar’s journey serves as a cautionary tale: talent alone will not suffice. For Kumar to achieve sustained success, he must be nurtured with care, given the right workload management, and placed under the guidance of experienced mentors.  

This is precisely where Kapil Dev’s involvement could prove transformative. Fast bowling is as much a mental discipline as it is a physical one, and only someone with firsthand experience of the challenges unique to Indian conditions can truly mentor a young pacer. An external coach may teach technique, but an Indian legend like Kapil would understand the nuances of managing pressure, handling media scrutiny, and bowling on unresponsive pitches.  

The Road Ahead: A Plea for Sensible Leadership  

It is inaccurate to say that India cannot produce fast bowlers. They do emerge—but without the proper ecosystem, they fade away just as quickly. The issue lies not in talent scarcity but in inadequate management and a lack of long-term vision.  

The time has come for the BCCI to set aside past differences and make use of the resources available to them. Kapil Dev should not be treated as a relic of the past but as a vital asset for the future of Indian fast bowling. His experience could be instrumental in shaping the careers of bowlers like Kumar and others waiting in the wings. Whether the BCCI will have the foresight to embrace this opportunity remains to be seen, but one thing is certain: India cannot afford to let another generation of fast-bowling talent slip through its fingers.  

In cricket, as in life, potential means little without the right guidance. Pakistan’s pace of success has shown that raw talent, when nurtured properly, can blossom into something extraordinary. If Indian cricket wishes to see its fast bowlers realize their true potential, it must act now—before it is too late. Whether the BCCI will seek Kapil’s counsel or continue to rely on foreign mentors is a question that lingers, but the answer may determine the future trajectory of Indian fast bowling.  

Good sense must prevail—for only then can India truly fulfill its promise as a land not just of batsmen but of fearsome pace bowlers as well.  

Thank You

Faisal Caesar