Rhymes with orange? Cricket …

“We don’t think about the things that we don’t have. We are grateful for the things that we do have and we maximise them.” – Logan van Beek

Telford Vice / Harare

IN a country where the prime minister and the royal family gad about on bicycles, it follows that news of the Netherlands clinching the last spot at this year’s men’s World Cup by reaching the final of the qualifiers in Zimbabwe is far from the front page.

That the most recently elected of those prime ministers, Mark Rutter, resigned on Friday along with his entire cabinet also helps explain why, if you’re Dutch, you’re probably not thinking about cricket this weekend.    

Besides, in the Netherlands sport means football. Or tennis, hockey, speed skating, swimming or, of course, cycling. Or Max Verstappen. Cricket? That’s something people in England, Australia and India play. Not in the Netherlands, surely. Less cricketminded people in places like England, Australia and India would probably concur. 

Not quite, and not for a long time. Cricket was one of the country’s bigger sports in the 1860s, and the Koninklijke Nederlandse Cricket Bond — or Royal Netherlands Cricket Board — was formed in 1890. The Dutch played their first match in 1881 and they were at the 1996, 2003, 2007 and 2011 ODI World Cups, and the 2009, 2014, 2016, 2019 and 2022 editions of the T20I version.

That’s one tournament short of half of all the men’s World Cups played. Yet the Netherlands aren’t often counted among cricket’s most prominent countries. Especially when the countries who consider themselves among them do the counting. But, at the final against Sri Lanka at Harare Sports Club on Sunday, the Dutch can look forward to being treated like royalty — even if there isn’t a prime minister or a bike in sight.

It will matter little to the crowd that the side in orange are not their beloved Zimbabwe, who veered off the path to India by losing their last two Super Six matches, against the Lankans and Scotland. Victory for Craig Ervine’s team in either of those games would have clinched the place that was secured by the Dutch.

It will matter even less that their opponents are the only unbeaten side among the 10 who started the tournament on June 18. What will matter is that the Netherlands have gone out of their way to see the Zimbabweans beyond the boundary. And to hear them.

If you’ve seen a match in Zimbabwe that has drawn a crowd of any size, especially at HSC, you’ve been treated to multiple renditions of Munowapirei doro. The Shona song’s magic isn’t in its lyrics — which translate to, “Why give them booze now? See, they’re drunk and talking nonsense.” — but in its rhythm, flow and sheer singability.  

Having visited the country from September 2017, Max O’Dowd has heard his fair share of Munowapirei doro. “The first time I came here I heard people singing something in the background, and I didn’t make much of it,” O’Dowd said. “And then we came back for the recent series, prior to the South African series [in March]. I was on the field more and the fans were singing the song, and it was just the catchiest song I’d ever heard. Our local liaison officer told us about it and it caught on in the team.

“I happened to be humming it as we arrived in Zim this time. Some guy on Twitter was filming me and that went viral within the Castle Corner community. Every time I’m down in that corner now they sing the song. I love it. I don’t know the words but I know how it goes.”

What started with a simple song has become more complex. “The Zimbabwean people have made us feel so welcome, and made us fall in love with their culture,” O’Dowd said. “The people here have been amazing and the hospitality has been great. They are so kind, always willing to help. So it’s really easy to love the culture.”

The feeling will be reciprocated by the crowd on Sunday, when the Dutch will be heralded and serenaded as the adopted home side. “We would absolutely love that,” O’Dowd said. “It’s something we don’t experience very often as the Dutch cricket side.”

More often they experience the converse, because the Netherlands is a home for players adopted from other countries. Eight of their XI in the game against Scotland in Bulawayo on Thursday, when their World Cup place was confirmed, were born elsewhere. That can make them seem less like a cricket team than a United Nations project.

“I got sledged by Sean Williams about this; he called us the international side,” O’Dowd said. “I called him out on it. I said, ‘Do you speak the local language?’ He said no. I said, ‘Well, I speak Dutch so you got nothing on me, Sean.’

“We’re not the only team like that. You look at England, New Zealand, where people have tried different avenues or where families have moved. My mum’s Dutch and I grew up there when I was a kid. I’ve got 20 cousins in the Netherlands who absolutely love that I represent the Dutch. And I’m not the only one. We come together as one when we and we represent the Dutch.”

Other sides attach their playing philosophies to what they consider their national culture, or vice versa. It can be difficult to know where the players end and the patriots begin. India’s team have become, for many, exemplars and embodiments of India itself. What happens when this delusion bursts its banks was seen in the Lord’s pavilion on Sunday, where MCC members took Jonny Bairstow’s legitimate stumping as a national insult and behaved deplorably towards Australia’s players.

The Dutch are different, as Logan van Beek explained: “We spoke about this before the tournament, and that was the No. 1 thing that makes this team special — that we’ve got guys from New Zealand, Australia, South Africa, Pakistan, India, Holland; a whole melting pot. The connection is that we’re all Dutch. Yes, we all look different. Yes, there’s different names and things like that. But we’re all Dutch and we all fly under that banner. The power of diversity brings different flavours and different types of mindsets. If everyone’s open and willing to accept that it’s amazing what you can discover.”

Maybe van Beek should offer his services in other areas of society: the Dutch government fell on Friday because the four-party ruling coalition couldn’t agree on measures to curb immigration. If they had a culture closer to that of the national cricket team, maybe that wouldn’t have happened. 

More specifically, what was the culture of Dutch cricket? “We don’t think about the things that we don’t have,” van Beek said. “We are grateful for the things that we do have and we maximise them. So if an indoor centre has a broken light or we’ve only got two new balls left, we’re going to find a way to make things work. Wherever we’re staying, whatever the training conditions are like, if we have delayed flights or bags get lost, we’re very adaptable. Not a lot fazes us.

“A lot of other teams have 100 times more resources than us, 100 times more players than us, and all those things and we could complain about all of those things. But we’re trying to maximise what we have, and when the full team buys into that and into getting every little ounce of skill, talent, passion, whatever you want to call it, it’s amazing what can be achieved.”

O’Dowd took a stab at the same question: “One day you’re playing on a beautiful cricket oval and the next day you could be playing on an artificial pitch on a football field with another 16 football fields next to it. But the fans have a lot of say in Dutch cricket, and they’re extremely passionate about the clubs and how to generate the best players.”

Warm fuzziness is all very well, but how does it translate into performance? In the details, like the Netherlands’ near obsession with running twos. Had they not hustled for 32 of them against West Indies at Takashinga on June 26 they wouldn’t have taken the group game to a super over, where van Beek blew the Windies away with bat and ball. Dutch batters have taken 155 twos during the qualifiers, more than any other side and enough to represent 17.5% of all the runs they have scored; also a high for the tournament.    

“We’re sprinting from ball one,” O’Dowd said. “Even if we know it’s one run, we’re trying to create energy. We ran four twos in a row against Scotland [in Bulawayo on Thursday], and then [Bas de Leede] hit one straight to long-off. He should have been caught if the fielder was on the boundary. But because he had come off the rope to try and stop the two, it went over his head for six. It’s little things like that that take care of the bigger things.”

It’s also about getting the little things to add up to bigger things. Zimbabwe were the Netherlands’ closest rivals in twos terms with 134, and the United States were the nearest to them in percentage terms with 14.8. But the Zimbabweans have been shut out of their own party and the Americans limped home as the tournament’s only winless team.

No side at the qualifiers hit more sixes than West Indies’ 44, nor fewer than Sri Lanka’s 10. Yet the Windies have gone home in disgrace after failing to qualify for the World Cup for the first time in their history, and the Lankans are in the final against a side drawn from a country where the Topklasse comprises only 10 teams, who play on just five turf pitches.

Will realities like the latter be part of the narrative when the Dutch arrive in India in November? That while they have been among the bigger fish in the qualifiers’ small pond, they remain World Cup minnows? 

“We understand where we come from and our roots and how people perceive us, but that’s not how we think,” O’Dowd said. “We’ll be going in and playing our brand of cricket. We’ve shown during this tournament what that’s about. We don’t really think about who we’re playing. We do our analysis and our work on the opposition, and we respect them. But that doesn’t mean we’re afraid of anyone. Because if we were afraid then what’s the point of even rocking up? We understand that it’s going to be extremely hard because the opposition will be playing against very good players and very good teams. If we can just get into the battle and a chance presents itself, we’ll take that chance. Then anything can happen.”

Like it did when the Netherlands beat South Africa in the men’s T20 World Cup in Adelaide in November. Or when they held their nerve against the Windies in the qualifiers. Maybe they will lose more than they win against the bigger fish, but there’s no knowing when they won’t. The prospect made van Beek bristle with competitiveness.

“The World Cup is a 10-team competition and we’ve earned the right to be there,” he said. “So we should be treated just the same as any other team that’s there. If they take us lightly they might cop the same thing as West Indies and other teams have in recent times. We believe in the style of cricket that we’re playing, and we have proven to ourselves that that style can beat teams. So we’re going to that tournament and saying, ‘We’re just as likely as you are to win on this given day and at this given time. Let’s go out there and battle.’”

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Buttler the chump in arrogant Ashwin’s cheating

Buttler’s bat was behind the crease when Ashwin moved towards the stumps – a damning indictment of the bowler’s intentions. 

Times Select

TELFORD VICE in London

JUST seven games in and the 2019 edition of the Indian Premier League (IPL) has delivered a dozen half-centuries, a five-wicket haul and four of four scalps each.

One of the latter came from Imran Tahir, who took 3/9 for Chennai Super Kings against Royal Challengers Bangalore in Chennai on Saturday.

The best score by a South African in those games is AB de Villiers’ 41-ball 70 not out for Royal Challengers against Mumbai Indians in Bangalore on Thursday.

Doubtless the worthy performances will mount as the tournament wears on, but for now the IPL’s biggest story is what didn’t happen when Ravichandran Ashwin shambled in to bowl the fifth delivery of the 13th over of Rajasthan Royals’ innings in their game against Kings XI Punjab in Jaipur on Monday.

Ashwin didn’t bowl that ball and Buttler didn’t see what was happening behind him — Ashwin landed in his delivery stride, then changed course and broke the wicket.

An angry exchange between the two players ensued while the television umpire, Bruce Oxenford, made up his mind.

Oxenford’s decision was correct: Buttler had been run out.

That Buttler was out of his ground when Ashwin flicked off the bails was undeniable. But it was just as true that Buttler’s bat was still behind the crease when Ashwin started moving back towards the stumps — the most important fact of this matter and a damning indictment of the bowler’s intentions. 

Ashwin didn’t punish Buttler for cheating by stealing ground, which would have been his right. Instead, he engineered a dismissal that was patently unfair in every sense except where he knew it mattered: in the terms of what cricket calls its laws.

Ashwin cheated Buttler into believing he would bowl the ball. Then he cheated Oxenford into handing down the only possible decision. 

He even cheated the Marylebone Cricket Club (MCC), which said in a statement: “To clarify, it has never been in the laws that a warning should be given to the non-striker and nor is it against the spirit of cricket to run out a non-striker who is seeking to gain an advantage by leaving his/her ground early.

“Furthermore, with batsmen now being deemed in or out by millimetres by TV replays on quick singles, it is right that they should remain in their ground at the non-striker’s end until it is fair for them to leave.”

A day later, it appeared the MCC had changed its mind. “After reviewing footage of the incident and trying to work out when the moment is that the bowler is expected to deliver the ball — the key here — we think Buttler was still in his ground,” the club’s “laws manager”, Fraser Stewart, was quoted as saying by the Daily Mail’s website. “There’s then a delay, before Buttler drifts out of his crease — and it’s this delay that makes the dismissal against the spirit of cricket.”

What the nice man from the MCC didn’t say was whether it was right that bowlers should seek to entrap batters, as Ashwin unarguably did. 

If you’ve had to put up with him, you would not be surprised. Ashwin’s arrogance at press conferences makes Virat Kohli come across like a monk, which is in its own way impressive for someone who has failed to get his head above the parapet of mediocrity on anything other than home pitches.

He averages 48.07 in Tests in Australia and 46.14 in South Africa, and 28.25 in Asia. He is a one-trick pony who seems to think he is a quality bowler, despite resounding evidence to the contrary presented on pitches that aren’t made bespoke for him.

Still, Buttler should have known better. He suffered the same fate playing for England against Sri Lanka in a one-day international at Edgbaston in June 2014 — that time at the hands of Sachithra Senanayake, and after the bowler had warned him.

The danger of losing your wicket cannot be worth the gamble of a being a few millimetres closer to the other end of the pitch.

This has nothing to do with cricket’s rules, spirit or traditions. It has everything to do with failures of intelligence and integrity.

Buttler is a chump. Ashwin is a cheat.

Women go beyond cricket’s boundaries, but are still behind in the bank 

“We’ve got a batting specialist! A bowling coach! Someone who does the fielding! A media person at hand!” – Mignon du Preez gets excited about things male cricketers take for granted.

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STARSTRUCK – The author gets up close and personal with Anya Shrubsole, “cricket’s finest bowler, bar none”.

Sunday Times – Insight

TELFORD VICE in London

CRICKET yelled loud and lurid from a television in a buzzing Pakistani-run barbershop on busy Bethnal Green Road in London’s East End last week.

Live from Karachi in urgent Urdu, Express News’ lead sport story revealed all about movements up and down the International Cricket Council’s (ICC) rankings. The tale unfolded in slick scrolling stills of star players augmented by gaudy graphics and graphs. A woman’s voice bounced brightly, explaining it all, over hard-driven pop rock.

And in other news … Dull, soundless training footage appeared of the Pakistan team shuttling up and down a nondescript outfield. Cut to a short soundbite featuring one of them, uncaptioned. There were no graphics or graphs and no music, and the script was read off the teleprompter by the male news anchor — confirmation that the item wasn’t considered important enough to be, as television types say, “packaged” into a standalone piece. 

The first story was about male cricketers, the second about the Women’s World T20 (WWT20), which is underway in the Caribbean.

That a woman should be used to embellish — excellently, it sounded — the rankings piece and a man assigned what he clearly considered the chore of prattling passionlessly through the WWT20 story was lost in the electronic ether.

A good three minutes was devoted to the men. For the women, there was no wham, there was no bam, and it was thank you, ma’am, in maybe a minute-and-a-half.

The only men’s international on the go at the time was the second test between minnows Bangladesh and Zimbabwe in Dhaka. In the preceding hours of the same day in the WWT20, England and South Africa had beaten Bangladesh and Sri Lanka. Three matches had been played the day before, another was washed out, and two more would follow the next day.

Yet the nonsense of who was where in the rankings — no serious cricket person pays much heed to that gumph, which exists only to lure sponsors and help reporters out of a hole when they have nothing relevant to write about — was deemed worth telling before and better than what was happening at a world event.

Note the qualification in that event’s title. How come no-one talks, writes or broadcasts about the Men’s World T20, the Men’s World Cup, or men’s Test matches?  

Express News hadn’t made an error of editorial judgement. Instead, they had given their viewers what they wanted and expected. Indeed, changing what is taken for granted as the natural order of things would likely spark outrage among the game’s core audience: people who think cricket worth watching is played by men only. 

These people aren’t only men and they’re not only found in societies where women are born second-class citizens.

Mignon du Preez recalls bracing for “what was supposed to be a press conference” before leaving for a previous edition of the WWT20 as South Africa’s captain.

“But there was nobody there, just me and Sipokazi [Sokanyile, the team’s media officer]”, Du Preez said.

The problem isn’t confined to places where men make fire and women make salad, as former England medium pacer Isa Guha explained in the Daily Telegraph in March last year: “I remember getting on the team bus to Lord’s on the day of the [2009] WWT20 final, just two months after [England won] the World Cup, when the men had already been knocked out and we were the only hope of lifting a trophy on home soil.

“Despite our recent success, it appeared that the general public were unaware our competition was even taking place. On the way to the match, I saw a pub promoting the men’s game between Pakistan and Sri Lanka. We hadn’t even managed to garner a mention, even as the host nation.”

Eight years later, Lord’s was sold out for the women’s World Cup final. In the Long Room, Marylebone Cricket Club members in their bacon-and-egg ties saw a rousing contest in which England beat India by nine runs. Whether their eyes were good enough to know they were watching women went unasked, perhaps to save the ancient spike-pocked floorboards from being spattered by spluttered pink gin.

Hours afterwards, with founder Thomas Lord himself glowering dark and stormy from a painting on a wall in a vast room named in his honour and England’s celebration in full, bubbly flow, this reporter posed for his one and only starstruck selfie with cricket’s finest bowler, bar none: the magnificent Anya Shrubsole, bender of time, space and the paths of cricket balls, who had taken 6/46.

England had put South Africa out of the running in a heart-stopping semi-final in Bristol, which ended with another wonderful bowler, Marizanne Kapp, on her haunches in the middle of a suddenly desolate field; unable and unwilling to accept the awful truth of defeat and unimpeachable in her right not to do so.

It was cricket at its most watchable and visceral human drama, and the increasing focus on it is “worlds apart” from what Du Preez experienced earlier in her career.

“This time, at the farewell at CSA’s [Cricket South Africa] head office [in Johannesburg on October 23], the amount of media who were there, we were blown away.

“It was really special to see all the people who were there for us. Everybody wants a bit of the something special that we have. We need to say thank you.

“We need the media to help build our brand. That’s what happening and we’re really fortunate. I want to say thank you to everybody for all the support.”

Some of this will sound insipid. But try to imagine Kevin Petersen or David Warner thanking the press for doing their jobs. Or being grateful for support staff.

“It’s amazing to have all the hands on deck,” Du Preez said, and ticked them off like a kid listing what they got for Christmas: “We’ve got a batting specialist! A bowling coach! Someone who does the fielding! A media person at hand! It definitely helps because we can concentrate on specifics, and it’s always good to get a different point of view. We’re very fortunate that CSA have invested in us and given us the resources.”

It’s a shiny new reality for South Africa’s women players, who until three years ago weren’t on CSA’s payroll. That they now are is thanks in no small part to the South African Cricketers’ Association (SACA), the players’ trade union.

Even so, women’s retainers with CSA are worth, on average, a quarter of what men are paid. That must hurt?

“I don’t think we’re bothered that much,” Du Preez said. “The amount of work that CSA and SACA have done to ensure that we get parity benefit has been amazing.

“We’re travelling business class. We’ve got single rooms. We’ve got a provident fund. We’ve got medical aid. All that is the same as the men. When we travel our meal allowance and cellphone allowance are on par.

“We need to be realistic — there’s a lot more men playing the sport and they are bringing in the revenue.”

And it shows, what with women’s cricket routinely piggybacked onto the men’s game in sponsorship deals, and as curtainraisers in front of stands that will fill up only hours later. Indeed, the current WWT20 is the first to be staged as a standalone tournament.

But, according to the Federation of International Cricketers’ Association’s “Women’s Global Employment Report and Survey”, released on October 24, only 120 women worldwide call cricket their profession — or almost three times fewer than the 317 registered professionals, regardless of gender, in South Africa alone.

Matters are improving. Australia’s top women players earned a minimum of Aus$40 000 (just shy of R415 000) at the beginning of the year. Prolonged, at times bitter negotiations saw that leap to Aus$72 076.

But even giants of women’s sport are less equal than men. The 2017 Australian Open women’s tennis final and the women’s and men’s Big Bash League finals coincided. The television audience in Australia for the cricket peaked at 959 000, while 1.2-million tuned in to watch Serena Williams beat her sister Venus.

Advantage women? Maybe not. The cover of the current issue of the US edition of GQ magazine features Serena Williams. If you didn’t know what she does for a living, you wouldn’t have guessed from her long-sleeved leotard, which bared her legs to the hip, neatly framing her crotch, and allowed her cleavage to pop through a peephole.

As if that wasn’t enough to make Williams all about gender and nothing about what she has given the world, GQ billed her as their “Woman” of the Year.

That’s right. In quotes. Says it all.

Don’t bet on sport ever ridding itself of gambling

Television and sport are each other’s life support. What keeps television sport alive? Gambling.

Times SELECT

TELFORD VICE in Cape Town

THINK not a lot could connect a pioneering New York mob boss with the man for whom cricket’s grandest ground is named? Think again.

They are awkward bedfellows because of money, which they knew was readily generated in gambling on sport.

And before television bought sport lock, stock and smoking broadcast rights deals, everything sport achieved as an industry was paid for by gambling.

These days television and sport are each other’s life support. What keeps television sport alive? Gambling.

The life of Arnold Rothstein, nicknamed “The Brain” by Damon Runyon for his reimagining and reorganisation of common thuggery as the profitable business we now call the mafia, was always going to end badly.

It did in November 1928 when he was rubbed out for refusing to pay up after racking up debts of what in today’s money would be US$5-million in a poker game he considered fixed.

If Rothstein’s name rings a bell it’s because he’s the figure most often accused of fixing baseball’s World Series in 1919 — which the Chicago White Sox admitted throwing, creating what the papers enthusiastically wrote up as “the Black Sox scandal”.

Rothstein denied his involvement to a grand jury. Another theory is that he said it ain’t so with reference to one plot but was central to another, and even that he was in on both ends of the fix.

There is less doubt that he fixed more horseraces than you could shake a whip at, including at the track he owned in Maryland.

The son of a banker and the younger brother of a rabbi, Rothstein was a bad man to the bitter end. “Me mudder did it,” he told the cops when they pitched up at his deathbed to ask who shot him.

Thomas Lord, Yorkshire-born but a Londoner all his adult life, was engaged as a general skivvy at the White Conduit Club (WCC) in the days when gentlemen batted and professionals bowled.

Lord was, of course, a bowler among as ripe a collection of cricketing young and old farts as could be found.

In 1786 two of his supposed betters at the WCC, the ninth earl of Winchilsea and the fourth duke of Richmond, known by their titled peers as George Finch and Charles Lennox, tasked Lord, and backed him financially, with finding a ground that was less accessible by the public.

Among the motivations put forward for the move was that Joe and Joanne Soap were sometimes less than complimentary about the poncy players’ efforts. That’s right: what became, in 1787, the Marylebone Cricket Club (MCC) was snobbish even before it existed.

Importantly, entry to a ground that was less like a public park and more like today’s stadiums could be controlled by the sale of tickets — and that meant cricket’s burgeoning betting market could be kept from prying eyes and thus more easily manipulated.

After two false starts in other parts of London, what we call Lord’s — don’t forget the indelible apostrophe — opened for  business in June 1814.

And we do mean business. In 1793 alone one of the previous Lord’s grounds hosted 14 matches that attracted a total of 11 000 guineas — a guinea is a pound and a shilling — in bets.

Most of them would have been laid by the earls and dukes of the day, who had inherited money to burn unlike people who had to work for a living.

When the MCC assumed superiority over every organisation in cricket, just a year after the club was founded, their rendition of the laws included regulations on gambling, as had two previous versions issued by other clubs.

You can see where this is going. In 1785, Finch himself — remember him, the ninth earl of Winchilsea — recruited Billy Beldham, then 19 and on his way to becoming a revered player, having seen him in action a year earlier.

In an interview with James Pycroft, a noted writer on cricket, in 1836, Beldham was quoted as saying, “You may hear that I sold matches. I will confess I once was sold myself by two men, one of whom would not bowl, and the other would not bat, his best, and lost 10 pounds.

“The next match, at Nottingham, I joined in selling, and got my money back. But for this once, I could say I never was bought in my life; and this was not for want of offers from C [sic] and other turfmen, though often I must have been accused.

“For where it was worthwhile to buy, no man could keep a character; because to be out without runs or to miss a catch was, by the disappointed betting-men, deemed proof as strong as Holy Writ.”

Which sounds a bit like Hansie Cronje blaming the devil for making him do it. Perhaps South Africa’s crooked captain should have blamed the British aristocracy instead.

Pycroft held up cricket as the epitome of life as a Victorian gentleman: “Cricket is essentially Anglo-Saxon, … Foreigners have rarely imitated us. English settlers everywhere play at cricket; but of no single club have we heard that dieted either with frogs, saur-kraut [sic] or macaroni.”

But, odd ideas and all, he knew corruption when he saw it: “Lord’s [at the turn of the 19th century] was frequented by men with book and pencil, betting as openly and professionally as in the ring at Epsom, and ready to deal in the odds with any and every person of speculative propensities.”

Rothstein, had he been old enough at the time and on the right side of the Atlantic, would doubtless have jumped in, expensive shoes and all, at Lord’s with offers that couldn’t be refused to make sure the ball bounced his bank balance’s way.

Not a lot has changed, except that betting companies now sponsor teams and advertise on mainstream sport websites.

And that the gambling industry has grown exponentially in the internet age. Globally, the online sport and gaming betting business is set to be worth almost US$60-billion by 2020, and most of it will be spent from half a world away by people watching television.

This also holds true in the bricks-and-mortar world. Show me a betting shop and I will show you walls covered in televisions beaming events thousands of kilometres distant. True story: on April 2, 2011 — the day of the cricket World Cup final between Sri Lanka and India in Colombo — I walked into a gambling den in Galle, Sri Lanka and was able to watch live racing from Turffontein, Johannesburg.  

Maybe Rothstein wouldn’t have been shot had he been playing poker from behind a screen in 1928.

Maybe Lord would have cut to the chase and become an online bookmaker, and Lord’s wouldn’t exist.

But it’s no maybe that sport and gambling are as wedded to each other now as they were then, and will be long after television is obsolete and every game we watch — and bet on — is streamed online, perhaps even from empty stadiums.

Don’t think so? Want to bet on it?

‘Looming crisis’, ’red flag’, ‘tipping point’ in cricket’s struggle for its soul

Sunday Times


TELFORD VICE in London

THREE notable figures emerged from the most storied building in cricket and made their way across the game’s grandest greensward on a golden afternoon.

Two wore dark grey jackets, flanking their comrade in his finely chequered blazer. The Marylebone Cricket Club’s (MCC) infamously garish bacon-and-egg tie gleamed from one of their necks. From another’s, the understated MCC city tie — the club’s elegant, angular crest on a navy background. Below the third neck hung a tie nondescript but for the impression that it had, years ago, been used to mop up a puddle of tomato sauce and hadn’t been washed since.

One’s hair was wispy and white with the wisdom of his 75 years. Next to him bobbed a head of mid-brown gelled spikiness. Then came a mane of jet black, billowing lightly on the breeze.

Their amble had an agelessness about it. They would have looked like they looked had they stepped out of the Lord’s pavilion and crossed the outfield on any golden afternoon between 1890 — when the building was completed — and today, give or take a few sartorial segues.

But Mike Brearley, the chair of MCC’s world cricket committee, and Brendon McCullum and Ramiz Raja, two of the committee members, were on their way to deliver to the reporters in the space age pressbox across the ground a thoroughly modern message.

In a conversation with the press that lasted more than half-an-hour, the phrase “looming crisis” became a refrain. There was also talk of a “red flag” and a “tipping point”.

“The game is facing if not a crisis [then] a looming potential crisis,” Brearley said. “This crisis needs to be noticed and taken seriously.

“The committee is worried that with the spread of privately owned T20 leagues and the rapid increase in remuneration, more players from countries lacking the funds to pay them well will choose these tournaments ahead of making themselves available for their countries.”

AB de Villiers was, of course, a case in point because of his decision not to play in South Africa’s test series against New Zealand, the current rubber against England and the coming engagement with Bangladesh.

What about the India and Australia series? Who knows.

“AB is a slightly unique situation but it’s another red flag [for test cricket],” McCullum said.

“We feel the development of these T20 leagues around the world has put pressure on players to make decisions when the test game is actually in really good stead.

“Last year’s statistics of 48 wins out of 52 tests played shows that, but it is important we look at the long-term sustainability of test cricket, ensuring it is still loved around the world. There is a feeling that in some countries test cricket is under pressure.”

Hang on a second, Mr McCullum. Isn’t it rich of you to voice that view and indeed sit on a committee that would seem to have the best interests of the game at heart when you are getting, well, rich from playing in T20 leagues? Aren’t you part of the problem?

“It’s not guys at the end of their career as much as guys from countries who don’t get paid enough money or get treated appropriately, and maybe do not get the opportunities they require,” McCullum said. “That’s where the T20 leagues become very attractive.

“It’s a matter of those countries being able to compensate those guys appropriately, so these T20 leagues are seen as something that can exist but the priority remains international cricket.

“The tipping point now is choosing T20 leagues or international cricket.”

De Villiers would seem to have made that choice, at least in terms of test cricket.

Speaking of which, it seems important to acknowledge that the very outfield that Brearley, McCullum and Raja had traversed would, later in the week, be the scene of the sweeping drama of the first test between England and South Africa.

Let’s watch this series with the respect, attention and wonder it deserves. We don’t know how many are left.