Cricket Is All About Money Now

Cricket in the 1950s and 1960s, and contemporary cricket is like chalk and cheese by comparison. In the good old days, amateur cricket was often played in ‘gallis’, parks, and any ground or small area that was free.

Boundaries were arbitrarily predetermined and were defined by space available. Many teams could barely afford a quality bat and made do with a broken-bandaged bat that you bought in the ‘gujjli’ (junk market). The bats were slightly damaged and one had to use glue to squeeze into the cracks to fill the space.

But when the cracks in the bat became too large, we used fillers and dowels until the bats just came apart. We would then scramble together our pigmy savings to buy a new bat.

Our stumps were not made of wood and not as the classy versions they use in the Indian Premier League (IPL) now. They were charcoal/chalk-drawn outlines marked on a wall or electric pole to indicate the stumps and make-believe bails.

Cricket balls were costly and the cork ball did the job of being hard, and making us tough enough not to fear the red ball. We were injured sometimes but stuck on. Sometimes, a kind ‘Uncle’ in the colony would gift us some new equipment to be shared until we were kind-of fairly self-sufficient.

During test matches, whoever had a radio at home would invite friends to listen to the commentary. It improved in the transistor era. In community spirit, it was shared. We would sit under a tree and indulge in group listening. Each of us wanted the last word on analysis and functioned as self-declared experts.

On one occasion, I was gifted a book by my father for a decent academic performance. It was titled “How to play cricket” by Don Bradman. The book went for-one-night visits to the area where I lived and in the school I went to.

By the end of its life-time, perhaps a year, it had developed dog ears on almost every other page. Reading that got us to make-believe that we were playing copy-book cricket!

Then came television (black-and white) got to see live streaming, and see the faces of your heroes from close-up. By middle class standards, stadium tickets were priced rather high and many of us could not afford the cost of a ticket for a close-up of your favourite players.

If we managed to save some of our modest pocket money, we got in for the crucial day of the match. We sat on hard wooden chairs and it barely mattered. We just enjoyed our sandwiches, the cricket, and the proximity to our cricketing heroes. No smart phones to steal a picture or two.

Fast forward to this era! So much has changed. Cricket has transited from a simple common person’s game into a sophisticated and costly venture.

Even with all the expansive paraphernalia they now use, the highest paid cricketers easily get injured and even travel overseas for treatment. This resembles a colonial complex.

In the past decade alone, Cricket has expanded its base of massively affluent sponsors. Cricketers now get paid humongous packages. Add to that the big sponsorships where you see your cricketers advertising products.

In 2024 alone, a single franchise earned Rs 738 crores. Their top player earned 17 crore as fee. The lowest paid player took home 20 lakhs. And in the village where I live, they must make-do with bald tennis balls and rough terrain. That’s a scandalous injustice.

In more recent times, cricket and commerce have resolutely cemented their complementary interests with profit being the common denominator. The BCCI is a powerful corporate entity that ramps up big-time profits.

Cricket has made millionaires and multi-millionaires. In the cricket fraternity, it tends to be class-structured. If you’re a big name, you are not dropped for poor performances.

You can even take vacations and dump the team if you wish as long as you are in the good books of the ‘bosses’! The not-so-big names don't have this luxury. They risk getting benched or discarded, and their annual contracts could even be annulled.

And there class dimensions too. Some cricketers live in mansions, and own the classiest cars, motor bikes, and a few luxury homes.

The IPL was established in 2008 with eight teams in various cities (now ten) across India and cricket became an offshoot of capitalism rather than sport. One is baffled by the cricketing ideas that get introduced.

To put it harshly, they are prone to be repugnant and contradict the core spirit of the game. Players are reduced to objects that are bought and sold in auctions.

This year the notion of an ‘Impact substitute’ allows the captain to choose a substitute, known as the Impact Player, to replace a player from the starting XI. Feels like ‘shifting goal posts’ just to win. The Corporates, who are in it for profits alone, care two hoots for the essence of the game.

The Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI) stalwarts so keenly conceive multiple ways to fill their coffers. Shamefully, quite some of them can hardly hold a cricket bat; grip a ball to bowl some variety of spin, or swing.

Cinema stars too, who buy the franchises are not honest in claiming they are in it to promote sport. Cricket is just a derivative.

Cheerleaders are a feature that is not even remotely linked to cricket. The BCCI simply decided to ape American sport and use women as sex symbols (read, ‘cheerleaders’). How does all this connect to the spirit of cricket? You cannot use sexual-stereotypes to popularise cricket.

A mildly redeeming feature came a few years ago when the Pune team brought in sari-clad women and introduced Indian dancing. The cheerleaders add no value to the cricket and young women are reduced to mere sex-objects.

Within this theatre called the IPL, big names amass handsome amounts while the lesser known players must do with a comparative pittance. T-20 has over-commercialised the game, once referred to as ‘gentlemen’s game’.

Cricketers now earn towering amounts. You can take home multiple crores if you are a big name that will attract crowds. And if you are not a ‘brand-name’, you might just have to make-do with the bid you get called up for.

Eminent cricketers from the past are unequivocal. Real cricket is 5-day cricket. A test cricketer must qualify through playing at Ranji level.

I feel entertained by Test Cricket, and even Ranji/Duleep/Vijay Hazare matches etc. It’s classical and that bores the ones who want a result in 5 hours with frills attached.

At the risk of being judgmental, I would even question the quality of spectators. How many come with cricketing knowledge? T-20 has reduced cricket to an elitist space and a social statement!

If we are aiming at short and quick thrills, like baseball, why not choose Kabadi, Basketball, Kho-Kho, and a myriad of indigenous games which our girls and boys play in our lower-income areas and villages with make-do nets and any ball just to have a good time with some amazing skills. Or even invest in easy-investment ideas which are cost-friendly games football and Volleyball.

What India needs is an authentic Indian sports culture. Indigenous games are as thrilling as T-20 style cricket. Each requires acumen and skill, speed, strength, fitness, timing, sharpness of mind.

They could well make grand spectacles. Kabadi’s growing universality is an example. Well packaged but not vulgarised by excesses.

Critics have pointed out that they are concerned about the quality of cricket in the IPL and its effects on younger players. Their grouse is that young players are forgetting the concept of playing for long periods of time, valuing their wicket, spinners are no longer tossing up the ball, classic cover drives are being replaced by slogs over mid-wicket, etc.

They also believe that there is an overkill of Cricket and IPL games are losing their value. It now has a place in the Asian Games. It took a lot of lobbying to get this through.

International cricket goes on for 10 months a year. You don’t need to explore why more and more players are injury prone. The two-month IPL slot has the money and fame. It talks louder and exacerbates more social divisions.

Corporates are not only patronising the IPL, they are exclusively empowering elitism in cricket. It is disgusting to read reports that other countries in the International Cricket Council (ICC) feel they have little or no say when India wants its way.

The IPL profits and corporate sponsorship have made us despised. We are like the UN Security Council with a lone veto.

Has the IPL, with its glamour, resulted in young players forgetting the concept of playing for long periods of time, valuing their wicket, while spinners no longer toss up the ball, classic cover drives are replaced by slogs? The quality of cricket is at stake.

It is an unequal match between batters and bowlers with batters holding the upper hand. Worse, the magnetism of quick money and the thrill of the game ensnares youth in a vicious cycle of gambling addiction, adversely affecting their mental health and financial stability.

This is the scary story of over-commercialism and consumerism. The winners of the IPL are the corporate and rich Bollywood crowd. Franchises are investing with an eye of profit, not advancing sport. In the midst of all this, they close their eyes to betting and match fixing and the free flow of booze, even drugs.

The IPL will hopefully be a passing trend. Just like thousands have stopped viewing every IPL match public, craving for the IPL may just begin to fade. We might then find the classical cricketer returning to real cricket.

Modernity cannot be halted. Nor should it be abandoned. There must be some red lines. They have been crossed in this jamboree.

‘Sports for all’ and ‘all varieties of sport’ must be a National goal with commensurate funds allocated by the Union and State governments. From that foundation, we could build champions with recreational games as the foundation.

Who knows if India’s first gold medal will come from our rural areas and coastal folk and our tough and broad shouldered Haryana and Punjabi comrades? Notice how Kabadi teams are spread around Asia and find their place in the Asian Games. There are a hundred other games that have value and relevance to our culture.

In a country where there is endemic poverty, the T-20 circuit may elevate a few talented young people from hardship to riches. In a land of 1.4 billion, we can surely and firmly build the edifice of a sports culture built on foundations of natural capacities.

Cricket is not a religion. That claim is just another ‘jumla’. That 1.4 billion Indian cricket fans are overstated statistics which the corporate media use.

Yes, we brought home the World Cup. Then we splurged 125 crore on the winning team and support staff. The BCCI is not in the RTI net, so we will know what the financial transactions are. Suffice it to say, it is all so lavish against the backdrop of our social reality.

In this article, I have juxtaposed the World Cup victory/IPL gala with the appalling social indicators of the nation – a 10% privileged contrasted with 90% who eke out a living who have no access to decent standards in sport. Sports are not about big trophies and huge monies.

It must always lead to a spirit of wellness which demands social justice with development for all - first and last.

The question hangs back in my mind: In the context of inequalities which send millions hungry to bed night after night, the question must be asked: “What will the poor eat for breakfast tomorrow - The World Cup? “

Ranjan Solomon is a writer and human rights activist. Views expressed are the writer’s own.