If time is of more virtue than money, then someone forgot to tell Sir Allen Stanford. The Texan billionaire landed his helicopter at Lords Cricket Ground last month to announce his grand plan for the future of World Cricket: An annual $20m winner-takes-all Twenty20 match between England and a West Indies all-star team competing under the rather tragic – not to mention egotistical – name of ‘Stanford Super Stars’.
Since its introduction a few years ago, Twenty20 has been met with great enthusiasm. The shorter, faster-paced form of cricket – which has been specifically designed to broaden the appeal of the game – has achieved impressive figures in both match-day attendance and TV audience. So much so, that billionaires like Sir Allen Stanford want to invest.
Before I begin what may seem like an unfair assault on Stanford and his plans, I would like to be clear that I do not entirely dislike Twenty20 – I do not consider myself a traditionalist, and I fully support the idea that cricket needs to shake off its image as a sport that is aristocratic and boring. Furthermore, I appreciate it is genuinely good entertainment – I particularly like the way they play music clips after a wicket, for example – and I understand its overall value to the sport of cricket in terms of intensifying both commercial interest and wealth obtained through broadcast rights, sponsorship etc. There is also the argument, of course, that it will increase levels of competition and performance at County level, as players are provided with a larger incentive to succeed.
That said, it is hard to take the new developments seriously. Stanford’s launch was phoney – so phoney, in fact, it resembled something of a game-show, not helped by the fact he insisted on being joined on stage by a rather large-looking crate of cash – the entire $20m, or so we are supposed to believe. The Next Generation Game, it could have been called.
Joking aside, there was something all rather sycophantic about the occasion. A number of former cricketing greats and ECB dignitaries adorned the stage – Viv Richards, Ian Botham, Nasser Hussain, Garfield Sobers and ECB Chairman Giles Clarke, to name but a few – all of whom took their turn to fawn after Stanford; the sales-pitch tone of Hussain and Botham, in particular, doing little to conceal the faux-ness of it all.
It is understandable that such individuals wish to endorse the proposal. No doubt, the financial opportunities surrounding Stanford’s plan will, both directly and indirectly, benefit anyone associated with the sport – increased broadcast right costs and sponsorships will lead to increased earnings for players, coaches, TV pundits, executives and so on. Such retribution should not be begrudged for an industry that has never been rich in the way that football is. But it would have been nice to see a slightly more honest response.
Sycophants and helicopters aside, it was more than just the day itself that left me feeling sceptical. Indeed, there are a number of assumptions that – implicit as they are – generally upset me about the whole Stanford Twenty20 concept and, more specifically, about the winner-takes-all approach.
Firstly, it sort of assumes that sport is only enjoyable if it is fast-paced and centred almost entirely around the notion of Attack. This, to me, is absolutely not what sport is about – least of all cricket – and I think this sends quite a depressing message to people that we should (or only have the capacity to) appreciate loud things that are shoved in our faces, and that fun only exists in the form of parties and fanfares, and that we are solely driven by quick, firework-like excitement as opposed to appreciating the many more intricate things in life or society.
The recent appointment of Kevin Pietersen as England Captain further demonstrates the growing presence and momentum of such an attitude. Pietersen is, for all his talent, a loud and ostentatious man; self-confident (if not a little arrogant) – a far cry from the understated Vaughan that preceded him as captain.
In fairness, both Twenty20 and Pietersen enthusiasts would argue the game promotes the philosophy that people should enjoy sport and, furthermore, that people should be expressive and positive in their general approach towards things. Such enthusiasts would also argue Twenty20 is not quite as primitive a sport as I am making out – the technical and tactical subtleties involved in traditional cricket also exist in the shorter game, of course. However, what Twenty20 is missing – or, at least, what the sport shows less appreciation for – is the way a game (in the form of a Test Match) develops and evolves strategically over an extended period of time; as two teams endure an exhausting battle of concentration, skill and patience. I think a lot of this is lost in Twenty20 and I think it’s a sad reflection of society that even a game like cricket has to be reduced to a sort of ‘Bish, Bash, Bosh’, Reality TV abbreviation of itself, impelled by a pantomime crowd.
In this respect – and without wishing to stray too far from the subject – it is worth considering that this mind-set is not, by any means, limited to sport. We live in a society that is, frankly, all too focused on immediacy and quick-fix successes: We can’t find time to make our own food – choosing, instead, to buy salad that comes ready-chopped, ready-washed and ready-to-go. It seems we can’t even wait for a person to mature – pushing teenage girls to super-stardom in search of a quick buck (take Britney Spears, JoJo or Miley Cyrus – granted, they are all American). If there is a short-cut to be taken, then someone, somewhere, will take it. Such short-cuts are – in many cases – progressive, but I am of the belief that some things aren’t meant to be sped up. Or hurried, for that matter.
Back to the cricket, and another concern I have with Stanford’s Twenty20 proposal, which is that it promotes the assumption that success only exists in relation to money. Furthermore, it assumes that our motivation to succeed at sport (as either participants or spectators) is dependant on the size of the financial prize at stake. Once again, I think this sends out a terrible message to people and is absolutely not what sport is all about. For me, sport is about teamwork and community; it’s about challenging yourself both individually and collectively; it’s about pride. None of these things have anything to do with money.
On the subject of money, there are also a number of practical issues surrounding Stanford’s Twenty20 plan – specifically in relation to the way in which the prize-money is distributed…
The first of which is that such a huge amount of money – $20m – especially in the form of a win bonus, does not necessarily lend itself well to cricket. Although it is ultimately a team game, there is too much scope for individual successes (or errors, for that matter) for money to be split equally, as is suggested it will be (winning players will each receive $1m, with another $2m split between the rest of the squad and coaches, leaving the remainder to be split equally amongst the national associations). The most explicit example of this would be to consider a case where one player gets a century and another gets a golden duck. Such a situation may very well lead to conflict and political tension within the team. Once again, this is not what cricket is about.
The threat of nepotism is also high, especially considering there is no contract system in place (such as that deployed in the lucrative Indian Premier League). This may seem a harsh denunciation – and one may argue there is a danger of this in all sports – but when you consider the squad will be chosen by a panel of selectors (currently led by Geoff Miller and Peter Moores) and given that even non-playing squad members from the winning side will secure a life-changing amount of money, it certainly seems more than possible that fallouts and political complications may occur if someone is or is not selected.
The significant factor here is that, unlike in football – where everybody at the highest level tends to be fairly rich – the margins are very different in cricket. With the exception of an elite few, the sport has not yet reached the upper level of riches that exists in other sports. As a result, there needs to be a better economic system in place for such dramatic financial injections as that of Allen Stanford’s.
With this in mind, I will be interested to see how the ECB and other National Governing Bodies respond to the foreseeable growth of Twenty20 in the next few years:
The formation of an English Twenty20 Premier League to compete with that of the IPL in India is, inevitably, the next step. Indeed, ECB Chairman Giles Clarke has now confirmed plans to establish a league (commencing in 2010), and discussions are in place to make Twenty20 an Olympic sport in time for London 2012. Clearly this is a sport of growing influence and, as long as the money generated and the attention that it receives is directed in the right way, then it can only be a positive thing for cricket. Longer-term focus must remain a priority, notably in relation to not over-compromising the integrity of the sport and maintaining high standards of 5-day cricket. Personally, I would be glad to see Twenty20 continue to prosper, but not at the expense of Test cricket.
Since its introduction a few years ago, Twenty20 has been met with great enthusiasm. The shorter, faster-paced form of cricket – which has been specifically designed to broaden the appeal of the game – has achieved impressive figures in both match-day attendance and TV audience. So much so, that billionaires like Sir Allen Stanford want to invest.
Before I begin what may seem like an unfair assault on Stanford and his plans, I would like to be clear that I do not entirely dislike Twenty20 – I do not consider myself a traditionalist, and I fully support the idea that cricket needs to shake off its image as a sport that is aristocratic and boring. Furthermore, I appreciate it is genuinely good entertainment – I particularly like the way they play music clips after a wicket, for example – and I understand its overall value to the sport of cricket in terms of intensifying both commercial interest and wealth obtained through broadcast rights, sponsorship etc. There is also the argument, of course, that it will increase levels of competition and performance at County level, as players are provided with a larger incentive to succeed.
That said, it is hard to take the new developments seriously. Stanford’s launch was phoney – so phoney, in fact, it resembled something of a game-show, not helped by the fact he insisted on being joined on stage by a rather large-looking crate of cash – the entire $20m, or so we are supposed to believe. The Next Generation Game, it could have been called.
Joking aside, there was something all rather sycophantic about the occasion. A number of former cricketing greats and ECB dignitaries adorned the stage – Viv Richards, Ian Botham, Nasser Hussain, Garfield Sobers and ECB Chairman Giles Clarke, to name but a few – all of whom took their turn to fawn after Stanford; the sales-pitch tone of Hussain and Botham, in particular, doing little to conceal the faux-ness of it all.
It is understandable that such individuals wish to endorse the proposal. No doubt, the financial opportunities surrounding Stanford’s plan will, both directly and indirectly, benefit anyone associated with the sport – increased broadcast right costs and sponsorships will lead to increased earnings for players, coaches, TV pundits, executives and so on. Such retribution should not be begrudged for an industry that has never been rich in the way that football is. But it would have been nice to see a slightly more honest response.
Sycophants and helicopters aside, it was more than just the day itself that left me feeling sceptical. Indeed, there are a number of assumptions that – implicit as they are – generally upset me about the whole Stanford Twenty20 concept and, more specifically, about the winner-takes-all approach.
Firstly, it sort of assumes that sport is only enjoyable if it is fast-paced and centred almost entirely around the notion of Attack. This, to me, is absolutely not what sport is about – least of all cricket – and I think this sends quite a depressing message to people that we should (or only have the capacity to) appreciate loud things that are shoved in our faces, and that fun only exists in the form of parties and fanfares, and that we are solely driven by quick, firework-like excitement as opposed to appreciating the many more intricate things in life or society.
The recent appointment of Kevin Pietersen as England Captain further demonstrates the growing presence and momentum of such an attitude. Pietersen is, for all his talent, a loud and ostentatious man; self-confident (if not a little arrogant) – a far cry from the understated Vaughan that preceded him as captain.
In fairness, both Twenty20 and Pietersen enthusiasts would argue the game promotes the philosophy that people should enjoy sport and, furthermore, that people should be expressive and positive in their general approach towards things. Such enthusiasts would also argue Twenty20 is not quite as primitive a sport as I am making out – the technical and tactical subtleties involved in traditional cricket also exist in the shorter game, of course. However, what Twenty20 is missing – or, at least, what the sport shows less appreciation for – is the way a game (in the form of a Test Match) develops and evolves strategically over an extended period of time; as two teams endure an exhausting battle of concentration, skill and patience. I think a lot of this is lost in Twenty20 and I think it’s a sad reflection of society that even a game like cricket has to be reduced to a sort of ‘Bish, Bash, Bosh’, Reality TV abbreviation of itself, impelled by a pantomime crowd.
In this respect – and without wishing to stray too far from the subject – it is worth considering that this mind-set is not, by any means, limited to sport. We live in a society that is, frankly, all too focused on immediacy and quick-fix successes: We can’t find time to make our own food – choosing, instead, to buy salad that comes ready-chopped, ready-washed and ready-to-go. It seems we can’t even wait for a person to mature – pushing teenage girls to super-stardom in search of a quick buck (take Britney Spears, JoJo or Miley Cyrus – granted, they are all American). If there is a short-cut to be taken, then someone, somewhere, will take it. Such short-cuts are – in many cases – progressive, but I am of the belief that some things aren’t meant to be sped up. Or hurried, for that matter.
Back to the cricket, and another concern I have with Stanford’s Twenty20 proposal, which is that it promotes the assumption that success only exists in relation to money. Furthermore, it assumes that our motivation to succeed at sport (as either participants or spectators) is dependant on the size of the financial prize at stake. Once again, I think this sends out a terrible message to people and is absolutely not what sport is all about. For me, sport is about teamwork and community; it’s about challenging yourself both individually and collectively; it’s about pride. None of these things have anything to do with money.
On the subject of money, there are also a number of practical issues surrounding Stanford’s Twenty20 plan – specifically in relation to the way in which the prize-money is distributed…
The first of which is that such a huge amount of money – $20m – especially in the form of a win bonus, does not necessarily lend itself well to cricket. Although it is ultimately a team game, there is too much scope for individual successes (or errors, for that matter) for money to be split equally, as is suggested it will be (winning players will each receive $1m, with another $2m split between the rest of the squad and coaches, leaving the remainder to be split equally amongst the national associations). The most explicit example of this would be to consider a case where one player gets a century and another gets a golden duck. Such a situation may very well lead to conflict and political tension within the team. Once again, this is not what cricket is about.
The threat of nepotism is also high, especially considering there is no contract system in place (such as that deployed in the lucrative Indian Premier League). This may seem a harsh denunciation – and one may argue there is a danger of this in all sports – but when you consider the squad will be chosen by a panel of selectors (currently led by Geoff Miller and Peter Moores) and given that even non-playing squad members from the winning side will secure a life-changing amount of money, it certainly seems more than possible that fallouts and political complications may occur if someone is or is not selected.
The significant factor here is that, unlike in football – where everybody at the highest level tends to be fairly rich – the margins are very different in cricket. With the exception of an elite few, the sport has not yet reached the upper level of riches that exists in other sports. As a result, there needs to be a better economic system in place for such dramatic financial injections as that of Allen Stanford’s.
With this in mind, I will be interested to see how the ECB and other National Governing Bodies respond to the foreseeable growth of Twenty20 in the next few years:
The formation of an English Twenty20 Premier League to compete with that of the IPL in India is, inevitably, the next step. Indeed, ECB Chairman Giles Clarke has now confirmed plans to establish a league (commencing in 2010), and discussions are in place to make Twenty20 an Olympic sport in time for London 2012. Clearly this is a sport of growing influence and, as long as the money generated and the attention that it receives is directed in the right way, then it can only be a positive thing for cricket. Longer-term focus must remain a priority, notably in relation to not over-compromising the integrity of the sport and maintaining high standards of 5-day cricket. Personally, I would be glad to see Twenty20 continue to prosper, but not at the expense of Test cricket.
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