Sambit Bal

Dravid lbw Tremlett: unfortunate for the batsman, maybe, but bully for the bowler © Getty Images

Just after Rahul Dravid had been given out lbw in the second innings at Lord's by Simon Taufel, a colleague wondered if he should be recalled. The television replays showed that the impact had been fractionally outside the off stump, and since Dravid looked like he was playing a stroke, he shouldn't have been given out.

My colleague's argument was based on a similar situation in England's first innings. It has now been famously recorded that Kevin Pietersen was given out caught behind by Taufel and was then stopped from leaving the field by his team-mates who had seen on the video replay that the edge hadn't carried. The on-field umpires then consulted their colleagues in the box who ruled Pietersen not out.

Actually, the situations weren't similar. The Pietersen decision was about a catch taken on the bounce. Dravid's was a leg-before decision. And there is a fundamental difference there.

Umpires are granted sovereignty over leg-before decisions and that's the way it should be, not merely because one of cricket's romantic ideals rests on it but because of the predictive nature of the business. If mistakes are to be made - and there are margin of errors with HawkEye, which relies on humans to operate cameras and make projections - it is far more palatable to have these made by umpires than a supposedly infallible machine. HawkEye is a magnificent tool for television, and that's all it should be when it comes to cricket.

But has HawkEye had a positive influence on the way umpires make decisions? We'll come to this later.

Dravid was unfortunate to be given out, but only marginally so. Cricket follows the criminal-justice system, which grants the benefit of the doubt to the batsman, but personally I don't really mind the odd batsman given out this way. Dravid was beaten, and though the impact was just outside the line, the ball was going on to hit the stumps. It would have been another matter if the ball was going down leg, but in this case there was some reward for the bowler who had bowled a ball good enough to beat the batsman. Batsmen get away with a lot these days; many have mastered to subtle art of dragging the front foot outside the off stump and pretending to play a stroke.

Collingwood gets a good stride in against Kumble at Lord's, but it isn't quite enough © Getty Images

Nonetheless it was significant that so many were given, and even though the spinners didn't get that many, the one that Anil Kumble did get points to a happy story. Paul Collingwood went full stretch forward, but Kumble beat him on length and the ball speared into the pad. There was not much doubt about where the ball was headed, yet few umpires would have favoured the bowler a few years ago. But Taufel is a modern umpire who doesn't mind giving the batsman out on the front foot, and with that dismissal Kumble became the bowler with the highest number of lbws, beating the record of another spinner - who else but Shane Warne.

No other spinner in recent history has had a wider range of deliveries designed to trap batsmen leg-before than Kumble, but to Warne must go the credit of convincing umpires that it isn't a sacrilege to award front-foot lbws. His stature helped, but Warne also perfected the art of appealing; combining the force of his personality with impeccable timing he half-coaxed and half-intimidated umpires into choosing in his favour. His flipper acquired an aura of its own, and few batsmen had a chance after he had suckered them.

Of course, umpires in the subcontinent were far more liberal with the front-foot lbw to begin with. For one, they were exposed to a lot more spin bowling, and also, on low-bouncing wickets in their parts, once the path of the ball had been judged, it was easier to hand out decisions in favour of the bowlers.

This wasn't always the case with umpires who had less experience of spin bowling. It was as late as last year that Brian Jerling, a South African umpire standing only in his second Test series, drove Kumble and his team-mates batty by negating appeal after straightforward appeal. Indian won the series 1-0, but Greg Chappell, then India's coach, reckoned that the margin would have been larger had Kumble not been denied.

Monty Panesar had a happier experience against the same opponents this summer because he had umpires far more responsive to his supplication.

If mistakes are to be made - and there are margin of errors with HawkEye, which relies on humans to operate cameras and make projections - it is far more palatable to have these made by umpires than a supposedly infallible machine. HawkEye is a magnificent tool for television, and that's all it should be when it comes to cricket

In all fairness it must be said that it was a South African umpire who was one of the early radicals when it came to lbws. Dave Orchard got some stick for his howlers, but he was a bowlers' umpire who was brave enough to rule by his instincts than play it safe. He took it too far at times, perhaps, and he once ruled Sourav Ganguly lbw after he had had jumped down a few paces against Muttiah Muralitharan. Ganguly had made no attempt to play a stroke and in Orchard's eye he had deliberately used his pads to intercept the path of the ball as it headed for the stumps. Ganguly was mortified and the decision got Orchard plenty of flak, but it was a brave one, and it was a warning to batsmen prone to using their pads as the first line of defence.

Believe it or not, HawkEye could be another factor. A leading umpire, whose name I cannot reveal because the conversation was private, once told me that he was emboldened to give front-foot lbws after he was exposed to HawkEye projections. "It got everybody, spectators, players and umpires used to the idea," he said. "Earlier I would have played safe, but it was far more okay to give a batsman not out on the front foot than to give him out. But now I'm confident of going with my first impression because I know the graphic will support my decision."

Numbers support the hypothesis that umpires have been more inclined towards handing out lbws in recent years, and that they have been favourably disposed towards giving lbws in favour of spinners. In the seven years since 2000, spinners have won 597 lbw dismissals out of a total of 11,113 dismissals of all types, which is 5.37 per cent. In all, lbws have accounted for 17.1 per cent of dismissals. The corresponding figure is 3.68 per cent (400 out of 10,564) in the 1990s, 2.77 per cent (215 out of 7734) in the 1980s, and 2.87 per cent (226 out of 5578) in the 1970s.

Not a lot has favoured the bowlers, spinners in particular, in the recent past. Bats have got heavier and more powerful, boundaries have got shorter, and rules have been amended to suit batsmen. It's good to know umpires have done their bit to redress the balance somewhat.

Jayaditya Gupta

The BCCI's chief objection to the ICL is that television programming is involved, which means the league treads on the board's turf © AFP

The chatter is louder than Matt Prior in full flow: Brian Lara is on board, Shane Warne has expressed his desire to jump on and is that Glenn McGrath in the distance? There's a possibility that these three, and other stars, will play Twenty20 cricket - itself a novelty - in India as part of the Indian Cricket League (ICL). Though all three have retired from international cricket, Warne is active on the county circuit, Lara looks to have gas in his tank still, and anyone who saw McGrath bowl in his last international match, the World Cup final, would find it hard to believe that he has reached pensionable age.

That's only half the story; the other half is the ICL's running battle with the Board for Control of Cricket in India, aka the Bureaucratic Custodians of Cricket in self-Interest. The BCCI has rejected the idea of the ICL and has asked everyone it has control over - which is pretty much the entire cricket establishment, home and away - to steer clear. Or else.

The board's proprietary stand over cricket in India is, at the very least, at odds with ground realities. The farcical way it runs the national team is well known; less documented, though perhaps more damaging, is how it runs all other levels of cricket in the country. And all other aspects, from umpires to ground scheduling.

The board's objection has little to do with the ICL being a privately run league. There are hundreds of those in India; among the most famous are Mumbai's Times League and Kanga League, which have coexisted with the official system for years, functioning as finishing schools for some of Mumbai's best players, and hugely benefiting Indian cricket. The key difference between those and the ICL is this: the ICL involves television programming, and so treads directly on the BCCI's turf. All else flows from there.

The ICL will be based on the Twenty20 game, the least developed of cricket's three formats in India. The first edition of the BCCI's own Twenty20 tournament sank without a trace, shunted to the end of the domestic calendar last season, when it was in direct competition to the World Cup in the Caribbean. Few recall who won, fewer still care. Least of all, apparently, the BCCI itself: India's provisional squad for the Twenty20 World Championship in South Africa later this year has precisely three representatives from the two domestic finalist teams. That's three among 30 players, and it's anyone's guess if any will make the final cut.

The board can outsource the administration of Twenty20 cricket to the ICL, and let the new league throw up a pool of players who can be cherry-picked for the national team. Unlike the established players, they will have specialised in the shortest version of the game

The BCCI has never been hot on nurturing a system; the rise of one-day cricket in India - even the World Cup victory 24 years ago - has been more by accident than design. By embracing the ICL, the board can feed off a system that is already in place and is effectively someone else's headache. This way, it can focus on its core competence - making money.

Over in the West Indies, the umbrella cricket board has, after a year's resistance, bought into Allen Stanford's vision for cricket in the region. Last year the West Indies Cricket Board (WICB) stymied the grand finale of the Stanford 20/20 tournament, an all-stars game between the best of the West Indians and a South African side for a $5million purse. Stanford bit his lip and tried again, and the upshot is that the next season has the WICB on board, Cricket Australia and Cricket South Africa interested, and the ICC worried.

The ICL's biggest problem currently is the lack of a venue, with the BCCI leaning heavily on those who own stadiums, at home or abroad, to close all doors to the rebels or risk losing India matches. But the ICL can well flex its own muscles and simply make the down payment on a ten-year lease. Money is not the problem now, and the suits at the BCCI are amateurs against the industrial strength of the Zee group, the ICL's backers.

The ICL has a role model in Allen Stanford, who has his own ground in Antigua © Neil Manthorp

Zee can learn from Stanford here. If the BCCI continues to hold out and play the neighbourhood bully, the ICL, which has already tied up with a leading infrastructure development company, could simply build its own workspace. Stanford's complex, near the airport in Antigua, includes a cricket ground, banks, restaurants, a health club with swimming pool, gym, and aerobics studios; a hotel and conference centre are in the works.

In fact, there is a precedent closer home, in the form of the Sahara group, which has built a plush mini-city in the forbidding rocky hills near Pune in western India, and then attracted a host of big names in sport - Daley Thompson, Anna Kournikova, Boris Becker, Nadia Comaneci and Edwin Moses among them - as brand ambassadors.

Other problems, including hiring players, can be dealt with similarly. The BCCI could yet be hoisted by its own petard: its failure to invest in a cricketing culture, and the resulting lack of viable opportunities for former cricketers, could make any option seem attractive. The carrot of a pension when they eventually retire - approximately Rs 35,000 a month - will not mean as much to a Ganguly or a Laxman as the chance of playing with some big names.

That it should come down to this zero-sum game is a pity. Indian cricket is big enough for two players, or 20, or 200, and it would help if they were pulling in the same direction. Instead of cutting its nose off to spite its face, the BCCI should wake up and smell the coffee - and the opportunity.

Mahendra Singh Dhoni acquitted himself well despite his technical difficulties against the moving ball © Getty Images

Sambit Bal

Did India really deserve to save the Test? You could say their bowlers did, for after a shocking opening session when they were affected as much by nerves as by lack of practical knowledge about overcoming and using the unique slope at Lord's, they exceeded expectations. You could also hand it to Dinesh Karthik, a young man thrust into a difficult job, who showed both skill and heart, and Mahendra Singh Dhoni, who rose above his technical difficulties against the moving ball to hang in there. India owes this draw to these unlikely saviours and the benevolence of the weather.

But there is a story within a story. India's three fifties in this Test came from the weakest links: Wasim Jaffer, who came to this Test on the back of three failures; Karthik, who is not a opener; and Dhoni, who had batted like a tailender in the first innings. In the end, to hold out for 96 overs was creditable because it was always going to rain. In fact, it was a surprise that it didn't rain sooner than it did on day five. But what of the men who were expected to deliver for India?

India's mighty middle order came up against England's most enfeebled pace attack in a home Test since 1993 and managed only 192 runs. That's an average of 24. James Anderson cannot be denied credit. He bowled with intelligence and control but the conditions, while challenging, were never impossible. The first-innings score of 201 was probably 150 short of what was achievable.

Is it too early to make a reassessment of India's batting strength? Wasn't it a similar story in 2002, when the Indian middle order collapsed twice to lose them the Test at Lord's, only to reveal its full splendour in the matches that followed? That series, in fact, heralded a golden run for India lasting about 18 months. Now that they have the breathing space of a draw behind them, can they not be expected to flower again?

They well may, for far more unlikely things have happened in cricket. If you're a betting man, though, don't put your money on it yet. This is a batting order that has long lived on reputation; three years, to be precise. Not since the tour of Pakistan in early 2004 has India's middle order earned the right to be termed mighty.

Let's dispense with the numbers first. In Test matches since that series, Sachin Tendulkar averages 45.67, Sourav Ganguly 36.24 and VVS Laxman 33.70. But even these numbers hide the reality for none them has failed to cash in on weak opponents. Three of Tendulkar's last four hundreds - including a career-best 248 - have come against Bangladesh, Ganguly has scored hundreds against Zimbabwe and Bangladesh, his only centuries since a stirring 144 against Australia at Brisbane in 2003, and Laxman has got a hundred against Zimbabwe. Remove these runs and the story is dire. Tendulkar's average dips to 31.19, Ganguly's to 29.40 and Laxman's to 32.19.

Increasingly it looks likely that this is what India's once-glittering middle order is capable of providing in demanding conditions: battling thirties and the odd half-century. That's what Tendulkar, Laxman and Ganguly provided at Lord's and that's what they did against Australia, Pakistan and South Africa in 2004-05, and against South Africa earlier this year. More than 20 Tests in the space of three years is a long enough sample period to present a pattern and, despite what the rest of this series might bring, it's about time to bury the myth about India's middle order.

India's batting in recent years has been about two men. One of them isn't here. Despite his failure in South Africa, Virender Sehwag averages 46.89 in Tests since May 2004 and, incredibly, his average goes a couple of points higher if you remove his Tests against Zimbabwe.

The other is Rahul Dravid, who averages nearly 50 without his runs against Zimbabwe and Bangladesh. India missed a big innings from him in South Africa. It was the first time since 2000 that he'd gone through a series without a half-century and it perhaps cost India the series. In both innings at Lord's he was dismissed without getting in, which is not something that can be said about Tendulkar, Laxman and Ganguly.

Batsmen who get into the 30s can't be described as out of form. But the failure to push on from there must point to something. Has the process of survival become so onerous that it is draining away the mental resources needed to construct more substantial innings? Can the body no longer endure the rigour? Is it a combination of both?

Indian cricket would be living in denial if it fails to acknowledge the decline. Cherish their golden years but don't expect them to light up a wet summer.

Anderson, Sidebottom and Tremlett sound more likely to draw up a man's will than to threaten his wicket © Getty Images

Cricket holds fewer mysteries than it used to, for several reasons. The commentators and their gizmos do a fine job of explaining it. One team can study another on their laptops. And they all meet more often than they once did. But some mysteries remain. Why does Geoffrey Boycott
keep telling you that what he is telling you is something he told you earlier? Why does no country pick a different team for the different game of Twenty20? And why do the Indian galacticos keep getting out to English greenhorns?

At Lord's, three of the big four fell in the first innings to Jimmy Anderson and one to Ryan Sidebottom. In the second, Rahul Dravid fell cheaply to Chris Tremlett (albeit unluckily, as the commentators and their gizmos soon showed), Sachin Tendulkar managed only one great shot,
and although Sourav Ganguly and VVS Laxman played their part in The Great Escape, neither was exactly MS Dhoni. England were missing their four first-choice seamers, yet India were bowled out for 201 in the first innings by the makeshift firm of Sidebottom, Anderson, and Tremlett, who sound more likely to draw up a man's will than to threaten his wicket.

Admittedly, the ball swung, and the bowlers controlled it well, in a way that Andrew Flintoff could have done with when he was trying to stop the flood of Aussie runs last winter. And you can't read too much into one match: the big names may well lord it in the next Test. But there is a pattern here. England have now done the same thing in four series running against India.

They have needed to, because every time they have been missing key bowlers. In 2001-02, Darren Gough and Andy Caddick both declined to tour for different reasons; they never did remotely resemble one another. Poor old Nasser Hussain was left with a new-ball attack of
Matthew Hoggard (playing his third Test) and the young Flintoff (looking for his eighth wicket), backed up by Craig White (as much a batsman as a bowler in India) and, for one match,
Jimmy Ormond (talented, but never given time to show it). Somehow Hussain made something out of this motley crew, and although England lost the first Test, they held their own in the other
two.

In 2002, Hussain was again missing Gough for the whole series, and Caddick for the first two Tests. The new ball was again taken by Hoggard and Flintoff, supported by White and a brand-new fourth seamer: Simon Jones, who showed some raw promise (partly with the bat).
This ragbag, plus Ashley Giles, somehow bowled India out for 221 on a flat Lord's pitch. England, awash with hundreds, set India 568 to win and bowled them out for 397. Ajit Agarkar made a hundred; the big four - or five, if you count Virender Sehwag - didn't.

For the rest of that series, the superstars reassserted themselves. Dravid made an immense hundred at Headingley, Tendulkar and Ganguly emulated him, Sehwag merrily blasted the shine off the new ball, only Laxman struggled, and India fought back to 1-1.

Back in India, this trend might have been expected to continue, although this time England's injuries were mainly to batsmen - their captain and vice-captain, Michael Vaughan and Marcus Trescothick.

Flintoff took over, and he began with a decent hand of seamers - Hoggard, Harmison and himself, but no Jones. With Hoggard putting his hand up, as the players say, the galacticos mostly flopped: India were kept in the first Test only by runs from Wasim Jaffer, Mohammad Kaif and Anil Kumble, with Dravid helping secure the draw in the second innings. A match of no hundreds at Mohali was won by two bowlers, Kumble and Munaf Patel - who showed that Englishmen too could be susceptible to a debutant.

The series was India's for the taking at Mumbai, even when England made 400. Flintoff was once again forced to take the new ball with Hoggard because Harmison was now injured. Anderson was drafted in as third seamer, and did so well (4 for 40) that he opened the bowling in the
second innings, when an unexpected combination of Flintoff, Anderson, Shaun Udal and the late Johnny Cash shot India out for 100.

Hoggard finished the series with 13 wickets at 17. Tendulkar averaged 20, Sehwag 19, and Laxman, who played one Test, didn't get off the mark. Ganguly was out of favour and only Dravid, who averaged 61, was himself.

It's not just England who get away with pitting understudies against these titans. The bowlers who have done best against India this decade include half-forgotten names like Daryl Tuffey (21
wickets at 16) and Cameron Cuffy (28 at 28). Nor is it just seamers. Besides Udal, Michael Vaughan has flourished against India, taking 4 for 120, while managing 2 for 417 against everyone else. In 2001-02, Richard Dawson managed a Test four-for at Mohali. And once Michael Clarke of Australia took six-for with his occasional slow left-arm.

The Indian stars are sometimes accused of being grand, but in Tests against England it is only Ashley Giles (11 wickets at 50) who has incurred their disdain. With the exception of Dravid, they seem unable to dominate. It's as if they know they are Goliaths, so they freeze when any little David comes into view. Anderson, a pie-thrower against Australia, was transformed into a world-beater at Lord's.

In their last 11 Tests against India, England have fielded 13 front-line seamers, with only Hoggard and Flintoff making more than five appearances. In the first innings at Lord's, India's big names were not just unsuccessful but tentative. With the ball moving around corners, the game was there to be won by one attacking partnership. They couldn't produce it; Kevin Pietersen and Matt Prior did.

Individually, they have good-looking records against England since 2001. Dravid averages 65, Tendulkar 52, Ganguly 48, Sehwag and Laxman 32, so together they average 47. But given their class, and the bowlers' lack of it, that figure should be 57. Shane Warne never bothered these guys, but show them a journeyman county seamer and the galaxy falls to earth.

Ramnarine finds himself without the necessary resources or history to help him © Trinidad & Tobago Express

Vaneisa Baksh

A couple of decades ago, the West Indies Players' Association (WIPA) was formed, but it was so demure that it was rarely heard in public.

As the cricket industry developed worldwide, players' associations became more assertive and involved, restructuring relationships between players and their paymasters - be they cricket boards, sponsors, or endorsement seekers. This introduced a new role: that of a quasi-trade unionist with some cricket pedigree, and often an additional business-related skill. These board-busters have been shaking up the establishment for a decade, steadily improving contract terms and payments for cricketers.

For the past ten years Australian cricketers have been enjoying the best of everything, and it is no coincidence that it followed heavy investment in development programmes, or that the Australian players' association is powerful and respected.

Over that same period West Indies cricket has been at its lowest; and although WIPA has expanded its activities and interests, and grown more vociferous and assertive, respect and power for the organisation seem elusive.

It is tempting to conclude that the missing element here is development, but if you study the nature of the repeated contretemps between the West Indies Cricket Board (WICB) and WIPA, you will find at alpha points that there is a general misunderstanding of roles and responsibilities. As their worlds evolve, neither side really knows what the other is supposed to do. Hunker this down with the traditional relationship - where boards call the shots and players are mere minions, where there is no culture of discussion, and where social and political networks draw the lots for positions of power - and it becomes easier to understand the inevitability of clashes.

There is no history of partnerships to guide negotiations between the two, and as they encounter new dimensions to managing cricket, the complexity of the tasks confuse them. And because they do not trust each other, their instincts are to indulge in sophistry and cunning to score public points as they gamble on the chance that the other might be wrong.

The behaviour defining the relationship between the WICB and WIPA is precisely of the sort that one should expect of parties who lack confidence in their own competence. Because they are unable to let go of the old ways and hold hands to better navigate the new, they cannot accept that neither entity on its own can rise to the challenges of our times.

This is the heart of the problem that has emerged like a Medusa gone wild between the WICB and WIPA.

It is easy to just scrape at the first layer of muck and ascribe blame to the manner of the people at the forefront. Given their deportment, one is scarcely challenged to search beyond. On the one hand there is the WIPA President, Dinanath Ramnarine, a former Test player, who rubs many people the wrong way by the belligerence that lies just beneath his skin.

Ramnarine has many ideas about broadening the ambit of WIPA to include several educational and development programmes for players. He genuinely wants to see the lot of the cricketer improved - perhaps this might be connected to his own feeling that he was unfairly forced out of West Indies cricket - and he works hard in pursuit of this. But Ramnarine has found himself in waters without boundaries or buoys and his organisation has not had the necessary resources or history to help him. He has been doing much of the work on his own, and although he has found help, he is still stretched thin.

He has brought a tremendous amount of energy to the role, and while that is vital, his frenetic aura can be disconcerting. Conversations with him can leave one dazed as he streams from one topic to the other, and one cannot imagine him pausing ever, so torrential are his outbursts.

Ramnarine has many ideas about broadening the ambit of WIPA to include several educational and development programmes for players. He genuinely wants to see the lot of the cricketer improved - perhaps this might be connected to his own feeling that he was unfairly forced out of West Indies cricket - and he works hard in pursuit of this

Ramnarine does not trust the WICB, and if one were to check the record of their dealings for the past five years or so of his tenure, it is clear why. He has had little reason to, and given his prior relationship with the board and its functionaries (remember, he retired at 28, having played in 12 Tests and taken 45 wickets with some pretty good legspin) there is nothing really to suggest there will be any improvement without fundamental changes.

But despite talk by the WICB's outgoing president, Ken Gordon, that the recently appointed Governance Committee was the most important ever established, the board is not in a hurry to institute the changes the committee has recommended - not when one of those was that the board should give way to a more representative body.

The latest slew of exchanges between the board and WIPA revealed the nature of the tension between them. Ramnarine has charged the board with reneging on terms of their MOU, particularly with regard to including WIPA in negotiations affecting players. Gordon has accused Ramnarine of basically cussing off everyone and calling them liars.

In print Ramnarine has been careful to stick to issues, though it is quite easy to imagine him throwing some bad words the board's way. This is what ticks them off mostly, it seems, since when it comes down to the issues at hand, the WICB really does not counter his charges with substance.

At this juncture, there is something to be gleaned from an interview on CaribbeanCricket.com with the former WICB Chief Cricket Operations Officer, Zorol Barthley. Barthley has accused the board of trying to save face in the dispute over interpreting what was included in the Future Tours Programme (FTP) by seeking to discredit him and tarnishing his reputation in the process. Barthley spoke of his good relations with Ramnarine, and of others who found him willing to argue a point amicably over a meal. Others have said the same of their dealings with Ramnarine.

Those who have found him obnoxious are those who have dealt with him in less than good faith. There are those, too, whose notions of social hierarchies are affronted by the idea of this little loudmouth daring to challenge the high and mighty. The Jamaica Gleaner, for example, recently posted two editorials writing off Ramnarine and WIPA. The first, in May, was over the issue of the FTP, and the Gleaner was clear: "Our position is that the WICB should pay the West Indies players not one red cent more. Nor should the board negotiate with WIPA. Mr Ramnarine, and whoever else, should be sent packing forthwith."

Ken Gordon has accused Ramnarine of basically cussing off everyone and calling them liars © Getty Images

Fuming at what it considered to be underperforming players seeking more money, it concluded that, "In the past, tough action by the WICB has not easily found favour with the Caribbean public. The board's own mismanagement robbed it of moral authority. This time, however, things are rather different. The West Indian public, we believe, would back the WICB and rebuff the arrogant posturing of WIPA and the players."

Recommendations that players should have performance-based packages are valuable, but are not linked to the issue of what constitutes tours or matches inside or outside the purview of the FTP. What comes across here is the general disgust over performance, and an attempt to blame WIPA for it. On July 18 the Gleaner got more personal after the Gordon/Ramnarine exchange.

"Whatever the reasons why he never quite made the grade as a Test player, Mr Ramnarine has transformed himself into a trade union leader, as the CEO of WIPA, negotiating on behalf of the players. His is a trade unionism of the old order; one encrusted, in our view, in an archaic confrontationalism rather than an attempt to build partnership and trust. Which is largely the point that has been made by Ken Gordon, the WICB president, in relation to Mr Ramnarine's latest salvo."

The next day, the Trinidad Express, a paper once headed by Gordon, echoed the Gleaner: "Mr Gordon has suggested to the WIPA president that the latter should engage in some honest self-analysis of his own style rather than seek comfort in the view that it is the style of everybody else which is wrong. The least Mr Ramnarine could now do is to consider, in a spirit of humility, whether Mr Gordon's assessment has any merit or whether he just happens to be always right."

Ramnarine's manner, said Gordon, "stymied" attempts to work together, and this is what exasperated leader writers have latched onto. But the root of it is more accurately traced to repeated breaches of trust in the course of the board's negotiations with WIPA.

Gordon's response has essentially been a reprimand to Ramnarine for speaking without finesse to his superiors, for not showing respect to authority. But the WICB does not show respect for WIPA either. Its brand new website carries the list of WIPA's executive from January 2001, listing Courtney Walsh as its president.

There is a culture that gives a ready ear to voices coming from the upper echelons, and were Ramnarine to speak from that position, I bet the response would have been different.

Allen Stanford poses the WICB the greatest challenge it has faced in the 80-odd years of its existence © Tropiximaging

Vaneisa Baksh

The ICC has apparently accepted a request from its "members" to act as intermediary between the West Indies Cricket Board and Allen Stanford in discussions on the proposed Stanford 20/20 tournament in 2008. A statement from the CEO Malcolm Speed said its members recognise the "potential benefits of the tournament for the development of cricket in the West Indies", but wished "to ensure that their participation in any event such as this will benefit as many of the game's stakeholders as possible..."

The interests to be protected are those relating to the Future Tours Programme (FTP) broadcast rights belonging to ESPN-Star Sports. After the difficulty in interpreting what was included in the FTP prior to the West Indies tour of England, it is clear which member's concerns are being addressed. Since Stanford's plan includes a television series, broadcast rights must be protected.

The ICC's concerns are not the only ones being aired. Carib Beer, a regional cricket sponsor, has fired brazen and bizarre questions at the tournament. Colin Murray, sponsor and events manager, objected to the Stanford tournament's timing, in January-February 2008, as he felt it would take precedence over their four-day regional competition, usually scheduled then. Alleging that Stanford had his own agenda and was more interested in his tournament than the development of West Indies cricket, Murray asked: "How is Stanford investing this money to ensure the West Indies Board operations are stable and will continue to benefit from his involvement? What type of funding will the West Indies Cricket Board be getting out of this?"

Murray could well have asked the same questions of his own firm, which has made its Carib girls celebrities at cricket grounds. Has Carib Beer invested in developmental programmes in any sustained way, if at all? If those same questions were asked of his company, he would very likely be the spokesman coming out to say that the responsibility for the development of West Indies cricket lies with the WICB and not a sponsor, and he might very well inflate a Carib bottle and have some Carib girls wine in front of it to emphasise his point.

The Trinidad Guardian, a paper belonging to the Ansa McAl Group which also owns Carib, wrote an editorial asking the same questions. "... Stanford must not be allowed to stage [sic] an event that prepares the regional team for international cricket. Test cricket remains the real thing," it said. "Stanford must allow the four-day tournament its way, as soon after that, the Australians will be here. His tournament would hardly be what is needed to prepare."

It advises the WICB to let Stanford know that he is only welcome if what he is doing is not in conflict with what the WICB is doing. One could say that given the type of practice the West Indies team had before its English tour - none - that there is no conflict here. But that would be facetious.

The editorial ends even more farcically. "And since he seems obsessed with only dealing with the cream of the crop, he owes it to the WICB to put something back into the other end of the scale, where the development is concerned."

To each of the 21 participating territories Stanford has provided US$100,000 in capital investment funding and US$180,000 for development for players and coaches, and support and maintenance of facilities and equipment. It sounds like a good deal: money specifically assigned for these purposes, and Stanford has set up auditing mechanisms to ensure that it is so used. There really is nothing to fear or disparage about the tournament, except that it threatens certain interests. And that is why Stanford's plans have catapulted the old boys' network into such a frenzy.

This month-long tournament is to yield its best players to form a Stanford Super Stars team. Stanford hopes to have four international teams in a knockout competition, with the finalist facing his Super Stars for US$ 20 million. Think about it: Antigua, sea, sun, sand, cricket, and matches featuring, say, Australia, India, South Africa and Sri Lanka. Sexy.

Last year the tournament was an unbridled success. The attention to detail, while impressive, was never oppressive or alienating. Proportionally it was far more popular, user-friendly and exciting than the World Cup that followed it. Stanford had declared a budget of US$28 million for that show. Now he is preparing to invest US$100 million over three years.

Last year's tournament might have been seen as a one-off caper that had been successfully contained when the West Indies Cricket Board thwarted the Super Stars clash. But the idea that Stanford has persevered, re-grouped, expanded, and is prepared to stay with it for five years at least must be sending shivers up and down many rigid spines.

Stanford's foray into cricket has come at a crucial time. West Indies cricket has been suffering for more than a decade. All key relationships are dysfunctional. Players, administrators, sponsors, coaches, and investors are bruised by the skirmishes that keep flaring up. Whatever money can be found after players and administrators pay their hotel-, travel-, meal- and bling bills, gets spent on damage control. Nothing is allocated for development.

Whatever spin the WICB puts on its takings from the World Cup, everyone knows they cannot recoup the investment; they simply do not know how. The event left a bitter aftertaste that no number of upbeat press conferences can erase.

Stanford's crime is not his contribution to West Indies cricket, it is his success. It comes at a critical moment in the saga of the West Indies. For every thing that Stanford does right, the WICB commits 10 wrongs, and people at the end of their patience are watching.

Whether Stanford timed his entry perfectly or not, his success last year has painted a picture of possibility. At the beginning, Stanford admitted that his knowledge of the game was minimal, that what he understood was how to make money. He engaged the services of an advisory board that comprised 14 (now 15, if you add Michael Holding) respected cricketers and made them his counsellors and ambassadors. They have been outstanding emissaries, guiding him through the complexities involved in dealing with territorial governments and presenting the overall development case in the bargain.

"The board thought it was imperative that we have the support of the governments in the region for the Stanford 20/20 initiative. After all, it is the cricket programmes in their territories that are benefiting from this investment that Sir Allen is making," said Wes Hall as they announced the plans. Hall ought to know that what constitutes the "best interests of the game" is purely a matter of who is defining it. Stanford's crime is not his contribution to West Indies cricket, it is his success.

It comes at a critical moment in the saga of the West Indies. For every thing that Stanford does right, the WICB commits 10 wrongs, and people at the end of their patience are watching. The WICB faces the greatest challenge in its 80 years of existence. For the first time, there is something on the horizon that threatens its life.