While South Africa were losing to Australia on Sunday 13 June, I found myself watching a far more civilised game of cricket in utterly congenial surroundings. One of the most fortunate occurrences in my life is that, every year, Sir Paul Getty invites me to watch a match at his beautiful ground carved out of one of the Chiltern Hills; and it was there, in the company of innumerable distinguished cricketers and cricket-watchers, that I found myself able to discuss the import of the World Cup with people who know far more about the game than I do.
The match we were watching – Sir Paul’s XI against Jim Swanton’s Arabs – was the sort of occasion for which God specifically created cricket. One innings a side it may have been, but there were no funny clothes, no white balls, no limited overs, no bowling restrictions, no “wide” called every time a ball brushed the pad and went down the leg side, and it had Rory Bremner fielding sharply at square leg. In such surroundings it is easy to obtain a correct perspective on things.
“Wouldn’t it be better,” a former Cambridge blue of some distinction asked me, “if we abolished second elevens and scrapped these absurdly big county staffs, and instead had eight or nine professionals with the numbers made up from the best local club cricketers? Wouldn’t that give club cricket all the incentive it needs to improve? And are you seriously telling me that gifted amateurs who were picked for their counties, or for England, wouldn’t find sponsorship, either from their own employers or from somebody else?”
A group of City boys, their heads turned by what has happened in football’s Premiership, talked about buying a first-class club and actually instigating such reforms – and about promoting cricket better and using the county ground to promote exhibition matches. This column’s idea, raised last week, of inviting India and Pakistan to stay on here and play a Test series this summer, was commended. “If the ECB were serious about making money and getting people interested in the game, that’s exactly what they’d do. Of course there’d be a demand for it. Why are these boys so blinkered?”
Why indeed? I suppose they would argue, with the over- regulated civil service mentality which is proving cricket’s undoing, that we can’t have two Test series being played simultaneously in England because we’ve never had two Test series played simultaneously in England (the triangular series of 1912 was just that – triangular). But my God, cricket here needs a boost.
It may just get it if reports that Nasser Hussain is to succeed Alec Stewart as England captain prove to be correct. Hussain is the nearest thing English cricket has these days to Douglas Jardine, and Douglas Jardine is exactly what English cricket needs now. It may even be that by making him captain you will send out the message – which this column also called for last week – to thousands of talented young Asian boys in this country that they, too, have a chance of participating in the next World Cup, or the one after it, by playing for England.
There is a danger, though, that the cricketing disaster of the World Cup will distract our attention too much from the marketing disaster. The public imagination was not ignited, although there is some anecdotal evidence to suggest that a few small boys have been amused by the sight of all the coloured clothing and have found the white ball easier to follow. I’m sure it’s persuaded some lads to enjoy one-day cricket, but what are they going to think when they come across the first-class game, or even a genteel and enjoyable traditional performance such as Sir Paul Getty stages? My bet is they’ll go straight back to watching Gladiators instead, or to playing with their computer games until they’re old enough for their first Ecstasy tablet. It is one thing to encourage children to like cricket, but they need to like it for the right reasons and with a proper appreciation of its heritage. Otherwise the ties that bind will be too fragile to be sustained.
The failure of the ECB to raise sufficient cash from sponsorship, to engage public enthusiasm and even to stage matches for which there was a great demand for tickets on grounds big enough to accommodate a decent smattering of real people raises big questions about their fitness to run the game. I don’t see these problems in isolation. They are part of the same incompetence that ensures that many championship matches, by beginning on a Wednesday, are often over by Saturday, the only day when most punters under 65 get a chance to watch proper cricket. They are part of the same blinkeredness that prevents the appointment of a proper supremo with all-round authority for the Test side.
They are part of the same inability to think about the game that allows counties to share in huge pots of money every season, distributed as a central subsidy, irrespective of how badly they play, thereby giving them no incentive to improve. One of the institutions most in need of Thatcherism was English cricket; and yet, with its subsidy culture, overmanning and sod-the-public attitude, the game remains gloriously untouched by modern economic rigour.
The World Cup may not have led to any glory for England, but it may yet have a happy by-product. It may make such an irresistible case for ruthlessness and clear thinking that even the present administration acquires the self-knowledge it needs for reform. Put Ian Botham in charge of it if that’s what it takes, but for God’s sake do something. At this rate no one will be watching county cricket within a few years except as a condition of a community service order. If the failings of the World Cup do not at last make someone in authority take notice, then we may as well forget the whole idea of professional cricket and thank God even more than we do already for Sir Paul Getty.
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