Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Tee-time for caddy golfers

(Also in M - http://www.msutras.com/)
Muniyappa’s story is proof that a golf caddy could soon be the rich man whose bag he’s carrying today and also bring India our next Olympic medal
Something quite significant took place the other day. A 33-year-old man named Chinnaswamy Muniyappa won the most important golf tournament in the country around the second week of October. Before the Indian Open started, not many outside of the Karnataka Golf Association had heard of Muniyappa. Now, he is the placed sixth in the Asian Tour Order of Merit with earnings of $ 215,516.

All of this is momentous because Muniyappa was, until recently, a caddie. You know, the man who carries the rich man-cum-recreational golfer’s heavy kitbag on his shoulders on the golf course while the big business deals are sealed? Yeah, that’s what Muniyappa was. Back in those days, he earned a rupee for an hour’s work. He is now the sixth richest golfer in Asia.

“My parents used to work at the Karnataka Golf Association,” Muniyappa says. “I never thought of playing, but watched people play. I was happy with the 1 rupee I got every hour. But the other caddies would cut branches and play in the evenings. I did too. It was fun, but with a wooden club, the ball would only go around 75 yards.”

Things started getting serious only when, at age 12 after playing with the wooden club for five years or so, Muniyappa got his first real club – a used 7-iron a KGA member parted with. All the way to the 2009 Indian Open title.

Fascinating, isn’t it? Quite the script for a 1970s Hindi blockbuster flick.

But remarkable as Muniyappa’s story is, it isn’t a first in Indian golf. Or, for that matter, in world golf.

In India, the story starts with Ali Sher. 1991. The Indian Open. The first time an Indian golfer won the title, and broke the stranglehold of the foreigners. Importantly, the little man with the big heart was also a caddie-turned-golfer. Someone who, like Muniyappa but two decades before him, also “cut branches to make wooden clubs, watched the good players play, learnt the sport and then became obsessed with it”, as Sher puts it.

Ditto with Kolkata-based caddy-turned-golf heroes Jamshed Ali (1970s), Basad Ali (1980s), and Feroze Ali and SSP Chowrasia (1990s).

The point, though, is that this isn’t all that surprising. It’s widely accepted that, like tennis markers, golf caddies are the quickest learners of their sport. They are in a prime position to pick up technical nuances because they watch decent players playing all the time. They are seeped in the game through the day, every working day. If the best of them don’t become golfers themselves, they become a Fanny Sunesson – easily the world’s most famous caddie; a woman in a man’s game. She shouldered Nick Faldo’s ‘burden’ for ten years before ‘dumping’ him for Henrik Stenson. Sunesson’s resignation letter coincided with Faldo’s decline. Faldo won four Majors while Sunesson was around, and even rehired her for a while after the split – but the magic had faded.

This brings us to a difficult question: why aren’t there more caddy golfers then? If caddies can become such super golfers, then why not have programmes where caddies can be nurtured as potential golfers, instead of a handful of caddies becoming good golfers by sheer individual hard work, perseverance and big dollops of luck?

You want to know why this needs to be done, and done desperately? It’s because we are in the process of moving away from golf being an elite sport to becoming a mass sport. It’s going to be part of the Olympic Games from 2016 in Rio de Janeiro after all. It’s not going to be a sport of the elite. It’s going to be a sport where nations compete. For the most important gold medal in the world of sport.

And you know why India must have a programme at the earliest? It’s because golf is among the few sports in the country that is not governed by a federation run by the government. Like cricket. There isn’t a politician at the helm of affairs who does nothing to improve the sport – like is the case with every single Olympic sport in the country.

Do you know how players like Digvijay Singh reacted upon hearing the news that golf will be included in the 2016 Olympics? While the rest of the golfing world was celebrating, Digvijay said, “I don’t want Suresh Kalmadi (President, Indian Olympic Association) or anyone else to look into the golfers’ future at all. There is enough mess in every other sport in the country.”

We do have Jeev Milkha Singh. As well as Jyoti Randhawa, Arjun Atwal, Shiv Kapur and Gaganjeet Bhullar. But are they good enough to bring us a medal from Rio? Good as they are, can we count on them to deliver against Tiger Woods and the rest of the top golfers of the world?

Could the answer then lie in a Professional Golf Tour of India (PGTI) nationwide programme to ‘create’ talent? Or, for that matter, ‘tap’ talent? From where? Yes, the talent pool that already exists in the form of the caddy brigade. To repeat, people who love the game, know the game and are part of the game, but not quite.

As things stand at the moment, caddies get interested in golf by being involved with the sport as a career, earning a pittance, starting to play with hand-me-down clubs from club members and occasionally, only occasionally, becoming good enough to become a pro. Clubs do help, but not in a deliberate or organised fashion. Ravi Puri, CEO of the Classic Golf Resort in Manesar, explains, “Most clubs let caddies use the facilities after the playing hours for the members are over. Imagine, you have the entire course, the driving ranges and the putting greens at your disposal. Maybe you don’t have a good kit or a coach, but you do have everything else. And then, most members will change their kits from time to time, and the old kits are handed down to the caddies.”

Doesn’t sound like a bad deal. But there’s no plan in place anywhere. There’s no target. There’s no objective. Is any of that really programmed to produce India’s next golf hero?

True, caddy tournaments have become fairly popular across the country now. Like the All India Invitational Caddies Tournament, played annually for seven years now at the Delhi Golf Club. As well as programmes for caddies, like the ones initiated by the historic Royal Calcutta Golf Club and the Tollygunge Club in Kolkata. RCGC, the second oldest golf club in the world, started a training programme for caddies around the turn of the millennium. Caddies are handed out spare balls, second-hand clubs and given basic technical training, enough to add the natural ability some of them possess anyway. Tolly Club does the same.

But isn’t that too little? And too unfocussed? Isn’t that mainly to try and be inclusive and not much more? Not to say that’s not a good thing, it is. It’s very noble. But is there a solid objective anywhere?

After Muniyappa won, a delighted Asian Tour chairman Kyi Hla Han predicted: “Muniyappa's triumph will inspire more rags-to-riches stories. Young and underprivileged Indian golfers will practice harder. He has shown that the way to success is through hard work and dedication.”

Can’t argue with that. But why not put words in Mr Han’s mouth and frame the statement this way: “Muniyappa's triumph is proof that caddy-turned-golfers can make the cut. But for that, the PGTI must put in place programmes for caddies that will help them reach the top level.”

To end, here we have a natural talent pool waiting to be tapped. If the golf clubs scattered across the country stretch their resources a wee bit, and the PGTI takes a little more interest, a rupee an hour needn’t be the only reward a caddy gets.

Time to standardise pitches?

(Also on http://www.cricketakash.com/)
What makes a good Test match?

Without getting into the nuts and bolts of it, you need (a) the pitch to be batsman-friendly for the first couple of days, (b) the pitch become a spinners’ game as it wears on into the last day, (c) two or three centuries, (d) about 35-37 wickets, and (e) a result.

Simple, right?

Let’s break it down further. The first innings should last just over a day-and-a-half, the second innings should last about a day-and-a-half, the third about a day and the fourth slightly less – not counting the possibility of declarations.

What you need then is a pitch that starts out with the ball bouncing and moving around a bit – so that the pacers get a few wickets in the first hour of the first day. Then the batsmen come into play and see out the day without losing too many more wickets. On the second day, the pacers become effective only for the first half an hour. By the fourth day, the spinners start becoming effective. And on the fifth day, spin is all the works.

If you accept this as the basic template of a Test match, my suggestion might make sense to you. If you don’t accept this as the template, let’s chat some other time.

Right – my suggestion: put together a committee that standardises pitches across the world. It’s not a wholly original idea, but it’s a good time to revive it. Yes, home advantage must be there. An Indian pitch must be batsman and spin-friendly while Australian pitches must be pace friendly. But the science of making pitches must be brought into play. How can curators get away with preparing dead and daft pitches like the one in Ahmedabad? Not the first one in India in recent times.

So bring Fat Andy Atkinson back. Or get someone else to head the committee. You can’t force teams to play for draws and against losses, but the conditions must be made such that teams are forced to pull at all stops to negotiate.
Do you think crowds won’t come to the grounds if they know a result will in all probability happen? I don’t think so. I’m sure that if a result is promised, or a tough, grinding draw is promised, the crowds will be excited. But the more we make Ahmedabad happen, the more we will ensure that Test cricket dies away. Unless, of course, that’s what the IPL-obsessed cricket bosses actually want.

Sunday, November 15, 2009

What’s your favourite Sachin moment?

(Also in Bengali daily Ek Din)
I suppose it’s one of the Indian cricket fans’ pastimes of choice – asking each other what their favourite Sachin Tendulkar moment is. I’ve been part of a few of these...obviously!

Many instances come up almost on cue: Operation Desert Storm for one, and that look on Shane Warne’s face. Then that double hundred in Sydney where he didn’t play a single cover drive. Or when as a 16 year old he slammed Abdul Qadir for successive sixers. That last over in the Hero Cup final maybe. So many others...

Strangely, I have usually stood out when these discussions happen. Yes, each of the instances mentioned earlier are fantastic, and I will explain why I feel so slightly later in the piece. But the incident that I remember most fondly is one that many people usually don’t remember. I don’t use it to stand out or to say something that makes me appear more intelligent than others. It’s because that one incident sums up Sachin Tendulkar for me.
The incident took place in Kolkata in probably the most important Test match in India’s history. Yes, the one in 2001, when VVS Laxman, Harbhajan Singh and Rahul Dravid walked away with all the honours. This was the 51st over. Shane Warne was the batsman, facing up to Tendulkar. The match was in India’s pocket already, but here was the moment of the match. Tendulkar ambles up, pitches the ball outside the off-stump, it’s a googly! The greatest leg-spinner in the world fails to read it; he is caught plumb in front. For a duck!

And that’s Sachin Tendulkar for me.

A man who can do almost anything in the game, but wants to do a bit more. He can play every stroke in the book, but he wants to play the top-edged cut over point because Virender Sehwag can play it. He wants to play it better. He wants to play the reverse-sweep because the rest of the world is playing it. He wants to play the scoop over short fine-leg because everyone else is doing it. And while bowling, he wants to bowl six different deliveries because Shane Warne can do it.

That’s Sachin Tendulkar for me.

What about the other incidents then? Desert Storm? Sure. After all, how many others can make Shane Warne look around in awe like that?

But that’s Sachin Tendulkar.

How about Sydney 2004 – the unbeaten 241 where he didn’t play a single cover drive? That proves the ability of the man even more. Imagine Warne not being able to bowl the flipper. Or Shoaib Akhtar and Muttiah Muralitharan not being allowed to chuck. Or Brian Lara banned from using the square drive. Or Sunil Gavaskar being told he can’t play the forward defensive stroke. Imagine one of them scoring a double hundred, or picking five-six wickets.

Yes, that’s Sachin Tendulkar.

It’s one of the great privileges of watching cricket in the modern era. Possibly the greatest privilege of them all. That we watched cricket in the era when Sachin Tendulkar played. Nothing beats that. Nothing at all.

Saturday, November 07, 2009

What do we do with Sarfaraz?

(Also on www.cricketakash.com)
Rahul Dewan is one of my fellow columnists on this website, and being ‘on the rise’, he would probably be best-equipped to answer the questions I try to raise in this post; I’m talking about Sarfaraz Khan, the boy who scored a mammoth 439 in the Harris Shield the other day. It’s the highest score ever in Indian school cricket. And the second highest recorded score by an Indian – after Bhausaheb Nimbalkar’s 443 in the Ranji Trophy back in 1948.

Question 1: How important is the innings?
Question 2: What can we expect from Sarfaraz going forward?

At the onset, let me confess that I have no answers to either question, but can only hazard a couple of guesses.
How important is Sarfaraz’s innings? Well, a score of over 400 is always fantastic. Young Sarfaraz batted aggressively hitting 56 boundaries and 12 sixes, which is a good thing. It means that the little boy is not afraid of going over the fielders’ heads or of putting away the loose delivery. He batted for two days, resuming on just over 200 on the second day. This suggests that his focus and concentration are both good. And just the sheer number of runs confirms that he has the ability to play long innings. This is an especially a good thing in this day and age of T20 cricket.

Sarfaraz is just 12 – which means that all the faculties necessary for a good batsman are already there, and all he needs is to build on his strengths.
Now, what can we expect from Sarfaraz? This is the trickier bit. If Sachin Tendulkar is a yardstick, then we can expect loads. If Vinod Kambli is a yardstick, then we can expect a lot of unfulfilled promise. The difference between the two was ‘discipline’. Nothing else.

But there are other people we can turn to as well. Ramesh Nagdev and Sanjeev Jadhav, for example, who hit 427 and 422 in Bombay school cricket as well. We haven’t heard much about them either.

This suggests that an early spark isn’t enough to start dreaming.

This also suggests that the key to the proper development of a bright young talent is just that: proper development.

If success goes to your head, then you are most likely to become a Kambli.

If early success tells you that you will be part of the Indian team in a jiffy and you then get frustrated when reality hits you, then you are most likely to become a Nagdev or a Jadhav.

The idea should be to work hard, and try to be a Wasim Jaffer, who also scored a 400 in Bombay school cricket, has played a champion role for Bombay over the years and done moderately well in Test cricket. If, in the process, you do become a Sachin Tendulkar, be glad for it. Don’t expect it. Because chances are, it won’t happen. And planning for it will only set you back.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

The kamikaze boys

(Also on http://www.cricketakash.com/)
How often have you joked with your friends about different facets of Pakistan cricket? The fact that not one of them has their correct age on record. That at any given point of time, they have five to eight current and former captains in their side. That most of them have wonky actions. That you can always count on them to self-destruct – a match is never lost even from the unlikeliest of positions if you’re playing Pakistan. And vice-versa of course.
Don’t get me wrong. I love Pakistan cricket. I love the country – especially Peshawar and the chapli kebabs there. And I have some awesome friends there.
But yes, Pakistan cricket and Pakistani cricketers are an enigma. Impossibly and inscrutably so. It baffles more often than it doesn’t.
Why else would you have a Parliamentarian come out and allege that the team’s captain had fixed a match in the Champions Trophy and then backtrack thrice to eventually say he had only wanted a probe to ensure no one thinks Pakistan had fixed any matches?
Why else would you have an obviously choreographed ‘courtroom’ drama in the senate of the nation where Younis Khan walks in with his resignation letter, which is not accepted but pocketed by his boss Ejaz Butt, followed by reports that Younis is happy to take back his resignation only if he is made captain till 2011?
So here’s a story that started with the T20 world champions losing in the semi-finals of the Champions Trophy and being accused of match-fixing, and ending (temporarily) with the accused (Younis) demanding perks to take back his resignation! And being granted it.
And the intrigue all around is equally fascinating. Apparently, Shahid Afridi has been meeting Butt to try and become the ODI captain now. Afridi denies this. Butt denies this. But everyone thinks it’s true. So Younis is being sidelined? Possibly. Except that he is also on a strong enough wicket to demand the perks that he has.
But Pakistan cricket has always been like this. I mentioned earlier about the number of captains at any given time in the team. Add to that murmurs that at any given time, there are at least three factions in that team as well. One led by the current captain. The other two by people who are captaincy aspirants. Is this true? No one can say for sure, but ever since the days of Imran Khan, Zaheer Abbas and Javed Miandad, and later Wasim Akram, Inzamam-ul-Haq and Waqar Younis, people have whispered about this.
And the worst part of this story is that Pakistan cricket is on an upturn right now. That fabled factory has just given us Mohammad Aamer. The latest great spinner is out in the form of Saeed Ajmal. The team has just won the T20 World Championships. The team also looks fairly relaxed under Younis Khan, who has endeared himself to the media across the world with his innocence and earnestness.
But then, this is Pakistan cricket we are talking about…

Friday, October 02, 2009

The curious case of Sourav Ganguly

(Also on www.cricketakash.com)
Isn’t it time we stopped big cricketers from treating the Ranji Trophy like it’s their personal fiefdom?
Yes, it’s true that (a) the Ranji Trophy isn’t as important as it used to be, (b) it’s not even the benchmark for domestic excellence, with the IPL a more reliable make-the-grade-for-national-selection tournament now, and (c) smaller, less starry teams are happy to get their grubby hands on as many stars as they can.
But, let’s take the case of Sourav Ganguly. He (a) is not an international cricketer anymore, (b) spends more time trying to become a Cricket Association of Bengal administrator, (c) spends the rest of his time hosting game shows, and (d) is trying to end his career with one last splash in the third season of the IPL. And, frankly, he doesn’t give a fig about the Bengal Ranji team.
Despite all that, to the people of Bengal and the Bengal cricket team, he is the one-man selling point – the biggest name the cricket-crazy state has ever produced. If you could read Bengali, you’d know that the press there hasn’t covered the Indian team for the past decade-plus, they have covered their Dada; a Tendulkar century is usually relegated to second place when Dada makes a double-digit score. Which is why, he can avoid playing in the Ranji Trophy for years, but find a place at his preferred batting slot when Greg Chappell chucks him out of the team and he wants to make a comeback. Or now, when he is clearly not in any kind of shape or match practice, he is able to get into the team to prepare himself for the IPL.
I don’t mean to single out Ganguly here; he is just a case in point. Sachin Tendulkar, Rahul Dravid, VVS Laxman, Virender Sehwag, Zaheer Khan – all of them are in on the Ranji game too. Their state teams are mere net practice options.
Their one-point excuse: they never have time to play with their state teams when representing India. Alright, but why not practice with the boys the rest of the time? At least, then you are, at some level, a part of the set-up.
Is that what state-level cricket is about? Shouldn’t there be some sort of selection criterion even for big stars when it comes to the Ranji Trophy?
So let’s assume that a senior cricketer who has just been dropped from the Indian team or been left out because of injury is good enough for the state team. That’s fine. But let’s return to Ganguly. On form, he shouldn’t be part of any of the IPL teams. He is not a ‘player’ anymore and has probably not hit the nets in ages now (it shows around his mid-section too). He retired from international cricket because he was spent. At this stage, what makes him good enough to play for Bengal?
And worse, what makes him good enough to come out and say “I’ll play the Ranji Trophy to get in shape for the IPL” without the Bengal selectors even having a think about the option?
Fiefdoms, anyone?

Not the ‘Test’ case scenario

(also on www.cricketakash.com)
Must senior Indian cricketers lie every time they are asked about their preferred format of the game? Ask Harbhajan Singh or Sachin Tendulkar or Robin Uthappa or Yuvraj Singh and chances are that you’ll get a glib “Test cricket is the real thing” answer. Did I say ‘chances are’? Do a quick Google; it is the answer.
But that’s a lie, isn’t it? And what makes the lie worse is that it’s needless.
What stops a Man in Blue from admitting that Twenty20 cricket is the flavour of the season and possibly the flavour of the future too? It is, isn’t it? It is, and as long as the BCCI remains in charge of world cricket, it’s not about to change. Is that a bad thing? That’s hard to tell, and in this context, it doesn’t matter.
I’ll make my biases clear. I’d take a good, hard Test match played in England or Australia than anything else. But even I’d say that no one actually watch entire Test matches anymore. Heck, we don’t even watch international cricket unless India is playing and doing well. (Happily, I have to – to stay on top of my job.) We watch Twenty20 cricket with more enthusiasm; and the IPL has been a complete blockbuster.
Now tell me; if Test cricket and the whole ‘purity’ thing is what keeps these cricketers going, then what’s stopping them from approaching the BCCI and telling them “look boss, we’re happy to play T20s and earn you money, but we want to play more Test cricket – let us”. You think that if a Tendulkar or a Harbhajan or a Yuvraj seriously wanted to plead the ‘Test case’, they wouldn’t have? Truth is, they are happy to play three hours of cricket and earn many times more money. They don’t want to put their worn-out bodies through 30 hours of cricket.
And here’s the thing: there’s nothing wrong with it. Cricketers are out there to earn a living for themselves. They don’t have to pretend to be good chips off the old block. They can come out and say openly “scrap Tests, we’re not interested”. The BCCI will be happy to oblige. Spectators – the majority of them at least – will be thrilled. Cricketers have short careers as compared to the ‘retire at 60’ gigs we have; no one grudges them the money they earn.
So why can’t they come clean? Like a Kiwi or Aussie or Caribbean cricketer can?
Public image? Possibly. The image marketing chappie can’t do it all by himself.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Derby ho to aisa!

September 20, 2009
Saw an entire football match after a very long time – the Manchester Derby.
Part of the reason for watching it was the quick glance through the sports pages in the newspapers, where the scoresheet says that almost every single Premiership game this season has seen around three goals being scored. Wow! Part of the reason was that I am quite certain City will take the Premiership title this time – yeah, I know, but I am quite certain. Yeah, I’m with you Colin Shindler!Of course, the Derby took place soon after Lionel Messi scored two in a 5-2 demolition of Atletico Madrid, but still…thought I’d catch the derby nevertheless. And at the end of it, here are some quick, and very random, thoughts:

1. City can’t do much despite their great strike force with this sort of defending. The United attack isn’t spectacular, and though Giggs had one of his greatest days in recent, or otherwise, memory, Given had it too tough because of the twerps in the defence. Real Madrid had the best attackers in the world playing together, but couldn’t do much – you can’t always outscore opponents; there’s a reason football is played the way it is.
- First goal: no one going in for the final tackle on Rooney
- Second goal: no one marking Fletcher
- Third goal: no one marking Fletcher again
- Fourth goal: yes, it was way past the end-time, but why was no one marking Owen
- The number of times Berbatov got free headers was also ridiculous
2. It’s very simple; Toure can’t, repeat can’t, be the team’s number one defender. He’s best as a support act, but definitely not as the prime defender.

3. Still talking about City, and I don’t think Tevez is up there yet –Adebayor has to be part of the starting line-up at all times, and with Bellamy in the kind of touch he was in today, man, what a strike pairing!
4. From United’s part, and this is aside of the usual dollop of cheating that they have survived on for decades now, I don’t think the team has that zing about it. I don’t see Giggs playing like this everyday, though I’ll bet my last rupee that he will keep trying to. I also don’t think Owen will be a regular solution, simply because I don’t see him playing more than 20 minutes at any stage.
I also don’t think you can count on Fletcher to pull you back like this too often – he is just not good enough, even if he plays with his heart on his sleeve. And I certainly think that Anderson is among the worst players to have worn the United strip ever. What United is missing is that one spark. The sort that Rooney is providing off and on. The sort that Giggs provided every minute of the second half today. The sort that Ronaldo used to provide. Or Beckham.
At the end of it, while I do believe City have it in them to pull off a Premiership win this season – I seriously do – I think this whole we’ll-score-more-than-them philosophy has to change. Fast. Else, those billions won’t add up to much.

Saturday, September 19, 2009

Freddie the freelancer!

September 19, 2009
So now Andrew Flintoff is going to be a freelance cricketer, eh?

Oh my god! How can that be? How can a cricketer play for multiple teams? It’s unheard of in international sport!

Oh well, that it is. In team sport, especially. Imagine a Cristiano Ronaldo playing a couple of weeks for Real Madrid, then with Manchester United, and then, another couple of weeks depending on which part of the world his girlfriend wants to holiday in. Nope, not done!

Except that this is cricket we are talking about. And that makes this completely unprecedented plan on Freddie’s part quite acceptable. Really!

No other major team sport involves such massive country representation to start with.

Football – no. Hockey – no. Baseball – no. Rugby – no. Basketball – no. Volleyball – no. What other team sports are there? All these are primarily club sports; with players getting together to play for their countries once every six months or so. If you are a big footballer for a major team, chances are you will not be forced to play all these matches either – only the really important ones.

And that’s why cricket, and cricketers, should be looked at slightly differently.

Once a regular with his national team, an average cricketer spends almost 90 percent of the time representing his country. This would be closer to 100 percent in the pre-IPL era. That’s quite ridiculous.

Now, the fact that the future of world cricket is Franchisee Cricket or Club Cricket is no secret. That’s the direction the sport is headed in. If that means no more cricketers with 100-plus Test matches and 10,000-plus runs, so be it. Truth is, if cricket needs to exist as a global sport (which it has been attempting to for a long time now), it must go the club way.

It must allow the Didier Drogbas and the George Weahs and the Landon Donovans and, even, the Bhaichung Bhutias to play with the best in the world even if Ivory Coast and Liberia and USA and India are not good enough as teams. It must.

It must have Test championships and ODI championships and T20 championships. Between countries. But it must identify one format – most likely the T20 format – that will be played among clubs around the year. There must be an Indian Premier League. As there should be an Australian Premier League and an English Premier League and a West Indian Premier League. And there should be the Champions League.

Which brings us to the Flintoff question. The Freelance Cricketer. Is it acceptable? Your take on this is as good as mine, but I do want to say this: as long as cricket doesn’t operate the football way and forces cricketers to make themselves available round the year to satisfy calendar commitments, more and more big players like Flintoff will take the freelance route. If Flintoff is allowed to operate as a freelancer, every single West Indian cricketer – Chris Gayle downwards – will take the same route. And no one will have a legal or legitimate ground to stop them.

And no one should stop them anyway.