So Shah Rukh Khan will bow down with hands folded and say ?thank you? at the Eden Gardens, but he wouldn?t bend an inch to utter a ?sorry? at the Wankhede. Popular film actors rarely apologise for unpleasant public behaviour. As for the ?superstars?, dragging their feet down modesty lane is never an option.
But anyway, shouldn?t IPL V?s massive talking point as the curtains came down be about the appraisal of the champion team, rather than judging the over-enthusiastic owner? Kolkata Knight Riders? amazing transformation from an unpredictable team, one that was a hotbed of intrigue for the last four years, to Season V?s most-consistent side is certainly a more fascinating case study. The KKR success story that culminated with a deeply affectionate public response at the team?s victory parade in Kolkata gave a new muscle to the IPL brand, and more importantly, added the missing flavour that the league desperately aspired for?a fan base that revolves around loyalty.
While Gautam Gambhir and his boys managed that so-far elusive fan-franchise connect, Shah Rukh and his coterie fractured the already fragile relationship between the IPL team owners and the BCCI administrators. And for that reason alone, Shah Rukh?s childish spat with the Mumbai Cricket Association (MCA) officials shouldn?t be slotted with the season?s undisputed non-story?the one whose only news value was understanding Siddharth Mallya?s view of future wives.
The ugly incident at the Wankhede after the Mumbai Indians-KKR game brought to fore the deep divide between Indian cricket?s two powerful stake holders. It exposed the tip of iceberg, a tip that has the potential to sink the board?s luxury liner, the IPL.
From the time the IPL-idea germinated in Lalit Modi?s mind, Indian cricket?s old guards have always viewed the brash upstart?s new enterprise with great mistrust. Modi?s team of imprudent yuppies relied more on IMG?s world class event managers and less on the old timers, who prided themselves as the skillful organisers courtesy their experience of hosting the World Cup in 1987, 1996. It?s only human to sulk when sidelined, and several of BCCI?s silver heads have been sporting long faces for the past five years.
At the BCCI?s headquarters in Mumbai, Bentleys, Mercedes and Rolls Royces were a commonsight at the parking lot during IPL-related meetings; those men who had overseen the game?s growth over the years raised their eyebrows and soured their faces. But these are wise and wily men, who are not quite prone to untimely outbursts. With the franchise owners adding several zeroes to the BCCI?s balance sheets, they grudgingly chose to remain silent. They now travelled business class, pocketed illogically high Das and sat in their refurbished offices, but bided their time with a close eye on the slicker set that swaggered in and out of their cricket corridors.
To understand the mindset and the present day edginess of a true blue non-political cricket administrator (the kind that confronted Shah Rukh on the infamous Wankhede night), it is vital to trace the past of this intriguing breed of men. For decades they have fought several bitter battles to nurture the game from their rented, run-down offices with miniscule staff and meager funds. Besides, they constantly watched their back, bend rules, quelled coups and won votes by trading foreign trips to remain at the helm of cricketing affairs in units across the country.
They got into ugly and acrimonious debates at ICC meetings to end England?s monopoly over cricket. At home, they ran from pillar to post begging and availing countless permissions and promising officials free passes to organise international games. The ?90s saw the board waking up to the riches of telecast rights, changing the profile of the common cricket administrator forever.
But trust the politicians to sniff the right bag on the conveyor belt. The men in pristine white kurtas used their overwhelming influence, unlimited funds, unabashed bullying tactics and battery of lawyers to take control of cricket bodies and later enjoy the perks of unending media attention. As for the good old cricket administrator, he faded well into the backdrop. He wasn?t completely erased, because the politicians needed his experience to run the game. So, instead of completely disappearing, the admin man was kept on as an executive member, or as one of the several vice-presidents. But these crumbs came with a subtle message from the top. It read: ?Don?t ever dare to dream big.?
Not yet fully recovered from the politicians? blow, the advent of the IPL ensured that the cricket administrator faced a whole new adversary, as corporate czars and cine stars now threatened to further undermine their authority. And going by the signals around the circuit, the loyal administrator were well on the verge of losing their erstwhile grip. The growing influence of the new brand of administrators?the IPL owners?happens to be too overbearing to go unnoticed.
The sprawling Subrata Roy Sahara Stadium is a prime example. The owners of the Pune franchise paid R207 crore, plus taxes, to get the name of their chief written on the stadium for eternity by entering into a long and tedious contract with the Maharashtra Cricket Association. The deal also allowed Sahara to hold non-cricketing events at the venue all through the year, provided the MCA hadn?t slotted a game simultaneously. It?s a one of a kind arrangement. But considering the spiralling costs of maintaining a sporting venue, this could just be the formula other administrators and administrations might be forced to adopt in the near future.
Meanwhile, the owners?by virtue of emptying deep pockets and highly substantial investments?expect concessions and even flexibility of rules. Most of them are captains of industry, or sultans of the silver screen; but men and women who aren?t used to being ordered around. So this became a tussle between the unstoppable and the immovable. And what happened?
Cricket officialdoms? veteran street fighters wouldn?t just roll over and let the ones in sharp suits, or fashionably torn jeans, walk over them. That?s the reason the fight between the mercurial silver screen star and the modest security guard wasn?t merely about the access of the playing greens; it was an off shoot of a complex turf war.
This week onwards, we kickstart a new column on sports by our team of Express reporters