Amrit Mathur

New Delhi:

There is enough proof that India is the hub of cricket’s global economy — it drives business, controls financial triggers and calls the shots.

The World Cup and other global ICC events are sustained by Indian sponsors, bilateral series featuring India raise serious monies from Indian corporates and every country is queuing up to host India.

Before India went to Pakistan last year, the PCB was so cash strapped it could not pay their staff salaries. From that tour the PCB made a IRs 100 crore surplus, which explains why it is placing ads in Indian newspapers for the series against England later this winter!

With Indian capital generously flowing out of the country, Indian cricket’s balance of trade is surprisingly adverse. Hard economic facts indicate we pick up all the bills, pay for everything but there is no cash inflow from overseas. Our cricket receives nothing, nor do our cricketers and once the plus and minus are tallied, the accounts show red.

This imbalance has set off demands for reform. Hardliners want stringent action in the form of abandoning cricket liberalisation, erecting trade barriers and imposing quotas to prevent others from exploiting our sporting — and commercial — spirit .

Isn’t it odd, they argue, that Brett Lee (not in the Australian side) comes here, sings songs, plays a guitar, sells some watches and earns a fat cheque. Similarly, what makes Wasim Akram so commercially attractive that he spends more time in Mumbai than Lahore?

Why most Indian companies provide employment to Chris Cairns and newspapers have

a mysterious fascination for columns by retired or tired overseas players who pronounce judgement by watching India play on TV from halfway across the globe.

No other country reciprocates this goodwill by giving Indian players commercial opportunities outside India. Our cricket travels everywhere (through satellite/cable /internet) but not our cricketers.

Even though every sixth person in the world is an Indian, our stars don’t write columns, don’t endorse products and enjoy zero commercial clout in other countries. If Gillepsie and Jonty Rhodes can endorse stuff in India, surely Indian players can appeal to consumers in South Africa and England.

Maybe, like the Indian film industry, we are waiting for one big crossover star to make it and open the door for others. Or maybe the inability to make a dent abroad is a marketing failure where overseas experts have not been able to recognise and tap commercial possibilities. If Dravid can sell shoes in Delhi he can do the same in Dubai and Durban; likewise, Sehwag can push his brand of cola to Indians in England or the Middle East. After all, Veeru is their hero, not Andrew Strauss.

But instead of marketing myopia, could there be a reluctance on the part of Indian players to step out and play on new pitches? One view suggests that our players’ attitude is similar to that of the Big B and SRK who think it is much better to be kings at home than start a fresh innings on a new turf. Indian cricket’s adverse balance of trade can be redressed with smartness all around: from the marketing men who should tap overseas opportunities and from India’s stars to understand that nothing keeps market happier than professionalism and approachability.