Indian cricket is beset with problems. Unfortunately, as the BCCI elections approach, it is not the sport but the battle between two former friends--Jagmohan Dalmiya and I S Bindra--that is atttracting attention.

By Rohit Brijnath

There is a bad smell emanating from Indian cricket. It is arriving not from the fields where young men are playing out their dreams, but from boardrooms and hotel suites where grey-haired men with a thirst for power are plotting their grand ambitions. There is a purity to sport, a cleanliness, an element of fantasy; there is also a baser side to sport, full of intrigue and manipulation.

As two groups battle for control of the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI), the darker side is shining through. Here too, winning is everything. To be secretary or president (the posts up for grabs) of the BCCI is to be the most powerful man in Indian sport. It is why the armies from both sides do not comprise just sports administrators, but politicians, businessmen, sports agents and bureaucrats. On September 17, the annual general meeting-cum-election was abandoned on a technical point; on November 6 in Chennai the battle resumes. As Raj Singh Dungarpur, present BCCI president, says, "It is ugly and unpleasant. And yes, it's sad the issues are not cricket."

To introduce the leaders of the warring parties is to begin the farce. Two years ago, former BCCI secretary Jagmohan Dalmiya and former BCCI president I.S. Bindra, both honourable men, stood as righteous brothers in arms, challenging the West for control of world cricket, marketing Indian cricket, inseparable in their common agenda.

Today, their only measure of commonality is a wild swing in blood pressure at a mention of the other's name.

The confusion continues. Neither man is running for office, more comfortable playing kingmaker. Their duel is oddly timed too, for this is not an election year, merely a routine annual meeting to confirm the tenure of Dungarpur and secretary J.Y. Lele, both just a year or so in office. Dalmiya is advocating their renewal; Bindra believes they are incompetent, have allowed Dalmiya to hijack the board, and proposes their replacement with Maharashtra administrator Dynashewar Agashe and Delhi's Sunil Dev. Only twice before have incumbents been replaced after a year's rule. Kindly pay attention, matters are about to turn curiouser. Dalmiya is International Cricket Committee (ICC) president and appropriate behaviour perhaps demands he absent himself from domestic cricket politics. And Bindra not only proposed Dungarpur as president last year, but fought against Agashe in an election some years ago. The contradictions are swept under the nearest carpet.

It is time to pause. Some former cricketers have said both men should abandon their fractious duel for the good of Indian cricket. It is an appeal based on the assumption that both men are geniuses, indispensable to Indian cricket. No doubt, Dalmiya -- the construction magnate whose demeanour reminds one of the Yiddish saying, "He smiles with cold teeth" -- has a keen financial mind. No doubt either that Bindra -- the Punjab bureaucrat with the manner of a kindly uncle but with a mind as sharp as a cleaver -- offers sophisticated administrative skills. Fact is, as a former administrator says, "Both are competent without being supermen. They look better because they are surrounded by rubbish on the board." Fact is, Indian cricket may be financially sound, but it is an unprofessional hotch-potch for which both men are partially responsible. It would be fatal if either man believed he was the chosen one, for it would be reflective of a considered cockiness.

Nevertheless, the call to war has been sounded. Each group has huddled for hours, discussing strategy, calling in their favours. In Dalmiya's corner stand heavyweights like Railway Minister Ram Vilas Paswan, Mumbai Congress leader Murli Deora, former minister

Kamal Morarka and spic Chairman A.C. Muthiah. At the other end of the ring, Bindra has assembled a powerful stable too, of Congress leaders Madhavrao Scindia, Sharad Pawar and aICC General Secretary Tariq Anwar. At the first meeting, the farce is obvious: the Railways Sports Control Board and Jammu and Kashmir have two representatives, both claiming to be officially endorsed, one voting one way, one the other. Politics, politics -- and Sachin Tendulkar dare ask for a professional physical trainer!

Allegations are flying across the country like Srinath's bouncers. One side says Dalmiya is a toothless ICC president; the other responds that the envious Bindra wants to replace Dalmiya as ICC head. That may not be possible; it has certainly, as a flummoxed David Richards of the ICC confirmed, "never been contemplated". There is talk also of murky deals, unkept promises, corruption. What is true is irrelevant because few, if any, of these issues have so far been actually put to the other across the table. A friendship has been extinguished in a whispering campaign.

In all this, two things appear to have been forgotten. First, that this is not becoming behaviour from grey-haired men. Second, what happened to the cricket? The game in India is rich, thank you Mr Dalmiya and Mr Bindra. The game in India is also diseased. The absurd part is that although Dungarpur and Lele are culpable, they have inherited many problems from their predecessors, coincidentally Dalmiya and Bindra. Take a peek at some forgotten issues:

• In his report after the South African tour, manager Sunil Dev questioned the Board's professionalism, writing "two players were not even provided official blazers", and "in the entire tour there was no responsible person present to take the responsibility of travel".
  
• A professional physical trainer and an academy have been promised, but not delivered, for years.
  
• The "technical committee" which oversees playing conditions, says one member, has not met for 12 months. As he says, "It's a useless committee."
  
• The state of stadiums is a joke.
  
• The impartiality of selectors is questionable; so is their ability to keep their choices secret. Lele himself admits that earlier this year a journalist showed him a list of the 14 who would be picked a day before the selection meeting.
  
• No one has been trained to replace Dalmiya. A senior executive at a foreign television conglomerate says: "If we have to work a television-rights deal, we go to Dalmiya. Lele cannot even understand the first step."
  
• The BCCI does not have a professional, paid chief executive like the Sri Lankans or a media manager like the Australians.
  
• Even as the match-fixing inquiry headed by Justice Chandrachud began, Dungarpur, rather injudiciously, proclaimed his team's innocence, saying, "My players are clean."
  
• Television deals between the BCCI, WorldTel owner Mark Mascarenhas and Doordarshan have evinced considerable comment. Like Doordarshan paying WorldTel Rs 3 crore for producing the Independence Cup when TWI's bid was considerably lower.

All this is relevant, the duel is not. A small band of men straddling a boardroom table may want us to believe that the future of Indian cricket depends on who wins. That promise sounds as ragged as the state of the Indian game. Professionalism, which Bindra pledges, must be set in place; money ploughed back into domestic cricket; accountability considered the new buzzword. Somewhere in India, a boy with torn trousers, a plank of wood and a dream to play for India is standing on the street. Realising his dream is what these honourable men should be fighting for. 

© Living Media India Ltd