MS Shanker
A Club Secretary’s Candid Take on Greed, Glory, and a Game in Decline
Hyderabad cricket still evokes nostalgia for its glorious past — a time when its clubs brimmed with talent, its league rivalled the Ranji Trophy for intensity, and its players commanded respect across India. But somewhere between passion and politics, integrity and influence, the game has lost its soul.
That’s the blunt assessment of Hari Narayana Rao, secretary of the Marredpally Blues Cricket Club, a qualified coach and physical director at Sardar Patel Degree College. In an exclusive conversation, Rao did not mince words about the decline of Hyderabad cricket. His verdict: collective failure, fuelled by greed and the corrosive influence of money.
Rao recalls with pride the period between the 1970s and 1980s, when P.R. Man Singh helmed the Hyderabad Cricket Association (HCA). “Back then, we had modest finances, poor facilities, and hardly any infrastructure. Yet, we consistently produced 10–12 players in contention for the Indian team. Despite long travel and logistical hurdles, our cricketers had one thing in abundance — passion to make Hyderabad proud,” he said.
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He describes the A Division League of that era as nothing short of electrifying. “Matches between Andhra Bank, SBH, SBI, Syndicate Bank, BDL, Hyderabad Blues, Deccan Blues, Gujarati Cricket Club, Railways and others had the intensity of Ranji Trophy games. Youngsters like me would bunk college just to watch. The competition was fierce, the cricket unforgettable.”
Institutional teams, Rao emphasizes, were the backbone of Hyderabad cricket. They offered jobs to players, providing both livelihood and incentive, while elevating the quality of matches. “This model needs revival. It gave the sport a strong foundation and made league cricket aspirational,” he says.
The list of Hyderabad stalwarts from those days reads like a who’s who of Indian cricket: M.L. Jaisimha, Abid Ali, M.V. Narasimha Rao, Shivlal Yadav, Arshad Ayub, Venkatapathy Raju, Md. Azharuddin, VVS Laxman.
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“These players didn’t just wear India’s colors; they played league and zonal cricket in Hyderabad, inspiring generations. Alongside them, stalwarts like Kanwaljeet Singh, Abdul Azeem, Vijay Paul, Vijay Mohan Raj, Khalid Abdul Quayyum, Dr. M.V. Sridhar, and many others raised the standard of local competition. Every match was a spectacle,” Rao recalls.
Even players from Andhra would join the HCA leagues, making contests unpredictable and tough. “Winning wasn’t easy; it was uncertain and always hard-earned,” he said.
Asked where Hyderabad cricket began its downward spiral, Rao is unequivocal: “The single factor is money. As the saying goes, money corrupts — and that’s exactly what happened in the last two to three decades.”
He notes that during the tenure of President Ranga Reddy and Secretary Shivlal Yadav, there were responsible measures — such as Rs. 1 lakh grants to clubs, often used for kits and equipment. But soon, greed set in. “The grants became an addiction. Clubs started demanding more, and the appetite for funds grew insatiable.”
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The real turning point, according to him, was the construction of the Uppal Stadium. “Though the stadium was built after an immense struggle, it brought an influx of money. With money came commercialization, and with commercialization came vested interests. Suddenly, everyone wanted a piece of HCA — politicians, businessmen, people with no connection to cricket,” Rao said.
Administration gradually slipped from the hands of former players and passionate lovers of the game into those of people driven by power, wealth, and influence. “Priorities changed. Cricket took a back seat.” The main reason, he pointed out, was the steady flow of additional funds from the BCCI. That financial windfall made clubs more demanding and increasingly insatiable.
Today, HCA members who elect the Apex Council are reduced to mere spectators for the next three years, except for the Annual General Meetings, which themselves are rarely convened. Even during the leadership of respected figures like Shivlal Yadav, D.S. Chalapathi, Dr. M.V. Sridhar, and in-charge secretary S. Venkateshwaran, Hyderabad failed to capture the Ranji Trophy.
Rao believes one factor was political and parental pressure in selections. “Selection must always be about performance and talent. But compromises crept in. Merit was diluted, and that might have been the start of our downfall,” he said.
The Lodha Committee reforms, Rao says, were a “mixed bag.” While they were designed to clean up the system, they alienated members and pushed many into manipulative power games. “Instead of a democratic, member-driven association, we now have retired judges overseeing HCA leagues. Justice has been delayed, if not denied. Elected members are reduced to spectators for three years, except at AGMs, which are hardly ever held.”
The result? No accountability, no transparency, and no genuine progress.
For Rao, the answer is not simply putting ex-cricketers in charge. “Good cricketers don’t always make good administrators. But good people — men and women of character and vision — do. We need administrators with ethics, not agendas.”
One key reform, he suggests, is restructuring the A Division League into two formats — a 4-day league and a 3-day league — to prepare players for the rigors of Ranji Trophy and red-ball cricket. “Shockingly, even the 3-day league has been scrapped. Without serious competition, how can we expect our cricketers to perform at the national stage?”
He calls for reviving the culture of competition and accountability that once defined Hyderabad cricket. “Trophies mattered. Leagues were taken seriously. Young cricketers aspired to greatness by watching their idols play in local grounds. That inspiration is missing today.”
Rao does not believe in pointing fingers at one individual. “It was a collective failure — administrators with vested interests, selectors who compromised on merit, members who stayed silent, and institutions that looked the other way. When priorities shifted from cricket to politics and profit, the soul of Hyderabad cricket took a hit.”
And yet, he insists, hope is not lost. With structural reforms, ethical leadership, and a revival of competitive leagues, Hyderabad can still reclaim its legacy. “We need collective will — not for personal gain, but for the game,” Rao says.
As Hyderabad cricket battles its darkest phase — with scams, arrests, and judicial overreach staining its reputation — the voices of seasoned insiders like Hari Narayana Rao serve as both warning and roadmap. For now, the ball lies firmly in the administrators’ court.
