When it comes to cricket administration, most state associations behave like passengers stuck in a never-ending traffic jam—horns blaring, engines overheating, but no one moving an inch. Then there’s West Bengal. The Cricket Association of Bengal (CAB) has done the obvious, the sensible, and the refreshing: it has put its faith in none other than Sourav Ganguly, the “Prince of Kolkata,” former India captain, and poster boy of fearless cricket.
The ink on the ballot papers was barely dry when Ganguly, in trademark style, rolled out his plans. Not vague, motherhood statements like most of our administrators love. No, he declared concrete dreams—expanding Eden Gardens’ capacity to a cool one lakh and lobbying for more T20 World Cup matches in Kolkata. Clear, ambitious, and rooted in cricketing vision.
This instantly reminded me of the Supreme Court’s much-discussed opinion: state cricket associations, like the BCCI, ought to be run by players. On paper, that sounds perfect—cricketers know the game, they have the credibility, and they are seen as above the sleazy politics of sports administration. But let’s pause here. Having lived through Hyderabad cricket’s tragic experiment with “Players Panels,” I can safely say—my Lords, your Honours, you were not entirely right.
Consider Hyderabad’s story. Three decades ago, a “Players Panel” dethroned P.R. Mansingh, arguably one of the finest administrators the city ever had. Mansingh’s tenure saw Hyderabad produce world-class players and gain national respect. His opponents? Former cricketers, led by Shivlal Yadav—an off-spinner who, in fairness, did scalp 100 Test wickets, no small feat in an era dominated by Prasanna, Chandra, Venkat, and Bedi. But politics proved a more lethal delivery than any of his off-breaks.
Since then, Hyderabad cricket has been a cautionary tale. Despite the presence of former Test stars like Arshad Ayub and even a former India captain, Mohammad Azharuddin, the association descended into the quicksand of scams, nepotism, and endless court cases. Promising youngsters found their careers strangled before they began. The association’s reputation? Shredded.
Yes, Hyderabad still produced the likes of VVS Laxman, Venkatapathy Raju, and, more recently, Mohammed Siraj. But let’s be clear: these were outliers, men who clawed their way up purely on talent, not on the patronage of cricket administrators or “family inheritances” within the HCA. Compare that with the 1960s, when ML Jaisimha, Abid Ali, Abbas Ali Baig, and others walked into the national team on nothing but merit and performance.
So, here’s the million-rupee question: if Bengal can put Ganguly at the helm, why can’t Hyderabad convince its own legends to step up? Imagine VVS Laxman, with his understated dignity and credibility, as President of the Hyderabad Cricket Association. Picture Venkatapathy Raju as Secretary, lending both experience and integrity. This isn’t wishful thinking—it’s a very practical solution, provided the 200-odd affiliated club secretaries can look beyond their narrow interests and think of the game.
Of course, this requires courage. The High Court–appointed supervisory committee, under the upright Justice Naveen Rao, must scrap the current truncated Apex Council and order fresh elections. Then, the stakeholders—yes, those very club secretaries—must show spine and vote for credibility over convenience. Why not bring back upright administrators like Venkateswaran? Why not rope in serious philanthropists such as Ramakrishna Udupu, who genuinely want to promote cricket?
And here’s a radical but necessary idea: form an “outsourcing committee” of Margadarshaks. Imagine former stalwarts like Jyoti Prasad, Naushir Mehta, Maheshwar Singh, M. V. Narasimha Rao (Bobji, now in Ireland but hopefully willing to return), and Mahendra Kumar stepping in. Yes, some may be past the Lodha-prescribed age bar—but wisdom doesn’t retire at 70. Let them oversee the appointment of coaches and selectors, ensuring merit—not nepotism—becomes the guiding principle of Hyderabad cricket.
Skeptics will say this is bizarre. Maybe it is. But after writing more than 25 hard-hitting episodes on “Who Ruined Hyderabad Cricket?” and “How to Revive Hyderabad Cricket,” and after speaking to dozens of stakeholders, I am convinced this is the only way forward. If Bengal can trust Ganguly, why can’t Hyderabad trust its own icons?
Hyderabad cricket was once synonymous with grace and excellence—ML Jaisimha walking out in silk shirts, Abid Ali defying odds with bat and ball. Today, it is synonymous with courtrooms, scams, and mediocrity. If we genuinely want to restore the city’s cricketing legacy, we must stop treating the HCA like a family inheritance and start treating it like what it is: a public trust for the game.
It’s time the custodians of Hyderabad cricket looked east—to Kolkata—and learned a lesson in leadership. After all, Ganguly showed us once as captain how to make a timid Indian side stand tall. Maybe it’s time Hyderabad followed his example off the field too.
