By Shesh Narayan
As a former secretary of the Hyderabad Cricket Association (HCA), I have witnessed its highs and its slow, painful descent into administrative opacity. What troubles me today is not merely a difference of opinion on governance—it is the growing normalization of parallel authority, where individuals with no formal mandate increasingly project themselves as decision-makers, organisers, and arbiters of the game.
Consider the curious case of a self-styled “activist,” passionate about cricket, perhaps, but holding no official position within HCA, publicly advertising himself as the “Convenor of District Leagues” in his native Karimnagar. Under what authority does this designation arise? Who conferred this role? More importantly, are the legitimate stakeholders—affiliated clubs, district bodies, and elected representatives—now irrelevant to the decision-making process?
These are not rhetorical flourishes. They go to the heart of institutional credibility.
HCA today is not short of regulations. It is not short of judicial oversight either. Telangana High Court-appointed Supervisory and Monitoring Committee (SMC) exists precisely to restore order, transparency, and constitutional governance. Yet, on the ground, the perception among long-time stakeholders is starkly different: decisions appear unilateral, communication sporadic, and accountability blurred.
The association, by its own records and claims, is custodian of assets and revenues running into tens of crores. With such scale comes responsibility—financial, legal, and moral. Yet stakeholders are increasingly left in the dark about who is authorised to run leagues, sanction tournaments, or represent HCA at the district level. When authority is diffuse, it becomes fertile ground for patronage networks, private academy interests, and power brokers to step in and fill the vacuum.
This is where the line between stakeholder participation and nepotism begins to blur.
Cricket administration is not meant to be an exclusive club. It is a representative system, built on affiliated units, elected bodies, and constitutional processes. When individuals outside this framework begin to “call the shots,” the entire governance model is undermined. The danger is not merely procedural—it is systemic. Young players, parents, and local clubs start believing that access, proximity, or allegiance matters more than performance, structure, and fair process.
Even more troubling is the silence—or perceived silence—of the very bodies meant to enforce compliance.
Supreme Court and High Court directives and constitutional provisions are not ornamental. They are binding. Yet, stakeholders repeatedly ask: where are these being publicly communicated? Why are circulars, decisions, and administrative orders not transparently placed on official platforms? Why are affiliated units not consulted on major structural or operational changes?
Two dangerous trends have clearly set in.
First, a growing lack of clarity over “who does what.” When roles are undefined, accountability disappears. Second, a widening trust deficit between the administration and the grassroots. Clubs and district bodies, many of which have served Hyderabad cricket for decades, increasingly feel reduced to spectators in an institution they helped build.
For those of us who have spent years within the system—fighting corruption, resisting pressure, and trying to preserve institutional integrity—this moment is deeply disheartening. The irony is painful: those who once stood on the sidelines are now positioning themselves as power centres, while formal structures are either bypassed or rendered ornamental.
I have formally written to the state-appointed judge overseeing HCA’s day-to-day administration, laying out these concerns in detail. The intent is not confrontation, but course correction. Judicial oversight, by itself, cannot substitute for informed, cricket-savvy governance. Receiving complaints is only the first step; restoring confidence requires visible, structural action.
One practical solution is both simple and effective: constitute a small, independent advisory committee of three to five members. Draw them from former international and first-class cricketers of impeccable credibility, past office-bearers with clean records, long-serving club secretaries who understand grassroots realities, and perhaps one upright journalist who has chronicled the game without fear or favour. Such a body would not wield executive power, but it would provide grounded, informed guidance—exactly what a complex, tradition-rich institution like HCA needs at this crossroads.
Hyderabad cricket does not suffer from a lack of talent. It suffers from a crisis of trust.
No institution can thrive when decisions are perceived as selective, when stakeholders feel excluded, and when transparency becomes optional. Governance by proximity and patronage is not reform—it is regression.
The ball is now firmly in the court of those entrusted with oversight. They can allow this drift to continue, or they can intervene decisively to restore constitutional order, stakeholder confidence, and administrative clarity. The choice will determine whether HCA remains a cautionary tale—or reclaims its legacy as one of Indian cricket’s proud, professionally run institutions.
For the sake of the thousands of young cricketers who dream in nets, maidans, and school grounds across Telangana, one hopes it is the latter.
