When cricket becomes the property of a few, the game loses its soul — and thousands of dreams perish silently. The Telangana Cricket Association (TCA) was born not from privilege, but from protest — a movement against years of neglect, elitism, and administrative monopoly that had gripped the Hyderabad Cricket Association (HCA).
It all began with a tournament that rewrote the idea of inclusivity in Telangana cricket — the Telangana Gold Cup. Far from being a one-off event, it was the seed of a vision that would redefine grassroots cricket. Conducted during the 2014–15 season, the first Telangana Gold Cup united 64 town-based teams across five carefully chosen locations. It was not just an event, but a blueprint for how cricket should be — accessible, fair, and genuinely representative.
From a pool of nearly 900 players identified from across the new state, 128 were shortlisted purely on merit. The selection ratio — one in nine — was a meticulous, transparent process that evaluated skill and performance alone. During the same period, HCA was under the leadership of Arshad Ayub, John Manoj, and Narender Goud. Yet, while TCA was scouting rural diamonds, HCA remained entrenched within Hyderabad’s narrow confines.
Despite detailed match reports, score sheets, and player profiles submitted by TCA, HCA refused to acknowledge or even review them. The question naturally arises — on what cricketing principle can a state association dismiss the achievements of its own players simply because they come from outside the capital city?
This was not an oversight; it was an attitude — one that saw inclusivity as intrusion and reform as rebellion.
The contrast was stark:
- While HCA confined its cricketing activities within city boundaries, TCA spread the game to all 33 districts of Telangana.
- While HCA’s “district cricket” existed largely on paper, TCA was organizing real tournaments with real players on real pitches.
- While HCA operated through exclusivity, TCA’s model was built on equity and opportunity.
This wasn’t a rivalry between two associations — it was a confrontation between monopoly and meritocracy.
TCA’s journey had a deeper purpose. It sought to democratize cricket across Telangana, giving a boy from Nizamabad or Adilabad the same chance as one from Jubilee Hills. The 2015 Gold Cup proved that talent is not the monopoly of metros. It thrives in the heartlands — waiting only for recognition.
Yet, recognition never came.
The TCA formally applied for BCCI membership in 2016, but its roots trace back to 1986, when a few visionaries first dreamt of creating a platform for equal cricketing opportunity. When I and a group of committed administrators, players, and enthusiasts revived the association in 2014–15, they did so in line with the BCCI’s revised constitution and the spirit of the Lodha Committee’s reforms, which emphasized transparency, decentralization, and grassroots participation.
What followed was an extraordinary example of commitment. Without any government or institutional funding, the TCA leadership personally financed and organized over 70 BCCI-format tournaments across the state. Thousands of young cricketers — especially from rural and semi-urban regions — were given exposure, coaching, and competition.
It was the kind of work that the HCA, with all its access and resources, should have done long ago.
While HCA became synonymous with internal conflict, administrative paralysis, and repeated interventions by the courts, TCA quietly built a parallel model — transparent, people-driven, and compliant with the spirit of cricket governance envisioned by the BCCI.
In the process, TCA also took the legal route to question alleged irregularities within the HCA, filing criminal complaints and petitions seeking transparency. The association survived financial hardship, institutional resistance, and procedural delays — but not once did it abandon its mission.
Today, the contrast between the two bodies could not be sharper. On one side stands the HCA — struggling with credibility, caught in a web of disputes, and under continuous scrutiny. On the other stands the TCA — self-made, lawful, and committed to expanding cricket’s reach where it matters most: the grassroots.
The BCCI now faces a crucial test of its own reforms. The Lodha Committee’s recommendations and the BCCI’s new constitution were designed precisely to end such monopolies and promote inclusive, accountable governance. Telangana offers the perfect opportunity to show that those principles are not just rhetoric.
The choice before BCCI is simple: Will it continue to back an association mired in legal and administrative controversies, or will it recognize an organization that has, against all odds, upheld the true spirit of cricket and the Lodha vision?
TCA’s credentials are built on verifiable merit — transparent selection, genuine district representation, and an unwavering commitment to fair play. It has done everything expected of a modern cricketing body, often at personal cost and without institutional backing.
If the BCCI truly believes in decentralization and transparency, the recognition of TCA is not just justified — it is overdue.
The TCA’s story is not merely a chapter in Telangana’s cricketing history; it is a testament to resilience and integrity in the face of institutional arrogance. It represents the rise of real Telangana cricket — from dusty grounds to legitimate recognition.
Because the future of Telangana’s cricket does not lie in the boardrooms of HCA.
It lives in the playgrounds of Warangal, Karimnagar, and Nizamabad — where young players still dream, play, and wait for their chance.
It is time to open the gates.
The game — and Telangana — deserve it. (The author is the founder secretary of TCA)
