Green channel

This follows Prem’s post on the issue.

If I were Sony, I’d be very scared of this information and broadcasting ministry. The IPL is due to start on April 18, which is just over three weeks from today. In this time, the ministry could decide that the IPL is a matter of national importance. Perhaps (heh) the second half of the tournament - the bit where Sony execs see advertising rates hitting over 5 lakhs for ten seconds - could be of national importance. And there won’t be any warning. Just like last time, when on October 19, exactly two weeks before Pakistan played in India, the Test series was deemed to be of national importance. So I’d wrap up my advertising deals pretty quickly, and make sure they were darn watertight. 

Anyway, I had heard from an official at Doordarshan that it makes no money on cricket. In fact, it loses money. She wished the 75-25% deal with Nimbus didn’t exist (for those who don’t know, while Nimbus gets to keep its own advertising revenue, DD has to give 75% of the ad revenue it earns to Nimbus in return for taking the feed).

Now here’s an interview from 2005 (by Anjan Mitra of Indiantelevision.com) with KS Sarma, who was then CEO of Prasar Bharati:

Revenue generation seems to be the latest mantra in Prasar Bharati. Is that why the organization lobbied hard with the government to have laws favouring it where sports content, especially cricket, is concerned?
Why not ? Prasar Bharati’s reach amongst the masses, which is the target for the government, is maximum amongst all broadcasters present in India. And, what’s the big issue with cricket? That cricket is a big revenue earner for us is a big misconception. Moreover, the laws that you are referring to have been enacted by the government so that a huge chunk of the population that does not have access to cable and satellite TV gets to see quality sports, which may include cricket.

He goes on to say:

However, cricket helps DD in retaining viewership for other programmes. The chances of a viewer sticking around after a cricket match to check out the programme following it, is high. Feedback from TAM has indicated this and we are trying to capitalize on this.

Perhaps it hasn’t struck him and his colleagues that cricket isn’t just a loss leader for Doordarshan. When Sony promises hundreds of millions, it expects to barely break even. What it knows is that the “chances of a viewer sticking around after a cricket match to check out the programme following it, is high”. You make money on the edges.

But here’s another thing to think about. However you do the math, you can’t really make money off Indian cricket. It’s not a new trend. While it speaks about another country, here’s a bit from a 2003 edit, titled “Sports broadcast rights may head back to earth”:

The old economic model for TV sports is dated. The strategy among execs used to be that if they couldn’t recoup their investment in broadcast contracts, they could always use the games’ huge audiences as a one-of-a-kind opportunity to promote their prime-time lineups and other network programming. But today, the people watching sports are mostly men, and the people watching prime-time shows are mostly women. “Begrudgingly, executives are beginning to realize that sports is not a loss leader anymore, either,” says Richard A. Bilotti, a media analyst at Morgan Stanley. He estimates that sports losses wipe out about 40% of all profits from prime-time programs.

This is why you find fewer companies bidding for cricket rights. 

And here’s something handy for you to throw at government when it next talks about other countries making it mandatory for sporting events to be shown on terrestrial television. The other countries it is likely referring to have more than one terrestrial network, and they bid for rights.

Besides this, Nimbus’s grouse is perfectly valid. It’s been a year, and the signals have still not been encrypted. What this means is that this signal goes out to Pakistan, Sri Lanka, perhaps even the middle east and south east asia - all markets where Nimbus has sold broadcast rights. It also means, in a way, that DD’s DTH platform (subscriber base of over four million), regardless of where its subscribers live - city or countryside - will receive the broadcast. So this goes against the I&B ministry’s line that this is for people who don’t have access. Secondly, because it’s available on DTH as a free-to-air, why would anyone want to carry Nimbus’s Neo? If you’re Neo, you buggered. The DTH guys don’t want you, the cable guys sure as hell aren’t going to pay you. You’re so buggered.

Anyway, good luck to Sony. This is one messed up ministry.

In a remarkable story that completely misses the point, Sharad Pawar says something quite surprising. Here’s the relevant bit: 

Pawar said that it was on Tendulkar’s advice that youngsters were given an opportunity in the Twenty20 squad, which went on to win the World Cup in South Africa last September.

“I was in England when we were playing them. Sachin met me and suggested ‘I know you don’t interfere with the team selection but you please tell the selectors not to include players of my generation in the Twenty20 squad’. He said ‘my generation is not fit for Twenty20, so give opportunity to the youngsters’,” Pawar said.

This seems like a bit of legend-building by Pawar. If it isn’t, what’s Tendulkar doing recommending that selectors shouldn’t pick him, Dravid, and Ganguly? It completely contradicts what Vengsarkar said last year:

“I got a call from Rahul today morning who said on behalf of all the three players that they were opting out of the Twenty20 World Cup,” Vengsarkar had said.

And in an interview with the Hindu, Vengsarkar said:

“Rahul did not give any particular reason, but I presume they want a break and be fresh for the home international season and also for the tour of Australia,” Vengsarkar told The Hindu.

So was Tendulkar acting after speaking with Dravid and Ganguly? Or was he acting alone? If he was, this is shocking behavior. Pawar didn’t really have to talk about it, but as Prem suggested over an email, it might have something to do with the fuss over Dhoni’s comments about team selection (Fuss here. Dhoni’s comments here). Whatever it is, I think Pawar has inadvertantly put his foot in it, and got Tendulkar involved in a needless issue. Anyway, this should be fun.

And by the by, would you trust a chief of selectors who didn’t know exactly why three of his top players were sitting out a world cup, and would only presume they wanted a break?

My piece appeared on Rediff.com yesterday.

It is in no small part due to the ICL that a certain class of cricketer can now be concerned about the whimsies of the stock market. In a warm hotel room in Chandigarh, this is indeed what Dhruv Mahajan is presently worrying about. Mahajan is 28 and to be married in one month. Now he’s a member of the Indian Cricket League with the Delhi Giants, a world away from the Jammu and Kashmir Ranji side he represented since 1999, and even led for four years. “Aaj bhi bada dard hai,” he says, wrapped in a quilt. CNBC, on mute, has only bad news for him. “Now whoever puts his money in, bhool jaaye ek saal ke liye. I say thanks to ICL maine itna paisa uda diya iss pe.”

‘Paisa uda diya’ is an unlikely declaration coming from a domestic cricketer. To blow it, they have to have some of it first. The ICL struck at the very heart of this issue. Of course, of the several reasons players of any age choose to join the league, they will mention money least of all. It is a very good reason because Mahajan and other players like him, such as Abid Nabi, his roommate (and teammate from J&K) who is currently sprawled on the floor just listening, earn around Rs 25 lakh a year with incentives. “The first factor is monetary, but log apne mooh se nahi kahengey,” Mahajan says, lifting a finger to his lips. And he’s right. The other night, a player who participated in two world cups would only say, “I get to play with stars.” This he would say repeatedly, disregarding the actual question.

Mahajan, who averages 28 point something in first class cricket, and Nabi were sounded out by scouts soon after the ICL was announced in April. They were told of the league and its financial packages, and left to think about it. When it was decided that they were interested, Zee officials sent them a more complete plan. In months, the BCCI would announce its league and ban a raft of players. This posed questions for players: What were the repercussions, what did it offer, how did it compare with what they had now? Nabi considered staying back to play for his state, and weighed his options: Money, opportunity, exposure in one corner. No exposure, little money, and certainly no backing in the other. “Bahut sawaal aaye dimaag mein. I did think about it, but also thought that if I did not perform in the future, what would happen?”

“When we shifted here,” Mahajan says, “everybody knew they were taking a big step. There was no talk of amalgamation or this making up between the leagues. So everybody knew what they were doing.” He says it’s incomprehensible why the BCCI would ban players. “See, ICL players are not against Indian cricket. Nobody is. So I don’t know why…” He said he could have waited for the IPL to happen, but who knew what would happen if his personal form dipped? “A bird in the hand is better than two behind the bush.”

Mahajan and Nabi have heard – only heard, they insist – that their share of revenue for the 2006-07 season is being stopped. For J&K, that season ended in December 2006. “The check still hasn’t come,” Mahajan says. “Aur ab aayega bhi nahi,” Nabi adds. They laugh at this, unsurprised if no money comes their way. When you’re young, Mahajan says, you come in to the dressing room for the first time and it hits you that cricket comes with a lot of nonsense attached. In Mahajan’s retelling, they would travel by normal three-tier when they were entitled to beds in second-AC. They would be permitted a daily allowance of Rs150 when the rule book stated Rs500. The BCCI would ask them to take up the matter with the host association. Eventually the problem was solved when Niranajan Shah called up the association. “In announcing these things they’re very prompt. But not in giving.” Laughter.

“If you have financial security, you can focus on your game,” Mahajan says. “ICL gives you that. A common guy comes here, he’s financially secure. He can focus on his game. The pressure that exists in state teams is not here. If you don’t perform for two games in J&K, you’re out. Then you say that he had a bad year. He plays two in five games, and it’s a year for him?” His detailed stories of J&K are hair-raising. There are tales of team instability, selectors and coaches discouraging promising cricketers, and the lack of overall opportunity. It impacted earnings seriously, and neither would there be enough games to play. “Over here, you are yourself. You are your own boss. Only your own performance matters. That’s all you have to do.

“But this is how things should have worked in every state team. I’ll give you a very good example. Here, we’ve played three matches. First match we won, second match we lost one-sided. We were never in the game. If this was J&K, half the team would have been out. [Points and laughs ‘Nikalo!”] But we played the same team in the third match and won one-sided. Yahaan pe stability hai.”

Mahajan is animated about this, and as he goes about it, Nabi sits there like he’s heard it before. “Cricketer ko akhir sirf cricket chahiye. And, look, money matters. In Ranji, if you make a guy sit out for one game, he earns Rs 70,000 instead of Rs 1,40,000. Half the money is gone. It’ll keep playing on his mind. It’s human psyche. In ICL, if you’re sitting out, and if your team wins, you get an equal share. So you’re happy because your team is winning. In every way, ICL is better. Cricket-wise, money-wise, standard-wise. You can say “Country! Country!” all you want, but not everybody can represent the country. Those who couldn’t represent it came here. They have come here with a grudge, with a point to prove.”
It is his belief that the IPL is not for everybody. “Fine, both ICL and IPL are cash rich. But in IPL, the cash has gone to the rich guys only. What we’ve heard is that players like Mithun Manhas and others are being paid 20 lakhs.”

It was all quite cloak and dagger last year in J&K. Only Mahajan and Nabi knew they were leaving for the ICL. It became an inside joke, and now their friends want in. “They tell us, ‘You’ve done your own work, abhi apna kaam bhi karva lo’.” They say a number of cricketers, grown tired of a poisonous atmosphere, would like nothing better than to move. This is where they come from: “Once, after we lost a game, this selector wanted to change the team. I told him to give me a chance with this team, and he agreed on the condition that if we lost, I’d do exactly what he said. I lost, and 22 players played in five one-day games. Twenty-two players! Where else does that happen?”

The list of complaints is rather long-winded, and you’ve probably heard it all before, like Nabi has. So we won’t go there. This is domestic cricket, and hopefully cricket as it used to be. Perhaps ICL was ill-conceived, and there’s a good chance it won’t catch on. But a domestic cricketer can now worry about his stock portfolio. Really, how cool is that?

This piece appeared in Rediff. 

A strange thing happened yesterday. The stands were fuller than before. The crowd was noisier. Why, after two days of cricket bereft of any emotional attachment – or ‘emotional connect’, as the organizers would probably call it – was there life in the stands? It’s because the people behind it, having done their research after the December series, went back to basics and came up with the answer to their problems: the Lahore Badshahs. If Pakistan couldn’t be got, the Badshahs would be Pakistan. It was a gimmick if there ever was one. But how the crowd responded.

These are confusing times for the cricket fan. He doesn’t really know who to root for. All sorts of teams vie for brand loyalty. And so, the organizers figured, if you don’t know who to cheer, we’ll give you somebody to boo. An administrative officer sidled up after a Lahore bowler was hit for four, and said, “This is what they hoped for. Parochialism. They wanted to get a Pakistan team for this reaction only.” Below, the crowd clapped and hooted.

Perhaps they will point to greater television ratings or a larger crowd than there has been so far. But the Lahore team’s induction is like a band aid for a headache. The crowd was almost united in its feelings for the Badshahs (do note that the crowd feels this strongly for no other team in this league). This has not gone unnoticed. Now the league’s organizers casually discuss the possibility of acquiring players and dividing them along national lines - Colombo, Melbourne, etc. That if the lines that separate us and them are clear once again, the league will grow. This thinking is a step back from what the league set out to do, and it tones down their objective. If we’ve got this right, they want to set up entire national teams, and pay them too? And they still insist that the ICC and BCCI have no reason to be bothered?

If all this seems arbitrary, it probably is. Insiders admit they don’t always understand how the organization functions. “Right or wrong,” one administrator said in response to a question about the league’s announcement when nothing had been finalized, “that’s the way the board functions.” Another official, insisting on anonymity, said, “How this goes depends on whether [they] stop talking and actually follow through with [their] plans. There’s no point in just talking big.”

Has any issue been of greater importance than that of identity? The ICL began as something innovative, and now, finding that they declared their plans in haste, are beginning to think that maybe international cricket is a good idea. The most outlandish idea heard today was that one major ICL aim is to put up a team that will play against Australia, South Africa, and anyone else. They are also open to teams being acquired by private buyers; this comes only weeks after Kapil Dev expressed his dismay at players being auctioned. This means that it’s okay for a cluster of players to be bought, but doing it individually somehow demeans them. At the same time, they plan an academy in Panchkula by May.

It seems, for one thing, that the ICL seeks redemption through validation by the ICC. On the other, they seek it but want to continue building a base of cricketers to rival the BCCI crop. “There are enough people who are not selected by the BCCI,” the official who mentioned parochialism said. “They can join us.” But here’s the thing: who, in his right mind, likes leftovers? And here’s another: what are you really trying to do?

Thirty seconds ago a schedule for the tournament was dropped on my desk. The fine print caught my eye because I’ve never seen fine print on a basic schedule: ‘This is not a ticket’.

Well, it’s not like the gates are under siege. I can see three hundred people in the stands. Maybe these things should have been tickets.

If the ICC could take back its big decision of June 26, 2000, it probably would.

The ICC’s cricket telecast rights were on sale. Zee bid $625 million, a bigger sum than anyone else. But they weren’t given the rights. These were instead awarded to WSG-Nimbus, who put up $550 million. Zee felt aggrieved, and swore racism.

David Richards, the ICC’s chief executive, said the claim was “ridiculous”. “The decision taken by the group was, I say, on commercial grounds and it was in the best interests of the long term development of international cricket in all parts of the world.”

Best interests of the long term development of international cricket? What could he possibly mean? Perhaps Nimbus, that bastion of corporate ethics (do read this list), would further the game’s development (They did, in a way. Nimbus, which didn’t have a channel of its own, sold the rights to Sony, which did. So that’s what the ICC meant.).

Anyone with half a brain can read through this bull. The money a board gets for its rights is put to developmental use. And even if a broadcaster has limited reach – which Zee did not – rights can be tossed off to other channels in Australia, Japan, the US, wherever, for a price. Instead the rights went to a marketing agent for $75 million lower than the highest bid.

Then, in 2004, the BCCI invited bids for television rights, which Zee won again. Except that it didn’t. ESPN-Star matched Zee’s highest offer, and were awarded the rights. The matter went to court for a year. Meanwhile, fresh bids were announced. Nimbus, after assisting Zee on the bid, went out and bid on its own – to Zee’s horror – and acquired the rights. Zee, who had the next highest bid, was left hanging. The reason for the impasse in 2004 was because Zee apparently had no experience in cricket production. Anyone, absolutely anyone in broadcasting will tell you that’s just a dumb excuse. To put together a live sports event is a no-brainer. Producers are contracted – heck, you can put together a team within two days just on the phone – and at the end of the series, they leave, as do the cameramen and support staff, to work on another event. So why were the rights given to ESPN-Star?

Rebuffed twice, so is it any wonder that Zee would be mad as hell? Subhash Chandra wanted cricket in some form. Incidentally, thoughts of mutiny had first occurred to him when the ICC gave him a miss. This time it took the form of the ICL.

It’s unlikely that the IPL would have moved beyond its conceptual stage so quickly had it not been for Chandra’s ICL. In 2006, shortly after coming to power, Modi mentioned to me in an interview that he had envisioned cricket played between cities (Disclaimer: I adored Modi then). But then he said he’d do a lot of things, including building a cricket museum.

And now, thanks to the IPL, we’re seeing the start of a clash for the international calendar. It isn’t looking good for the ICC. But they only have themselves to blame for what’s coming their way.

Bal Thackeray laments the corruption of cricket in an open letter to Sharad Pawar:

“Cricketers are being purchased as a result this their concentration will not be in the game and the sport will decline in this country,” he warned.

“If this is how industrialists wield their money then a day will come when there will be no need of government because it will be the industrialists who will call the shots and run the country,” Thackeray said.

That’ll be the day, Mr Thackeray.

Bill James can be credited with popularising sabermetrics - the study of numbers in baseball. I’ve put up an interview of his with Surowiecki here after a back and forth in the comments with Srivaths. Will numbers grow to reveal more in cricket than they do now? If effectiveness is a team’s goal, then yes.

Here’s a Q&A that caught me:

Surowiecki: Finally, do you think most baseball teams will eventually adapt, and incorporate sabermetrics into the way they work on a day-to-day basis? Or will there always be a Pope to the sabermetrician’s Galileo?

James: There will always be people who are ahead of the curve, and people who are behind the curve. But knowledge moves the curve.

Spot on. In-depth knowledge of a player’s worth takes the whole enterprise forward. This is so true for the IPL. Do read the whole interview.

Update: Also check out Cricinfo’s new numbers blog, It Figures. Corny name aside, the analysis is interesting.

I’ve never quite liked Charu Sharma’s moderation. A little too smug for his own good on television. But he’s refreshing to have around when idiocy is starring on television. The other night on NDTV, Latika Khaneja, Ajay Jadeja, and Ram Madhvani were tossing up various reasons why the league would and wouldn’t work. Madhvani almost fell of his chair trying to make a point. He was forceful, and persuasive. But Charu, who wasn’t in the studio, wouldn’t bite. “Ram,” he began, “we know you have an IQ of 444[ed-something like it], but…” I forget the rest. But before he began, as he listened to Sonali, he had a smile I’d seen somewhere before on television. The kind of smile that says, “You fool, which world do you live in?” It was by Harish Thawani, early last year, on a split screen with Dasmunshi, with the minister raving about India not being a “banana country” [he meant republic], and that everyone had the right to watch cricket.

Charu finally has a good place on television.