All Out Cricket’s Pakistan correspondent Hassan Muzaffar Cheema says the three Pakistani cricketers sent to jail for their role in spot-fixing are the products of deeply ingrained corruption.
Three weeks after the News of the World drove a stake through the heart of Pakistan cricket, Ijaz Butt accused the England cricket team of being involved in match-fixing. The world admonished and laughed at him. Pakistanis, likewise, joined in the laughter. But their laughter was different; more nervous than others’. There is a part in each Pakistani that believes that everything is crooked – including the England national team. Now it may sound ridiculous to the outsider but for anyone who has grown up on two decades of whispers, rumours and a farcical court inquiry, accusations of match-fixing are always believable.
Three young men – each the breadwinner of his family – have now been sent to prison, and rightfully so. But to think that this is the end of this matter or that this will provide a deterrent to such future behavior is naïve. Some have argued that the ICC’s Anti-Corruption and Security Unit (ACSU), with the help of Interpol, can now start with the cleansing of the game’s underbelly. Well, amongst those named in the Qayyum inquiry as being involved in the match-fixing sagas of the 90s was a certain Dawood Ibrahim: a man who now roams free despite his alleged involvement in far greater crimes than the influencing of a mere sporting occasion. He surely isn’t alone; such men are what the ICC faces if it wants to rid the game of vice – and for some reason, I am not too optimistic.
If honesty is to be brought back into the game (although it is arguable whether it was there in the first place), then the cricket community has to clean its own house. In the aftermath of the NotW revelations, I have written on mediagag.com about the people who were to be blamed for this and four of them have recently been regular visitors to Southwark Crown Court. But what of any other figures in the set-up? It’s surely ridiculous to think nobody else was aware of this.
Then we have the players themselves. Since cricket’s big bang in Pakistan, brought about in the 1980s due to a combination of TV, ODIs, Sharjah and Imran, a vast number of Pakistani cricketers have come from impoverished backgrounds, often from small towns and villages. Their life-story usually goes like this: a supremely talented kid is brought into first-class cricket, often spotted by an ex-cricketer. He rises above the pool of sifarish (literally recommendation, but has far darker undertones to it) to reach first-class cricket. Here he has to deal with favouritism, low wages and public interest, and try to be noticed by the national selectors.
Even success in this is no guarantee to climbing the ladder: Fawad Alam has dominated the domestic circuit in a way that would make Brad Hodge feel mediocre, yet finds himself not even considered for national selection. Even if one rises above this and gets to play with the big boys, he gets into the Pakistan cricket team: a world of dishonest history, considered pariahs throughout the world, filled with groups divided upon ethnic, social or economic lines (the only time they get together is in a mutiny). Even here, meritocracy is no guarantee (Younis Khan has averaged almost 60 since the start of 2004. In 2009, he led Pakistan to the World Twenty20 title; since then he has played in 11 of the 25 matches Pakistan have played!).
And yet, in this world of dishonesty and Machiavellian politics, we ask young men – often teenagers – to go out and play sincerely for their country. And if they fail, then we always have a few effigies lying around. We complain that the players have tarnished the image of the country. But what could be more representative of this Pakistan than a group of supremely talented (well, two out of three anyway) artists who practise their craft with no deal of remorse and morality. There’s a saying in Pakistan naik woh hai jisse moqa nahi mila (an honest man is one who hasn’t been given a chance to be dishonest yet). And this saying is accepted as gospel, yet we act shocked when it is revealed that such a society can, and does, produce dishonest individuals.
Now, we sacrifice three virgins to the gods of corruption, and then we shall go on our merry ways. It’s my view that some time from now – it could be a few days or it could be a few years – we will have to sacrifice more virgins for the sake of the tribe, particularly its chieftains. And we shall again be left aghast when it is proven that corrupt societies breed corrupt individuals. Until the day we have our enlightenment and stop worshipping to the gods of corruption, we will not be rid of these spirits that haunt us.
Hassan is a sports nerd who writes mostly about international cricket and European football at mediagag.com. You can also follow him on Twitter.
An Honest Man Is One Who Hasn’t Been Given A Chance To Be Dishonest Yet….
All Out Cricket’s Pakistan correspondent Hassan Muzaffar Cheema says the three Pakistani cricketers sent to jail for their role in spot-fixing are the products of deeply ingrained corruption.
Three weeks after the News of the World drove a stake through the heart of Pakistan cricket, Ijaz Butt accused the England cricket team of being involved in match-fixing. The world admonished and laughed at him. Pakistanis, likewise, joined in the laughter. But their laughter was different; more nervous than others’. There is a part in each Pakistani that believes that everything is crooked – including the England national team. Now it may sound ridiculous to the outsider but for anyone who has grown up on two decades of whispers, rumours and a farcical court inquiry, accusations of match-fixing are always believable.
Three young men – each the breadwinner of his family – have now been sent to prison, and rightfully so. But to think that this is the end of this matter or that this will provide a deterrent to such future behavior is naïve. Some have argued that the ICC’s Anti-Corruption and Security Unit (ACSU), with the help of Interpol, can now start with the cleansing of the game’s underbelly. Well, amongst those named in the Qayyum inquiry as being involved in the match-fixing sagas of the 90s was a certain Dawood Ibrahim: a man who now roams free despite his alleged involvement in far greater crimes than the influencing of a mere sporting occasion. He surely isn’t alone; such men are what the ICC faces if it wants to rid the game of vice – and for some reason, I am not too optimistic.
If honesty is to be brought back into the game (although it is arguable whether it was there in the first place), then the cricket community has to clean its own house. In the aftermath of the NotW revelations, I have written on mediagag.com about the people who were to be blamed for this and four of them have recently been regular visitors to Southwark Crown Court. But what of any other figures in the set-up? It’s surely ridiculous to think nobody else was aware of this.
Then we have the players themselves. Since cricket’s big bang in Pakistan, brought about in the 1980s due to a combination of TV, ODIs, Sharjah and Imran, a vast number of Pakistani cricketers have come from impoverished backgrounds, often from small towns and villages. Their life-story usually goes like this: a supremely talented kid is brought into first-class cricket, often spotted by an ex-cricketer. He rises above the pool of sifarish (literally recommendation, but has far darker undertones to it) to reach first-class cricket. Here he has to deal with favouritism, low wages and public interest, and try to be noticed by the national selectors.
Even success in this is no guarantee to climbing the ladder: Fawad Alam has dominated the domestic circuit in a way that would make Brad Hodge feel mediocre, yet finds himself not even considered for national selection. Even if one rises above this and gets to play with the big boys, he gets into the Pakistan cricket team: a world of dishonest history, considered pariahs throughout the world, filled with groups divided upon ethnic, social or economic lines (the only time they get together is in a mutiny). Even here, meritocracy is no guarantee (Younis Khan has averaged almost 60 since the start of 2004. In 2009, he led Pakistan to the World Twenty20 title; since then he has played in 11 of the 25 matches Pakistan have played!).
And yet, in this world of dishonesty and Machiavellian politics, we ask young men – often teenagers – to go out and play sincerely for their country. And if they fail, then we always have a few effigies lying around. We complain that the players have tarnished the image of the country. But what could be more representative of this Pakistan than a group of supremely talented (well, two out of three anyway) artists who practise their craft with no deal of remorse and morality. There’s a saying in Pakistan naik woh hai jisse moqa nahi mila (an honest man is one who hasn’t been given a chance to be dishonest yet). And this saying is accepted as gospel, yet we act shocked when it is revealed that such a society can, and does, produce dishonest individuals.
Now, we sacrifice three virgins to the gods of corruption, and then we shall go on our merry ways. It’s my view that some time from now – it could be a few days or it could be a few years – we will have to sacrifice more virgins for the sake of the tribe, particularly its chieftains. And we shall again be left aghast when it is proven that corrupt societies breed corrupt individuals. Until the day we have our enlightenment and stop worshipping to the gods of corruption, we will not be rid of these spirits that haunt us.
Hassan is a sports nerd who writes mostly about international cricket and European football at mediagag.com. You can also follow him on Twitter.