Cricket: Cricket Can Become Country's Number One Sport, Says Soper As Ecb Chairmanship Decision Looms

Mike Soper is favorite to become new chairman of the ECB, after Lord Morris confirmed he will not stand.
Mike Soper's sense of urgency is perfectly understandable. For as he watched England play India from the Grandstand here yesterday, the favourite to become the chairman of the England and Wales Cricket Board next month knew that he may not be alive for India's next visit in 2011. Nominations to succeed David Morgan in one of the leading jobs in world cricket close this afternoon and the heavily supported Soper is expected to beat Somerset's Giles Clarke in a two-horse race. Six-and-a-half years ago the 61-year-old Soper, who has bone and prostate cancer, was told he had only six months to live. He was chairman of Surrey then and John Major, the former prime minister who became the club's president, gave him some important contacts in America who extended his life. "I've been told I've got four years left," he said yesterday. "But I've been told that within that time a vaccine will come out. I'm trying out different drugs. Some work, some fail - they've put me on a steroid which means I have to go to the gym every day. But I will die of bone cancer, so you can see why I've become passionate. This is my final ambition but this would be only the start because there are so many things I want to do within the game." Soper, who has been nominated by Surrey and seconded by Sussex and Derbyshire, is expected to beat off the challenge of Clarke, a leading player in the TV deal which saw live Test cricket removed from terrestrial networks. Bill Morris, the former general secretary of the Transport and General Workers Union who is a non-executive member of the ECB management board, has his backers. But Lord Morris, 68, confirmed last night that he would not be standing. "It has always been my position that I would not be a candidate," he said. "There has been speculation and encouragement from others but I've decided that I will not be a candidate." The result of the ballot will be confirmed on August 28. Morgan steps down at the end of September to take over as chairman of the International Cricket Council. Soper, opinionated and eloquent, will make his voice heard, just as he did in his eight years leading Surrey, where he was behind a number of initiatives as the club's membership doubled to almost 9,000. "I still feel cricket can become the number one sport in this country," he said, a touch optimistically. "A lot of people say I lost the last election against Lord McLaurin because I said then that cricket could take on soccer. But that came true, briefly, the other day, when the Liverpool-Aston Villa game was watched by fewer people than attended a Twenty20 game. Twenty20 is our way forward. "I still love the four and five day games but I believe you've got to get the youngsters to watch. I started watching when I was eight or nine with my Dad. I wasn't prepared to sit there for three days and kids today won't either. I want to get young people in - even free of charge if necessary - because everyone remembers his first game. Then they come back." When Surrey won the county championship in 1999 Soper had the idea of setting prices for their final match of the season at 1971 levels, the year they previously won the title. "We had the most wonderful atmosphere, we gained 170 new members and my postbag was full with letters from people thanking us," he said." On another occasion, on the last day of a Test match between England and the West Indies, he opened the executive boxes to the public, charging everyone £10. "We filled out the whole lot and not a bottle of beer was stolen," he said. Fascinated by naval history, he describes himself as a "Nelson lunatic" and once possessed a large collection of cutlasses and a small cannon. He plays the piano, though hot as well as his father. "I revere my father," he says. "I still wear his old gold watch and talk to him every day and he always puts me straight. He told me to always be honest because that way I wouldn't have any competition."

Exhausted Tait Quits Cricket Indefinitely

Cricket: Australian Test bowler Shaun Tait has taken an indefinite break from the game due to physical and emotional fatigue
Cricket Australia today revealed that the Test bowler Shaun Tait is to take an indefinite break from cricket due to physical and emotional exhaustion. In a statement released by the governing body, the 24-year-old Tait said an absence from the game would "hopefully give me a clear mind and a chance for my body to rest and recover". No time frame on a return to the game has been placed on Tait, who will sit out Friday night's KFC Twenty20 clash against India in Melbourne and the forthcoming Commonwealth Bank Series. He will also be unavailable for inter-state duties with South Australia. "This is a very difficult situation for me to be in at this time, this is not an overnight decision but something that I've been struggling with for some time," said Tait. "A break from professional cricket will hopefully give me a clear mind and a chance for my body to rest and recover. My love and enjoyment of the game is struggling due to these issues and if I continue to go on it will be unfair on my team-mates and support staff of both the Australian and South Australian cricket teams - and most importantly my family and close friends." Tait had shoulder surgery following the 2005 Ashes series and also had an operation last year to repair an elbow injury. That, according to the South Australian Cricket Association medical officer Terry Farquharson, led to Tait also suffering "ongoing pain as well as suffering intermittent low back and hamstring injuries". "The combination of his injury history and the demands of being an elite professional cricketer has affected his physical, and significantly, his emotional well-being," Farquharson said. "Shaun feels he needs a rest from cricket and I support this, which will allow him to recover both physically and emotionally."

A Surly Shoaib is the Finest Sight in Cricket

No bowler was so spectacular as Shoaib Akhtar, it's just a shame that these days he's more often got a mic in his hand than a ball, writes Andy Bull
The coming of British summer time has just about dragged my spirits out of winter. The county cricket season starts on April 10. And while by the end of it there'll be plenty of reasons to be sick of it, right now I feel nothing but sweet anticipation of long days spent boundary-side in the company of a few sandwich-chomping fellow spectators. It's a kind of pre-emptive reverie. The news wire snap that Shoaib Akhtar had been banned for five years by the PCB sent my mind meandering back to a hot afternoon in September 2005. September 4 in fact, a date I'm precise about only because I looked up the scorecard. That was four days before the start of the final Ashes Test, and while almost every other eye in the country was fixed on the coming Thursday at the Oval, I was sat in the Pavilion stand at New Road. I was being paid to write a report, but other than that there seemed very little reason to be there (the famous bangers'n'mash in a Yorkshire pudding specialty of the cafe aside). It was a List A fixture between two teams - Worcestershire and Gloucestershire - who were both about to be relegated into the second division of the terribly-important tote sport league. Worcestershire had signed Shoaib as an overseas player that season, a decision that the club quickly came to regret. Rightly so, perhaps, given that Shoaib repeatedly failed to turn up for training, often withdrew from matches citing phony injuries and generally gave the impression that playing county cricket was an activity he ranked in importance somewhere between trimming his nails and matching his spare socks into pairs. So they dropped him. Until, an hour before this particular game was about to start, Gareth Batty bent his finger trying to field a ball. Like a lot of hopeless English spinners, Batty seems a haplessly comic figure. His place in the annals of cricket rests largely upon the outstanding feats his own misfortune enabled others to achieve - as anyone who remembers Brian Lara's fine-leg-four to move his score to 384 at Antigua will testify. That day, Batty's pratfall in training led to one of the most memorable afternoons of cricket I've seen. A man short, the club gave Shoaib a call. If he was already pissed off at being dropped, the idea of coming in to work at late notice on the weekend as a replacement for Gareth Batty, of all people, really got to him. Gloucester won the toss and batted first, so Shoaib's funk was still steaming fresh when he got a chance to do something about it. I don't think anyone at that ground was prepared for what he was about unleash. The crowd were lazily assembling as he paced out his run in long, loping strides. He stood, turned, and flicked his fringe out of his eye with his fingers. Then, jutting his chin and staring at the batsman, he rolled up his sleeves past his elbows. "That," intoned a hoary old man sat nearby, "means he's in business today". His first four overs returned five wickets for seven runs. It was the finest spell of fast bowling I've seen in county cricket, perhaps the finest full stop. It was spectacularly ferocious, and glorious to watch. The Gloucestershire batsmen - good county players such as Craig Spearman and Alex Gidman among them - were simply unable to play him. He was in a different class. Only his opposite overseas number, Ramnaresh Sarwan, could get bat on ball. Sitting up in my seat, squinting into the sunshine, I'd see him run in, I'd see his arms describe an arc and the ball leave his hand. And by the time the batsman began his stroke the bails would already be hitting the turf somewhere beyond second slip. He took three wickets in four balls, and went on to record the best limited overs figures (7.2-2-16-6) in Worcestershire's history. It didn't stop the club moaning about what a poor signing he'd been, but it did give their supporters something to remember him by. And that's always been Shoaib, a law unto himself but a bowler with as much dash, panache and power as any who played the game. I can understand why Pakistani fans might be happy he has gone: Geoff Lawson wants to make the side more calmly consistent, and Shoaib's whims and tantrums are hardly conducive to that. But as a neutral, more than anything else, I hope that we haven't seen the last of him. Losing Shane Bond to the Indian Cricket League was bad enough. That Shoaib's refusal to please his Board's administrators has cost us the joy of watching him play is worse still. If only he could make his case for his inclusion with a ball in his hand rather than a microphone.

Cricket to Trial Official Challenges to Decisions
A new system will be trialled on India's tour of Sri Lanka whereby players can challenge decisions made by an umpire. In a system akin to one used on the 2006 ATP and WTA tennis tours, each team will be allocated three challenges per innings. If a review request proves successful, with the umpire amending his original decision, then it will not use up one of the allocated challenges. If, however, the umpire upholds the decision of 'out' but specifies a mode of dismissal different from the one that the on-field umpire originally signaled, the request will be considered unsuccessful. The system will be trialled during the three-Test, five one-day international series which starts on July 23 in Colombo, the Board of Control for Cricket in India announced. "A player may request the review of any decision taken by the on-field umpires concerning every dismissal with the exception of a 'timed out' decision," read a BCCI statement. Upon a request, the decision would be referred to the third umpire, who would then be allowed to use slow-motion replays, stump microphones and Hawk-Eye technology to analyse the decision. However, Hawk-Eye would be used only for ball tracking purposes and not, as it is on television coverage, to estimate the future trajectory of the ball. The statement continued: "For reviews concerning potential dismissals, the player should then indicate 'out' by raising his finger above his head or indicate 'not out' by crossing his hands in a horizontal position side-to-side in front and above his waist three times. Where the decision is a reversal of the on-field umpire's previous call, he should make the 'revoke last signal' indication immediately prior to the above."

The Joy of Six: Cricket Innovations

From games of Twisti-Twosti to scraps of tarpaulin, here are six moments of invention that really changed the sport
1) The googly These days it is considered a vital part of any leg-spinner's armory - wrongly, perhaps: Shane Warne's wrong 'un was about as subtle as his chat-up technique. But at the start of the 20th century, the googly was viewed as a sneaky piece of sophistry. The Middlesex leggie Bernard Bosanquet invented the delivery during games of Twisti-Twosti, in which players bounced a tennis ball across a table in the hope that that poor sap at the other end wouldn't be able to catch it. His invention quickly spread, with South Africa unleashing three of the critturs during a 4-1 hammering of England in 1905-06. Off-spinners fought back in the 1990s when Pakistan's Saqlain Mushtaq developed his "doosra" (Urdu and Hindi for "second" or "other"), although some believe the delivery - a leg-break bowled with an off-break action - cannot be bowled with a legal action. The googly though remains above the law and much-loved, with Mushtaq Ahmed's dismissal of Graeme Hick in the 1992 World Cup final its most recent high-profile example. 2) Bodyline Well, we could hardly leave it out, could we? What began as a plot by England's Aussie-hating captain, Douglas Jardine, to win back the Ashes by nullifying Don Bradman (Jardine insisted England's players refer to him at all times as "the little bastard") ended up as a diplomatic incident with more legacies than you can shake a rib-cage-defending bat at. First, the MCC passed a law banning the presence of more than two men behind square on the leg-side; no more leg-stump bouncer-fests, in other words. Second, Harold Larwood - one of the great unfulfilled fast-bowling talents of all time - was scapegoated out of the game by the two-faced English authorities. Third, the Poms still have to endure what is usually referred to as "the longest whinge in sporting history" mainly because England won 4-1 and Bradman averaged a mere 56. He never did as badly again, but, hey, it was fun while it lasted. 3) Hawk-Eye Bear with us here. This clever little gizmo may not be to everyone's liking - "I'm sorry, but that was missing leg" is an oft-heard press-box grumble as Hawk-Eye shows the ball ploughing into middle stump - but it has changed the thinking fan's perception of the leg-before decision. In effect, Hawk-Eye has made the stumps bigger. After all, a ball that clips the leg stick is just as out as one that dislodges middle. But more to the point it has emboldened umpires to give batsmen out on the front foot, with the chief beneficiary being wicket-to-wicket left-arm spinners such as Monty Panesar, whose stock ball to the right-hander pitches on middle and straightens. To date 27% of his Test victims have been lbw, compared with 18% for Daniel Vettori, who took many of his wickets in those innocent pre-Hawk-Eye days. Hawk-Eye may yet be the death of umpires too if the authorities are persuaded that a machine whose inventors claim accuracy to within 5mm can remove the dreaded shadow of human error. 4) Pinch-hitting In the 1979 World Cup final, Geoff Boycott (57 off 105 balls) and Mike Brearley (64 off 130) spent so long adding 129 for England's first wicket as they chased West Indies' 286 for nine in 60 overs that they placed an intolerable burden on their team-mates. England were soon skittled for 194. And yet, in the days before Mark Greatbatch decided to ignore the unwritten cricket law that demands dourness from all New Zealanders and used the opening overs to hit over the top in the 1992 World Cup, this thou-shalt-not-pass attitude was prevalent. And what Greatbatch could do (313 off 356 balls in that tournament), Sanath Jayasuriya could do even better. It's rarely remembered that he went into the 1996 World Cup with a dreadful one-day record - an average of 19 from 99 matches - but that was all forgotten as he made 79 off 93 balls against India, 44 off 43 against Kenya and then 82 off 44 to see off a pitiful England in the quarter-finals. Jayasuriya never looked back (the next 12 years brought him 24 of his 25 ODI centuries) and nor did one-day cricket. 5) The scoop Sure, we all know that the scoop and its many illegitimate offspring are causing bowlers fresh nightmares by the game, but here's an airy waft outside off for you: without the scoop, we might not now be agonizing over Lalit Modi and Sir Allen Stanford. Here's why. When Pakistan needed six off four balls to win the World Twenty20 final at Johannesburg in September, Misbah-ul-Haq tried to scoop Joginder Sharma over short fine leg. He stuffed it up, Sreesanth took the catch and India arrived home to a hero's welcome in the streets of Mumbai. Until that moment, cricket's financial superpower had played Twenty20 under sufferance, fearful that the erosion of the 50-over game would cost them crucial advertising air-time. Now, they sensed a golden goose, and when Kapil Dev set up his Indian Cricket League, Modi retaliated with the Indian Premier League. The rest, as they say, is recent history. Now if Misbah had played a cover-drive instead ... 6) Covers A few sheets and bits of tarpaulin don't sound like much of an innovation but they just might have been responsible for the beginning of the end for the orthodox finger-spinner, a trend which in turn helped inspire innovations such as the doosra. Anyway, we digress. The advent of covered pitches - phased in at various stages between the end of the 1960s and the early 1980s - meant that average offies could no longer land it on a length and allow the sticky dog (a wet pitch drying out quickly under the baking sun) to do the rest. As the elements were increasingly denied their Machiavellian access, pitches around the world became more uniform and batsmen - led by Hansie Cronje and Steve Waugh - discovered that the slog-sweep was suddenly a percentage shot rather than a risk. Heavier bats and smaller boundaries haven't helped the traditional off-spinner's cause, but it all goes back to those pesky covers.

The Marylebone Cricket Club? More Like the Marylebone Commercial Corporation

The MCC's Twenty20 proposals shamelessly advance the wealthier city elite ahead of the smaller first-class counties and risk a schism in the game
If you ever wonder about the prime role of the MCC, its own website is eager to remind you. "Today, MCC's role remains as relevant as ever," it says. "From guarding the game's Laws to safeguarding its Spirit, and from promoting cricket to young people to looking after Lord's, MCC is committed to the good of the game." Noble sentiments – sentiments that are also promoted, the website reminds us, "in the annual Cowdrey Lecture - part of the Club's worldwide campaign to ensure that a great game is always played in a truly sportsmanlike way." Archbishop Desmond Tutu gave the lecture in 2008 and his condemnation, albeit in passing, of Robert Mugabe "terrorizing his own people" helped to set the agenda for their cricket team's demotion. But that was then. This is now. The MCC will be forever mistrusted as putting commercial ambitions ahead of communal aspirations after its links with a proposed Twenty20 format for the English Premier League that would create a schism in English county cricket, one which shamelessly advances the wealthier city elite ahead of the smaller first-class counties. The MCC, under its Australian chief executive, Keith Bradshaw, is increasingly the Marylebone Cricket Club no longer but the Marylebone Commercial Corporation. With every year its paternalist behavior gains a harder, commercial edge. Much of this might well be necessary, advantageous even. But the day that the MCC gets the balance wrong is the day that it loses its proud claim to be the custodian of the game. It becomes just another company jostling for commercial gain. It is perilously close to that today. Bradshaw was just one of two men who put his name to the breakaway EPL proposals, along with David Stewart, the chairman of Surrey. The leaked proposal will be formally considered at an ECB board meeting on Tuesday and has no chance of adoption. But it is naïve at best, disingenuous at worst, for Bradshaw to present his advocacy of a nine-team EPL as just an independent opinion, and one not necessarily shared by the MCC. Bradshaw owes his position as an independent director of the England and Wales Cricket Board to the fact that he nominated by the MCC, not because of his impressive CV as a partner in a firm of leading accountants. Any proposal he makes is automatically assumed to be MCC policy, yet he has not even discussed the matter within the MCC committee. If he has an independent view, he might be well qualified to make it, but it is questionable whether he is entitled. His job is to dutifully explain the MCC's position. He has come close to misusing his role in a way that risks undermining the image of the MCC forever. Furthermore, Bradshaw's favored world of franchises and shareholder profits – however appealing some may find it - is directly opposed to the view held by Giles Clarke, the elected chairman of the England and Wales Cricket Board, who believes that all 18 counties must have a role in the future. It will be widely interpreted – however unfairly – as an MCC challenge to the ECB's authority to run the game. It might not be intended as a rebellion – the ECB did invite suggestions after all - but it sure as hell sets the seeds for it. If bodies don't constantly develop they atrophy, but the MCC's ambition to regain its influence in the world game has a hint of overreaching ambition. It is possible for the MCC to present itself as an independent moral voice, it is equally possible for it to become a successful commercial entity. It is virtually impossible for it to do both. The Bill Gates Foundation is an impressive body, yet it has yet to persuade many of the honorable intentions of Microsoft. Interestingly, Archbishop Tutu's Cowdrey Lecture finished with these words: "Cricket reminds us that we are made for togetherness. We are made as those who are going to have to turn this world and make it something that is more compassionate, more caring, more loving, more gentle, and you here are part of God's team plan, collaborators to help God bring about a realization of God's dream. Could we have any higher aspiration, not only for cricket but for the whole of life as we humans experience it in community, that we live our lives in the Spirit of Cricket?" It hardly fits with Bradshaw's vision of a nine-club franchise. Presumably, he had nodded off at the time.

Cricketers Must Show Home is Not Where the Fainthearts Are

Richard Williams: England's decision to leave India suggests they lack authoritative leadership and have succumbed to the celebrity bubble
The Ryder Cup is played in even-numbered years these days because, back in September 2001, the event was postponed for 12 months after the United States team took an apparently unanimous decision not to get on the plane that would take them to England. The 9/11 attacks, coming just over a fortnight before the tournament was scheduled to start at The Belfry, convinced them that transatlantic flying was, for the time being, a bad idea. I don't suppose any one of them has ever regretted the choice, although some of us felt it was taken in haste and without real regard to its effect on the lives and livelihoods of others less able to countenance such a gesture - people running concession stands, bed and breakfast establishments and car parks. Over the next few days the England cricket team will be facing a similar decision. Should they go back to India to play a two-Test series, now rearranged for Chennai and Mohali, or are they better off staying at home with their nearest and dearest? Individuals are being left to make their own choices, without pressure being applied by the officers of the England and Wales Cricket Board, and it seems likely that some will stay and some will go. The swiftness of their return home after last week's attacks in Mumbai suggests that the party is lacking the sort of authoritative leadership capable of advancing preferable options. Staying put would have been the best course of all, standing firm and making some sort of common cause with the Indian people, who would have taken comfort from their presence. A temporary retreat to Dubai, followed by a swift return to action, would have been the second best choice. Instead, no doubt swayed by the voices of players who had been listening to their families' entreaties, they were home before the siege of the Taj Mahal hotel had reached its conclusion. Now it seems to be taken for granted that Andrew Flintoff and Steve Harmison will be the first to announce a decision to opt out of the Tests. They are fortunate that the game has given them sufficient material wealth to cushion them against the potential consequences of their absence. They, and any other players considering a similar course of action, would do better to demonstrate their solidarity with the rest of the squad. The unlikelihood of that course of action says something about the way the England cricket team is run. A hotel in which they recently stayed had become a war zone and of course they were affected by the terrible sights. But recent newspaper columns by Harmison and Kevin Pietersen have the sound of men not in control of their own emotions. "I'm still shaking from the terrorist atrocities in Mumbai," the captain wrote. "Every time I see the TV footage I realise how close we were to death." Well, as close as the 800 miles between Mumbai and Bhubaneswar. Or, if you like, as close as the two weeks since the squad checked out of the Taj Mahal, leaving their Test match kit to await their scheduled return. I don't think they're faint hearts. I just think they're indifferently led and prey to the delusions that tend to affect the behavior of English sportsmen when they enter the celebrity bubble. If the Foreign Office says that the situation is too dangerous, then of course they should stay at home. But I can't help remembering the absurd precautions taken to guard England's footballers during the last World Cup - the helicopter escorts, the squads of mounted police and the street closures that caused inconvenience to bemused German motorists - and I wonder about the quality of the advice the cricketers are receiving from those whose careers are, to some extent, dependent on the existence of a threat. Bullies off hockey, for London's sake It is 20 years since Great Britain won the gold medal in the men's hockey tournament at the Seoul Olympics, when eight goals in the tournament made Sean Kerly a national hero. The game seemed certain to grow in popularity. In the last few days, however, we have been told that the sport is likely to be among the victims of the government's failure to come up with the £600m budget for elite sport that Gordon Brown pledged to deliver back when the London 2012 euphoria was still in full bloom. Now UK Sport faces the unpleasant job of telling certain sports that their recent performances have not justified a claim for funding. Hockey is among them, despite the men finishing fifth and the women sixth in Beijing, positions from which a medal push ought to be possible. Sport is not alone in facing up to cuts. But the money, although aimed at potential medal winners, was supposed to encourage participation at all levels. And hockey - still a grass-roots sport despite the artificial pitches that have made it a much improved sport for players and spectators alike - seems the wrong target. Milan the club to keep Beckham going If David Beckham has been watching Ronaldinho lately, he will be convinced that he is going to the right place this winter. When Barcelona offloaded the 28-year-old Brazilian to Milan in the summer, the deal was interpreted as yet another example of Silvio Berlusconi's weakness for ageing stars. But that marvellous free-kick which began the Milan revival at Fratton Park was typical of Ronaldinho's performances so far this season. On January 7 Beckham is due to report for duty at the MilanLab, the facility that has kept Paolo Maldini going past his 40th birthday. If anyone can help the former England captain secure the two international appearances he needs to surpass Bobby Moore's 108 caps, it is Berlusconi's specialists in the black art of propping up geriatric footballers. A natural circuit except to Ecclestone A spectacular new Argentinian race track opened last week. Winding around a volcanic lake in the mountains near San Luis, it looks like something from the dreams of formula one fans who remember an age when heroes raced on circuits that followed the natural contours of the land. Nowadays the new tracks are designed on the computer of Bernie Ecclestone's favored circuit architect, and are carefully "packaged" in order to make the most economical use of the available real estate. The other reason why the Circuito Internacional Potreros de los Funes will never host a pukka grand prix is that the government of Argentina is neither rich nor irresponsible enough to cough up the sort of fees regularly transferred into Ecclestone's pockets from the public purse of countries whose rulers account to no one. In remembrance of Rob Partridge My friend Rob Partridge died the other day after enduring a long and painful illness with courage, grace and mordant humor. His exploits in the music business - with the likes of Bob Marley (for whom he organized football matches in Battersea Park and elsewhere), Tom Waits, U2, Marianne Faithfull and the Streets - are described in today's obituaries pages but I shall miss his running commentary on the fortunes of Queens Park Rangers, a club whose quixotic adventures were suited to his wry, resilient temperament.

Recession Gives Us World's First Million-pound Cricketers, Pietersen and Flintoff

David Hopps: In the glorified cattle market of the Indian Premier League, England's cash cowsshould not worry about the price on their heads but be happy to be herded into a pen behind their owners, gently mooing
Thanks to the parlous state of the pound, we all woke up today to discover that Andrew Flintoff and Kevin Pietersen had become the world's first £1m cricketers. Because sterling is bumping along at about 1.46 to the dollar, they squeeze in at about £1.06m. It's awfully kind of Gordon Brown to preside over such a run on the pound so that we all have something nice to celebrate. If Flintoff and Pietersen had been sold for $1.55m this time last year, we might all have shrugged and said: 'Yes, well, it might well be a record, but it's only worth £800,000. It's hardly worth getting out of bed for. On balance, it must be far more fun to be a geography teacher." One thing is certain, envy will be rife down the pub tonight. People who can't name more than half the England side will be staring into their pints and moaning: "No cricketer is worth that sort of money." At least it will change the conversation from how all the immigrants should go home. Or perhaps, in KP's case, the conversations will intertwine and his bounty will take on vaguely racist undertones: "He should get back to South Africa and let one of our lads not be worth the money instead." All this grumbling is uncalled for. If an Indian franchise wants to splash the cash then good luck to all of them. The IPL, as its administrators like to boast, is a classic example of the free market. You are paid what someone thinks you are worth. It is just that, in the free market, no one has a clue any more what anything – or anyone – is really worth. Barclays were valued at about £15bn at the start of November but only about £4bn last week as shareholders sold in droves. Perhaps they should bundle up some unwanted players like Luke Wright, Samit Patel and any number of Australian state players and flog them off to Deccan Chargers as triple-A securities. In fact, it would be far more fun if cricketers were turned into public companies, with their value ruled entirely by their share price. Then if Pietersen slogged one up in the air on 97, or Flintoff got out early, you could not only curse at the TV screen but get on the phone and ring your broker. There has been talk of how England's dressing room will be riven by conflict because of the IPL. This comes only a month after talk about how England's dressing room was riven by conflict because of the falling-out between Kevin Pietersen and Peter Moores. Someone should tell Obama to get Hillary Clinton on the case. In both cases, this is all hugely over-blown. Sponsorship deals have long exaggerated the disparity between the richest and poorest members of the England squad. Cricketers have embraced the free market more enthusiastically than many imagine. The IPL raises rewards to new levels, but it will not change the character of the game. What is unnerving is not the money, it is the lack of personal freedom. Even footballers maintain a shallow pretense that Manchester City, Arsenal or whoever signs them is the only club they have ever wished to play for. Occasionally, they still refuse to move. Yet the IPL auction is a glorified cattle market. The players go where they are told. They should all be forced to turn up, stand in a pen and then trail out after their Indian owner, gently mooing. Pietersen and Flintoff have come out of it pretty well. Pietersen is heading for Bangalore, which is probably second to Mumbai as England's favorite Indian city. Chennai will give Flintoff every chance to work up a sweat, especially in its perpetual traffic jams. But personally I've never really taken to Delhi and if I was Paul Collingwood or Owais Shah I would be screaming: "Look, I don't really want to go there, it's all been a dreadful mistake." And as for Deccan Chargers, that would have been worse than being told you have been sold to Middlesbrough. Some happy deals have been made. When Bangalore paid $160,000 for Jesse Ryder, the infamously roistering Kiwi could be secure in the knowledge that his bar bill had been paid for another year. Bangalore, incidentally, are owned by Vijay Mallya, chairman of the United Breweries Group, which produces Kingfisher lager. We all know what Jesse will be supping. But the most heartwarming story was Kolkata Knight Riders' only bid of the night, an astonishing late purchase of Mashrafe Mortaza for $600,000, 12 times above his reserve price. Kolkata have a vague theory that it will open up business opportunities in Bangladesh. Maybe the credit crunch has yet to hit Chittagong. It looks like madness. But for Mortaza, who happens to be a thoroughly nice lad, and the whole of Bangladeshi cricket, it is a cause for unbounded joy. There is nothing wrong with that.

Sidebottom Excels As Dark Skies Reduce Cricket to a Sideshow

Ryan Sidebottom took four wickets for five runs in 10 overs, but bad light hampered England's progress
Not much happened at Lord's. Umpire Steve Bucknor held his light meter to the skies every six minutes. Sometimes the game was allowed to continue; at others the batsmen, having been offered the light, took refuge in the pavilion. It didn't rain. But imperceptibly the solid bank of cloud changed in color from grey to dark grey and back again. To those unfamiliar with the vagaries of our summer game to be at Lord's on Friday was an exercise in utter futility. To those more accustomed ... well, staring up at the skies in search of a glimmer of light was a pretty pointless pursuit for them as well. So a forgettable day for around 20,000 spectators and 21 of the 22 players involved. But I think Ryan Sidebottom will remember it with some affection. Thursday had been barren for Sidebottom. He had bowled adequately, but no more (one of his virtues is that he never bowls really badly). On Friday morning he propelled six frugal overs with the old ball and collected the wicket of Jacob Oram. Another testing delivery found the edge and Andrew Strauss confirmed that his presence in the team at least enhances the quality of the slip cordon. That was England's solitary success with the old ball but at least they made the Kiwis graft for their runs. As ever Daniel Vettori produced an innings of pugnacity rather than purity, snatching runs wherever he could. As soon as the new ball was available - a dozen minutes before lunch - Michael Vaughan summoned up Sidebottom and the game changed. Sidebottom's first ball swung devilishly into the pads of Kyle Mills and the appeal was rejected; his second also changed direction in mid-air and this time proceeded through the Mills gate on to the stumps. Somehow Tim Southee, who looked as if he had never experienced such prodigious movement before, survived until lunch. But after the break he soon missed a swinging half-volley and his stumps were splattered. After a few successful swishes against James Anderson, Vettori now found himself at Sidebottom's end. Anticipating sharp away swing - with some justification - he opted to shoulder arms. But this time the ball declined to change direction. Instead it continued on its merry way striking the middle stump, which meant for a bashful exit for the New Zealand captain, even though he had played another invaluable innings down the order. Soon it dawned that Sidebottom on this drab Friday had taken four wickets for five runs in 10.1 overs - memorable stuff. The key question now was whether the Kiwi's new ball would swing as potently. Answer: no. So England's latest opening pair batted like friends reunited. In fact they have not prospered together in the past, but here they went about their business pragmatically and positively. In a Southee over Alastair Cook cracked three boundaries. Strauss unveiled a crisp pull shot against Chris Martin. They scampered between the wickets. Otherwise they batted like good old English pros: no frills, no flourishes. They seemed in such control that when Umpire Bucknor decided that the light had deteriorated once more, it was the Kiwis who looked relieved to be able to return to the pavilion. Old pros rarely turn down the offer of the light.