Paul Lewis: Greed defiles game's image

Cricket only has itself to blame for the Pakistan scandal. Greed is a pervasive thing.

If those two statements seem unrelated, they aren't. One of the saddest sights in recent times has been the insidious advance of money into the great sport of cricket. Even if it long ago ceased to be the gentleman's game, cricketers still generally believe in the sanctity of the game.

Money has changed things. Not just from the players' point of view; but from the fans'.

Most players are not match fixers or on the take, it has to be said, in spite of the shock and odium surrounding the Pakistani spot-fixing scandal. But Twenty20 cricket, the Indian Premier League in particular, Allen Stanford and a host of actions taken by cricket boards around the globe have affected the game as they try to protect themselves - and benefit from - the rivers of cash sloshing around in the game.

What we now have is a game where the top players are vastly rewarded but where the overall perception of the sport seems to be trending down. In other words, players are being rewarded more for appealing less. And I don't mean for LBWs.

The Pakistan scandal - allegations, as nothing has been proved in spite of the graphic evidence produced by the News Of The World - has come in the middle of all that. While protestations that world cricket could wither and die have to be taken with a mountain of salt, there is little doubt the game has been wounded.

Twenty20 cricket, regarded by many as a saviour, introducing an era of plenty, has been the catalyst. The money on offer from the IPL has been so vast that it has changed cricket - probably forever.

There is nothing wrong with T20 per se. In fact, I enjoyed New Zealand's domestic competition last summer. It's been a while since so many families and people who had stayed away from the game returned, enjoying its quick-fire nature, entertainment value and colour.

It's when money enters the arena the mood turns ugly. Surveys have been held around the cricketing world asking players and others what form of the game they consider most significant. In most cases, T20 came up trumps. Why? It's not because it is the purest, most enjoyable form of the game. It's because of the dosh.

Yet the IPL, supposedly the top of the T20 regime is a meaningless jumble of coloured pyjamas, franchises, Bollywood movie stars, white noise and marketing mumbo-jumbo.

Here is a short list of things I would rather do than watch the IPL, even if New Zealand players were involved:

* watch traffic lights change

* commit the user's manual of my DVD player to memory

* have diarrhoea

* listen to anything Paris Hilton says. Which is almost the same as the above, really.

The problem is, money talks.

In order to prevent the "freelance" syndrome - players like England all-rounder Andrew "Freddie" Flintoff deciding they can earn more by being a free agent rather than tied to their national cricket board (and thus the national team) - cricket authorities have had to take steps.

Most involve money: better deals for playing in their national T20 competition and for being in the national team.

It was that stimulus which foisted the dubious billionaire Allen Stanford on cricket.

Remember him? England cricket clasped him around the knees in pathetic gratitude when Stanford flew in as a self-styled saviour. In a moment of pure Mammon, Stanford was helicoptered into Lord's with a transparent plastic case containing US$20 million in banknotes.

He was surrounded by fawning icons of the game - for all the world looking like they were paying obeisance to the great god Money and his archangel Allen.

It all ended in tears, of course. Cricket distanced itself from the billionaire when he got a bit frisky with players' wives and when the nasty smell of fraud began to linger. Stanford is currently in prison awaiting a court appearance in January re charges of fraud involving about US$8 billion.

But, before that, there was the Stanford-inspired US$1 million challenge. Played between England and the West Indies, the winner got US$1 million, the losers sod-all. There was no tradition at stake. No honour. No trophy. No kudos and no real competition other than for the lolly.

It was possibly international cricket's lowest ebb and, although the game has come back from that distasteful point, there is still a money vs value equation going on.

Here in New Zealand, it was recently announced to a puzzled nation that New Zealand players can take advantage of a fine new deal.

If revenue for New Zealand Cricket exceeds expectations, the players get a bigger slice of that enhanced pie.

If it falls short, however, they get their wallets lightened. It introduces a retirement fund and money for grassroots development - and will help to keep players tied to this country.

But for all the benefits that have come the way of top players, is New Zealand cricket any better? By any objective assessment, the Black Caps have managed only an ordinary playing record in recent times.

The most common perception, among fans and those on the cusp, appears to be one of interest, usually closely followed by disappointment.

How much of that - more money for players followed by performances which perhaps do not match the financial rewards - will fans stand?

World cricket has to gain control over money, in all its rogue forms, and the game as a grower of greed.

Some apologists have wittered on about how little the Pakistanis get paid, hinting they need to supplement their income. Bunkum. Now Shahid Afridi - a ball tamperer and a pitch scuffer - sounds like a white knight as he arrived on the Pakistani tour of England.

Salim Malik, the first man in world cricket to be banned for life for corruption (Pakistan courts later lifted the life ban) says the allegations are false. Spare me.

Six Pakistani captains, down the years, have been implicated in corruption previously.

Yet the overwhelming feeling is, that if it hadn't been for the News Of The World, corruption in the game would still be a hidden sore. Cynicism rules. Cricket needs something more than money now: credibility.