Opinion
Cricket’s soul is on the line, and no amount of money will bring it back
Greg Chappell
Former Australian Test captainIt was William Bruce Cameron who said, “Not everything that can be counted counts, and not everything that counts can be counted.”
The tectonic plates beneath Australian cricket are shifting. Behind the smiles and statements of opportunity, there’s an uneasy murmur sweeping through dressing rooms, state associations, grassroots clubs and the faithful fan base. Cricket Australia (CA), in partnership with global consultancy Boston Consulting Group (BCG), is contemplating the partial sale of Big Bash League franchises to private investors – a move loaded with both financial promise and cultural peril.
Sam Konstas, in BBL mode, poses for a selfie with a fan.Credit: Getty Images
Is Australian cricket at the dawn of a bold new era, or standing on the edge of a slippery slope from which there is no return?
CA’s motives are clear. Rising player salaries, fragmented broadcast audiences, and increasing competition from rival T20 leagues like the IPL, SA20 and ILT20 have left BBL struggling for oxygen. Fan engagement has stalled post-COVID. Talent retention is difficult when rival leagues offer more money. CA believes fresh capital from private investors could boost the BBL and help Australian cricket remain competitive in the increasingly saturated global T20 market.
But at what cost?
The model CA is considering mirrors that of the ECB’s sale of stakes in The Hundred. Foreign conglomerates such as Reliance, GMR and RPSG now have part-ownership of UK-based teams. While this injected more than $1 billion into English cricket, it came at a cost: declining authority for the ECB, a marginalised County Championship and growing signs of a “club over country” allegiance among players.
This is the “footballisation” of cricket – a world in which players are owned commodities, loyalty lies with brand-backed franchises, and national boards slowly become nominal caretakers of a once-proud tradition. If Australia goes down this path, will the baggy green cap become just another line in a sponsorship portfolio?
Who will have control of the players? This is the $64 million question that cuts to the heart of the issue. Private ownership serves private interests. And with IPL owners reportedly keen to acquire BBL franchises, the precedent is already clear: players will float across borders on club contracts, like itinerant footballers in Europe. The windows for Test cricket worldwide will come under more pressure. Sheffield Shield will be devalued further, and reduced to a talent pool feeding foreign leagues for free. And young Australian players will inevitably prioritise their franchise careers over a future in the baggy green.
Today’s rising star could soon be wearing a Sydney Sixers jersey one week and an MI Cape Town shirt the next – contractually obliged to attend pre-season in Dubai, not a Shield match in Perth.
Who controls player pathways in that model? Not CA. Not state associations. Not, crucially, the fans.
Cricket was built from the bottom up. Clubs, schools, regional competitions – this is where the love of the game is born. Yet, under the current proposal, there’s no binding mechanism to ensure grassroots cricket will benefit from franchise sales.
Who owns cricket?
Isn’t it the countless volunteers who have given their blood, sweat and tears to the game for the best part of 150 years? Without them, the club infrastructure will just dissolve. When that happens, where will the players come from?
If the lion’s share of profits flows to elite franchises and offshore investors, community cricket will wither. Junior coaches, volunteers and regional academies already battle limited funding. Will they see a cent from a $50 million franchise deal? Unlikely – unless CA enshrines protections now.
If the game’s foundation is neglected, no amount of overseas stardust in the BBL can fix it.
CA must remember the fans in all of this: the sport doesn’t belong to the boardroom. It belongs to the people who turn up on scorching summer days, who follow the Sheffield Shield scorecards on their phones, who paint their faces for BBL matches and tear up when a debutant receives their baggy green.
CA should avoid making this decision behind closed doors, with only high-level consultants and financiers at the table.
Transparency isn’t a luxury here—it’s a necessity. If fans aren’t brought along for the ride, CA risks losing not just their support, but their trust.
Selling equity in BBL franchises isn’t like adjusting match fixtures or trialling a new format. Once sold, the genie cannot go back in the bottle. Private investors will have a legal say. Commercial priorities will weigh heavily. Strategic decisions – TV rights, match windows, player management – will no longer be made solely in Australia’s best interests. CA could become a junior partner in its own competition.
And history offers a sobering warning. The West Indies, once a global powerhouse, saw their Test strength eroded as players followed the money to freelance T20 gigs. Without revenue or control, their national team declined. Are we willing to flirt with the same fate?
The situation is undeniably complex. Do nothing, and risk the BBL slipping into irrelevance. Sell now, and risk cricket’s soul being mortgaged for a quick payday. But complexity is not an excuse for recklessness. It is precisely in these moments that leadership is tested.
CA must proceed – but with caution, clarity and accountability.
Disclose the nature of its agreement with BCG and any potential conflicts of interest.
Guarantee that revenue from franchise sales will be ring-fenced for grassroots and red-ball development.
Enshrine protections for the domestic calendar and Test cricket availability.
Create a stakeholder oversight committee that includes current and past players, grassroots representatives and independent advisers.
Engage the public openly. Publish discussion papers. Hold public consultations. Make fans feel like partners – not passengers. Present a proposal, not a fait accompli!
Cricket Australia is the custodian of a cultural treasure. It doesn’t just manage a sport; it stewards a national identity, a summer rhythm, a shared love that stretches from the outback to the suburbs, from grandstands to backyard pitches.
If private ownership becomes the dominant model, the role of the board changes forever. No longer the independent guardian of Australian cricket, but a stakeholder among many – some foreign, some corporate, some indifferent to the game’s traditions.
That transformation will be irreversible.
The question is, who stands to gain from this? There is enough money in the game in Australia. To me, it is only the corporates and a few players who will gain. But, it will come at the expense of the heart and soul of Australian cricket.
Cricket was never built by private equity. It was built by communities, clubs, families and dreams. Selling off pieces of the family silver may help in the short term, but it could very well jeopardise everything that makes Australian cricket imposing. CA are custodians of something exalted. It should not be a mere business decision because once the soul of the game is gone, no amount of money will bring it back.
I also struggle to appreciate or even comprehend what private investors can teach seasoned administrators like CA CEO Todd Greenberg about running the sport.
Sir Donald Bradman once told me, “Greg, when sport becomes a business, it loses something.” In a quarter of a century since, the game is awash with money from “stakeholders” who are primarily interested in turning a profit and individuals who are attracted by the glitz and glamour.
Players must be mindful of their legacy to Test cricket and its primacy. T20 is the enemy of Test cricket, so they can’t say that they support it whilst their actions undermine their words. We need many more like Mitch Starc – a principled man who scoffed at obscene riches, opting out of IPL auctions for five years so he could prioritise red-ball cricket.
Mitchell Starc has consistently prioritised Tests.Credit: AP
Cricket boards find themselves in a conundrum. The Barbarians are at their gate, seducing them with their money, for a format that masquerades as a saviour of the real McCoy.
We cannot and should not widen the window for T20 tournaments around the world. We cannot and should not cede sovereignty that has been zealously guarded for nearly 150 years, for if Test cricket falls, the empire it built will inevitably crumble. In chasing what can be counted, let us not discard what has always counted most—our game’s indomitable spirit, its glorious story, and the people who have carried it this far.
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