Toothless ICC to bite back

If history is anything to go by, the teeth that the ICC claims to have sprouted will be the kind one takes out at night and plops into a bedside glass, writes MARTIN JOHNSON.

AS CORNHILL INSURANCE embarks upon its final summer as the official sponsor for home Test matches, it is odds against (if such a phrase is permissible under new International Cricket Council regulations) a lucrative bid coming in from Persil. Meantime, if the ICC is looking for someone to fund its new clean- up-the-game commission, the sponsor that would do most to fit its image is Steradent.

If history is anything to go by, the teeth that the ICC claims to have sprouted this week will be the kind you take out at night and plop into a bedside glass. For all the recent pronouncements from Lord's about the bent cricketer issue turning the international game's official ruling body into one big united family, this is a family that traditionally spends most of its time hurling the crockery at one another.

No one seriously doubts their genuine urge to root out a cancer every bit as virulent as drugs in athletics, but you'd be hard pressed to think of a single occasion in their history when they matched word with deed. On the other hand, maybe this issue is so big that the ICC's unofficial motto - ``we used to be indecisive, but now we're not so sure'' - is about to be ditched at last.

If there is a slightly better chance of the various officials working together in harmony on this one, it is because the cricketer who sparked it all off was Hansie Cronje, rather than yet another Pakistani or Indian. The ICC has invariably been split between black and white, for all the historical colonial reasons, and while Cronje's mea culpa might not actually cement the perennial squabblers, it might at least serve as some kind of sticking plaster.

Time will tell and, on all previous evidence, quite a lot of time at that. Their finest hour (or if you're setting your watch to ICC time, their finest hour and a half) was undoubtedly in 1992, when a one-day international between England and Pakistan at Lord's launched a fearless investigation into ball tampering. In terms of high-tech sleuthing, it was a cause of ICC standing for Inspector Clouseau Concludes.

The two English umpires ordered a replacement ball when Pakistan was bowling, under - as conveyed to the press box by the then Test and County Cricket Board media relations manager, who was a witness to it all in the ICC referee's office - the law governing unfair play. The England captain, Graham Gooch, was also informed by the umpires that the replacement had been ordered under that same law. ``Tampering'' was the word used to Gooch.

Next day the ICC secretary, John Stephenson, said: ``We are determined to stamp out this sort of thing'', and declared that a statement would shortly be forthcoming. The day after that, the statement was postponed while the ICC cited an inability to act until it had received a report from its own match referee, who for some reason had decided to employ a post box instead of walking about 30 yards to the office door. ``Once I have seen the report and spoken to Colin Cowdrey' the ICC chairman, who was away in India0'', said Stephenson, ``something will have to be said.''

Something was. Next day, a statement due at midday was put back to 5 p.m., and at 5 p.m. a statement was issued saying that the statement had now been postponed until the following day. Next day, faced with three possibilities - lie, tell the truth, or say nothing - the ICC opted to say nothing, and declared the matter officially closed.

The ball was reported to be under lock and key in a safe in the office of the TCCB chief executive, and for all we know is still there. Even the government releases sensitive information after a period of time, but you can call the Delhi book-maker of your choice and get better odds on Lord Lucan riding Shergar to victory in this year's Derby than on ever clapping eyes on the ball.

Two of the eight provisions of the ICC code of conduct, incidentally, are specifically designed to prevent anyone saying anything to the media, and it was to this backcloth that the ICC delegates held their meeting for a day and a half at Lord's this week, beginning with president Jagmohan Dalmiya, denying allegations of pocketing television money.

Inside the meeting there was a lot of talk about betting. Outside, there was even more talk about betting. ``Ten to one on they say nothing,'' was the general view.

The man from the World Service said: ``I reckon tomorrow will be D-Day.'' To which someone replied: ``What for? The 1992 ball tampering report?'' But the BBC man was right. A press conference scheduled for 1 p.m. was postponed for only an hour - thought to be an ICC record - and they said quite a lot.

Saying something as opposed to nothing is a major leap forward but the main announcement was a touch difficult to define as a fierce crackdown, in that international cricketers across the globe are to be asked to sign a piece of paper declaring: a) that they have not done anything naughty and b) that they have never been asked to do anything naughty. History is littered with important bits of paper bearing promises of good behaviour, among them an assurance to Neville Chamberlain declaring that Germany wanted only a little bit of Czechoslovakia.

Besides which, the ICC chief executive, David Richards, then said that he confidently, expected everyone to sign it - in which case why bother? - adding that cricketers in future would have to exercise caution even when doing nothing more sinister than popping into the betting tent to have 50p each way on the 2.30 at Wincanton. You could see his point.

The captain of the visitors is spotted in Ladbrokes on Monday afternoon, and on Tuesday morning he is stumped by several yards off the first ball of the day.

Banning cricketers from betting on matches is all very well in theory, but no one has to put on a bet personally. When Dennis Lillee and Rodney Marsh took the 500-1 on England at Headingley in 1981, the bet was actually placed by the Australians' coach driver.

A former cricketer who was by no means infrequent visitor to the turf accountant in his playing days is one of the Cowdrey dynasty, Graham, who now operates on the other side of the counter with the spread betting firm Sporting Index. And it is the emergence of this type of gambling which has mostly been connected to increased opportunity for bribery and corruption.

Cowdrey, though, is adamant that it is far easier to manipulate the traditional fixed-odds market than spreads, which, for example, might offer you 280-300 on the first-innings total in a Test match. For a ``seller'' on œ1 per run, a score of 150 all out will net him œ130, while 450 all out will cost him œ150.

``For those looking to point the finger at spread betting, I would point out that it's a comparatively small industry in this country,'' said Cowdrey, ``with only five companies, and we'd know straight away if there was any attempt to manipulate the market.'' It's a lot easier to operate a scam in fixed odds, where 500 people can go into different High Street bookies five minutes before the off in a horse race, and all bung a tenner on. Maybe the time has come for us to meet the ICC and ECB to explain that it is almost impossible for us not to know when there is something fishy going on.

``We do have a lot of fun bets, such as how long it will take for the camera to home in on Ronaldo's girlfriend, but some things are more open to manipulation than others and we have, for instance, dropped the one on the time of the first throw-in at football following a match when one bloke kicked off and his team-mate hoofed it straight into touch.''

``The only one in cricket I feel we may take a look at is the ``how many balls until the first wide?'' bet, although it will probably still be available for the first one-day international. We'll have our own people at the Olympics and Euro 2000, but we can't have them everywhere, and it's pretty obvious that we'll try to get our card marked - about the likely state of the pitch for example - from the likes of ex-players and journalists. But we've never had any contact with players directly involved in the game.

``We have professional sportsmen as clients, including cricketers, and the rule is that they can bet on something other than the event they are actually engaged in - i.e., a player taking part in a Test match can't have a wager on that, but he is allowed to have a punt on a Sunday League game on the same day.''

Or at least they were. And did Sporting Index ever do business with a former South African cricket captain? ``Mr. Cronje never applied for an account with us,'' chuckled Cowdrey. ``Thank God''.

- Copyright, Telegraph Group Ltd., London, 2000

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