The Shorter Wisden 2013 (20 page)

Hedging is not illegal, but it shows that corruption is not an exact science: there is more than one method and more than one protagonist. The assumption that it is largely bookmakers who fix
matches would appear to be wrong. Vinay worries that punters close to players or officials do the fixing, costing
him
money. Yet there seems little doubt that the all-powerful syndicates
have massive influence, as well as the funds and organisational ability, to fix elements of matches – or even the results themselves.

The bookies and the professional punter can be considered enemies, in the mould of the old-fashioned pork-pie-hat-wearing odds-maker and his traditional chancer customer. It is a war for inside
information: who knows more? The only consistent loser is the less clued-up customer, who is in effect betting blind. The syndicate operates a subtle fix. By sending out false odds via their
bookies, they tempt customers into taking them. Vinay gave the example of how, armed with prior knowledge that a well-known Test match in 2011 would
not
end in a draw – when a draw
looked at one stage the only possible result – the odds were set so that more people would bet on the stalemate. This is a ruse that hundreds of thousands fall prey to, and the money tots
up.

The professional punter can do likewise, but he is a simpler operator. His original way of making money from fixes, which would have been used in the days of Hansie Cronje – and before the
betting exchanges were commonplace – is less sophisticated. It requires much poking and prodding of contacts up and down the country, hoping minions will then place the bets correctly. It is
a system that primarily takes advantage of the sheer size of the industry: a few lakh in Mumbai (one lakh equals 100,000), a few more in Delhi, a few more somewhere else. Next week, mix it all up
again in an attempt not to draw attention to the scale of the enterprise – and hope you don’t get found out.

“The punter will have his friends placing the bets all over,” said Vinay. “There is a big connection. Some punters are connected like the bookmakers are connected. If a punter
has 50 friends, he can get 50 bets.” The aim of fragmenting his bets by placing many smaller ones instead of a couple of large ones is to prevent the bookmaker from suspecting inside
knowledge.

The subtle nature of the sting fuels the belief that a wide array of markets are available to bet on in India. But it is not because there is a betting market for fielding positions that a
syndicate or punter has cajoled a captain into moving a fielder from third man (there is no such market). It is because, without a third man in the first ten overs of a one-day international, more
runs are likely to be scored. This allows the syndicate to set false odds on a bracket, knowing that, if they offer runs in the first ten overs at, say, 70–75, most gamblers will bet under.
Similarly, a punter who has a close friendship with a batsman might have arranged for him to score fewer than 25. This will give him an edge when it comes to the
lambi
, bracket and match
odds. If it sounds like insider trading on the stock market, that is precisely what it amounts to.

Unfortunately for cricket and the ICC’s Anti-Corruption and Security Unit, it is almost impossible to prove. The fixes are so minute – at least in terms of the impact on the match
result – as to be virtually undetectable. How, for example, could the ACSU prove in court that a batsman has scored deliberately slowly for just one over in a Twenty20 match to sate a
syndicate or a punter playing the brackets?

But the ACSU do not help themselves by failing to grasp how the illegal market in India works. They were embarrassed when Ravi Sawani, their former boss, admitted in the Southwark trial he had
not heard of the term “bracket”. They should also be pilloried for failing to grasp the nuances of spot-fixing, wrongly believing there are manifold markets for bookmakers or gamblers
to exploit. Yet we should not simply criticise the governing body. Rarely are players, the collective, admonished. “It’s down to them to take ownership,” said an ACSU source.
“A few players have said: ‘There should be more ACSU people.’ No, we should have 20 guys on the field naming the two who are at it.”

There is hope – but only a little. If India’s bookmakers were legalised, they would have to operate exactly like Ladbrokes or William Hill. That would mean an end to the credit
system, where bookies accept customers on trust. Instead, they would need money in their account to wager. And to have an account, they would have to hand over their personal details. When accounts
are kept and verified, you have a paper trail. If you have a paper trail, you have no rogue punters setting up fixes with their friends in cricket teams. At a stroke, the potential for corruption
would be reduced by half.

Vinay is not convinced: “People say: ‘Legalise betting in India and fixing will stop.’ Yes. We are ready to pay tax. I’m tired of paying off the police. But it will not
stop fixing. Never.”

Ed Hawkins is the author of
Bookie Gambler Fixer Spy: a journey to the corrupt heart of cricket’s underworld.
It is
Wisden’s
Book of the Year
for 2013.

WISDEN WRITING COMPETITION WINNER, 2012

B
RIAN
C
ARPENTER

It is a warm evening in south London, with just a hint of the hazy stickiness that infuses the capital’s air when the temperature and humidity climb. It is July 2012 and
the sunshine comes as welcome relief after weeks of sullen skies and intense rain.

The Oval is tense as Kevin Pietersen searches for the fluency and restless innovation which are the leitmotifs of his best batting. The South African attack is fast, skilful and persistently
accurate. On 14, Pietersen is dropped at second slip by Jacques Kallis. It is an illusory release of pressure.

He has added only two runs before his stumps are shattered by Morne Morkel, a gangling young Afrikaner with gentle features which contrast sharply with the coltish aggression of his bowling,
where pace and bounce are all. Pietersen, with his proud, upright bearing and composed demeanour, leaves the field. The mood is heavy with the scent of unburdened emotion and thwarted ambition.

One of the South African team is Hashim Mahomed Amla, a 29-year-old from Durban who is now among the world’s greatest batsmen. He has met Pietersen before. In 1999, Amla and Pietersen
played for KwaZulu-Natal against England. Pietersen saw himself as a shackled, repressed talent, forced to bowl off-spin while dreaming of a better life abroad; Amla was 16, saturnine and
clean-shaven, yet to become the wearer of the second-most-celebrated beard in cricket history.

A few months later, Pietersen left South Africa. Amla stayed, endured dark times and eventually flourished. His batting is a potent amalgam of technical precision, fluid timing and understated
power. In 2012, in England, this is as good as the batsman’s art can get.

The history of South African Test cricket is weighed down by unfulfilled expectations and denied promise. Great, great players – Pollock, Procter, Richards, van der Bijl – went to
their cricketing graves without an extended opportunity to display their talents on the widest stage. But this is to say nothing of the legions of cricketers who, because of their race, were denied
the chance to stand even on the rung below.

Once upon a time, Amla would have been the player required to leave his homeland to realise his potential and live out his dreams. It would have been the destiny of Pietersen, with his expensive
Pietermaritzburg education and his apparently inviolable sense of self-certainty, to wear the national cap.

Amla is a modest, reserved, devout man. He wastes little emotion but, as he leaves the field at the close of a day on which he has completed the highest individual score by a South African Test
batsman, he exudes calm satisfaction. His place in history is secure.

Cricket is a game of conjunctions, of ironies, of veiled resonances. When Hashim Amla was a boy, his country didn’t have an international team. Now, for him and his nation, the feeling of
belonging is sweet.

This is their time.

Brian Carpenter grew up watching Middlesex and England in the 1970s and 1980s. He is now often to be found on Gimblett’s Hill at Taunton or in the Warner Stand at
Lord’s. He blogs at
differentshadesofgreen.blogspot.com

THE COMPETITION – THIS YEAR AND NEXT

Wisden
received more than 100 entries for its first writing competition. They arrived from all corners of the globe, all ages, and both genders. The
standard was almost invariably high, and the business of judging tricky. In the end, though, the editorial team were at one in selecting Brian Carpenter as the first winner of what is intended to
become
an annual award
. The prize is publication, adulation, and an invitation to the launch dinner.

There are one or two minor changes of housekeeping for the
2013 competition
, and the basic rules are given below. Anyone who has not been commissioned for
Wisden
before can take part. Entries, which should not have been submitted before and are restricted to a maximum of two per person, must be:

Articles should be emailed to
[email protected]
, with “Writing Competition” as the subject line.
Alternatively, they can be posted to: Writing Competition, John Wisden & Co, 13 Old Aylesfield, Golden Pot, Alton, Hampshire GU34 4BY. Please provide your name, address and telephone number.
Bloomsbury staff and those who, in the editor’s opinion, have a working relationship with
Wisden
are ineligible. The editor’s decision is final. Once again, we look forward to
reading your contributions.

THE 2012 ENTRANTS

Brian Baker; Andrew Bloxham; Keith Booth; Geoffrey Brooks; Michael Burnett; Malcolm Burr; Gordon Campbell; Jonathan Campion; Brian Carpenter; Paul Caswell; Jeff
Chandler; Matthew Cheadle; Simon Cleverley; Terry Coffey; David Cohen; Angus Cooper; Gerry Cotter; Terry D’Arcy; Martin Davies; Tim Day; Ewan Day-Collins; Viraj R. Deshpande; Aditya Deuskar;
Ethan Dwinger; Phillip Edwards; Simeon Edwards; Giles Falconer; Keith Feaver; Alex Fein; Stewart Francis; David Fraser; Allan Garley; Stephen Gibbs; Tony Giles; Yaron Gottlieb; Ian Gray; James
Greenbury; Rory Gribbell; Jon Guard; P. J. Hadcock; Mike Harfield; Brian Harwood; Mike Hill; M. J. Holmes; Irfan Nazir; Georgia Isaac; Nilesh Jain; Steve Jennings; Philip Jones; Shyam Krishnan;
James Lawrence; Roger Lewis; Amy Lofthouse; Howell Lovell; Michael Mackenzie; Edmund Martin; David Matthews; Neil Matthews; Paul Mercer; Keith Miller; Peter Miller; Greg Morrissey; David Moyes;
Nayeem Islam; John Newth; Murrell Osborne; Ken Payne; David Pennington; Lionel Pike; David Potter; Samanta Priyanka; Ravi Kumar Putcha; Satish Kumar Putcha; Partab Ramchand; Keith Riches; Chris
Rigby; Martin Roe; Mark Sanderson; Apurv Sardeshmukh; Christopher Sharp; C. J. A. Slater; Alan Smith; Chris Smith; Stuart Smith; Joshua Spink; Michael Strong; Tom Stuttard; S. B. Tang; James
Thomson; Fergal Tobin; Denis Vaz; Malcolm Watson; John West; Robert West; Alan White; Reg White; Simon White; Trevor Woolley; Peter Yarlett; Zeeshan Mahmud.

FIVE CRICKETERS OF THE YEAR

The Five Cricketers of the Year represent a tradition that dates back in
Wisden
to 1889, making this the oldest individual award in cricket. The Five are picked by
the editor, and the selection is based, primarily but not exclusively, on the players’ influence on the previous English season. No one can be chosen more than once. A list of past Cricketers
of the Year can be found at
www.wisden.com

N
EIL
M
ANTHORP

Hashim Amla enjoyed one of the most productive tours of England ever seen. In all three formats he was prolific, top-scoring in eight of his 11 international innings. His
triple-century in the First Test at The Oval was as career-defining as it was nation-defining: he was the first South African to reach the landmark. It was an epic, and the fact that it laid the
platform for a famous series win marked it out for eternal fame. By the time he added another century, in the Third Test at Lord’s, he had edged past even Jacques Kallis as the wicket England
craved most.

Amla produced yet another hundred in the one-day series, at Southampton, prompting coach Gary Kirsten to purr: “The pitch was extremely awkward, the bowling very good. To make 150 out of
287 rates it very highly, probably in the top three one-day innings for South Africa.” Accolades kept coming his way as the year progressed; by the end, he had scored 1,950 runs in all
internationals, at an average of nearly 63.

Inevitably, there was much talk of his heritage and its historical significance. But Amla, a 30-year-old, third-generation South African, downplays the situation without demeaning it. “The
post-apartheid era has been around for a long time, so we are accustomed to seeing people of all races representing South Africa,” he says. “I understand that older generations may find
some satisfaction in my achievements, but it is not a factor for me or the team. We were just little boys when Nelson Mandela was released from prison.”

A simple question reveals his essence: does he see himself as a role model? “You
are
a role model as an international sportsman. The only choice is whether you are a good or a bad
one. I would like to be a good one.” And Amla means to be a role model to everyone, irrespective of colour, creed or religion.