The Power Structure of Asian Cricket: A Game Caught Between Boards, Calendars and Politics

Asian cricket is usually read off the scoreboard: who won, who lost, who scored how many. But the real story of the game on this continent is written off the field — in boardrooms, in broadcast-rights auctions, and in the diplomatic arithmetic that decides which country gets how many matches and which gets none. This report is not a match report or a series diary. It is an analysis of the structure within which Asian cricket operates, and of why the priorities of the game are so often set by commerce and politics rather than by cricket itself. The organisational centre of Asian cricket is the Asian Cricket Council (ACC), established in the 1980s. Formally it is a regional body that runs the Asia Cup and coordinates between member boards. In practice its decision-making reproduces the same asymmetry that exists in world cricket. Within Asia there are full-member boards with Test status and a strong financial base, and there are members that sit almost entirely outside the mainstream bilateral calendar. This two-tier arrangement within a single continent is not anyone's fault — it is historically produced — but its effect is that ACC decisions tend to orbit the convenience of its most powerful member. The Asia Cup is the clearest illustration. It is the ACC's flagship tournament, and its format has changed repeatedly: one-day, then T20, then a mix of both. Changing format is not inherently bad; adapting the product to audiences and markets is normal. The problem is that hosting decisions are rarely made on logistics and stadium readiness alone. Hosting rights become part of a political balance, and the usual outcome is a compromise that satisfies nobody fully but keeps the tournament from being postponed. The most discussed example is the "hybrid model", under which one country was awarded hosting rights while matches involving certain teams were staged in a third country. The arrangement works technically, but it makes one thing clear: political friction in Asian cricket has become part of the rulebook. When diplomacy has to be built into the venue and calendar decision, the autonomy of sports administration is visibly limited. On the economic axis, the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI) is the largest financial centre at both continental and global level. India's domestic market, the price of television and digital rights, and the popularity of the Premier League together create a revenue pool against which the economic base of most other Asian boards looks small. This inequality is not just a matter of statistics — it directly determines which tour is considered commercially viable and which tour gets space in the calendar. When a large share of revenue comes from one market, the availability and security review of that market becomes the priority of the whole system. This is where revenue distribution becomes the point of contention. Money generated by ACC tournaments has tended to be settled in annual meetings rather than through a transparent process. The complaint of smaller members has been consistent for years: tournaments exist because of the participation of boards with large markets, but the share of the benefit does not follow the same proportion. The answer to this debate is not technical but constitutional — a clear, public, multi-year revenue-sharing formula that every member can know in advance. The political variable with the greatest impact on this entire structure has been the relationship between India and Pakistan. It is no secret that the two teams have not played a bilateral series for several years and meet only in multi-team tournaments. The effect is twofold. First, fans do not get the rivalry that is regarded as Asian cricket's biggest commercial property. Second — and more seriously — both the ACC and the ICC have to build schedules in which the risk to the participation of the two countries is nil. That uncertainty affects ticket sales, broadcast timetables and sponsor agreements alike. Calendar politics is not confined to governments. Over the past decade, franchise-based T20 leagues have taken space away from the international calendar. Besides the Indian league, such leagues exist in Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, Pakistan and the United Arab Emirates, and players from several countries appear in more than one league a year. For boards these leagues are a revenue source, for players a livelihood, but for the national-team calendar they are a constant pressure. The consequence is that bilateral series shrink and are replaced by shorter, faster tournaments — convenient for broadcasters, not always useful for the long-term development of the game. The most striking positive change in Asian cricket is the rise of Afghanistan. A team that emerged from war and displacement achieved full membership in a few years and became a regular at major tournaments. That achievement belongs to sporting talent, but behind it lies a cricket structure that began in refugee camps and a long period of playing "home" matches on foreign grounds. Similarly, teams such as Nepal, Oman and the United Arab Emirates have carved out space in limited-overs cricket. They prove the depth of Asian cricket, but their biggest obstacle is the oldest one — not enough matches to gain experience. Player workload is the least heard side of this debate. A modern Asian international cricketer carries three commitments in a year: the national team, the domestic structure and franchise leagues. Travel, practice and recovery time between them keeps shrinking. Rising injury rates and rising anxiety among players are the direct signal. Player associations are weak in most Asian countries, so the players' side is not properly heard at the table where calendars are decided. A formal consultation mechanism — with player representatives in calendar meetings — could reduce this imbalance. Women's cricket is the fastest-growing and least-funded part of this structure. Women's tournaments in Asia are now regular and the performance level of some teams has risen quickly, but the gaps in number of matches, match fees, broadcast coverage and domestic structure all remain. That gap is not only a question of fairness but of market: a sport without broadcast space will not build sponsor value, and without sponsor value there is no argument for giving it broadcast space. Breaking that cycle requires investment first, not waiting for the market to arrive later. Another overlooked dimension is weather and geography. Most international seasons in South Asia run under the double pressure of heat and monsoon. Day matches in extreme heat are a health risk for players, and the rate of washouts affects the credibility of several tournaments. These risks should be standardised in calendar planning on the basis of meteorology, not only broadcast windows. Reserve days and day-night scheduling need clear rules fixed in advance, so that they are not negotiated mid-tournament. The summary of all this is that the problems of Asian cricket come from a single root: decision-making is opaque, and the largest financial stakeholder has a disproportionate influence over it. Two concrete paths can be suggested. First, a public, multi-year, pre-announced formula for revenue sharing and hosting allocation — with hosting decided by fair rotation and clear criteria rather than political bargaining. Second, publishing the written record of ACC decisions, so that it can be examined on what reasoning a decision was taken. Is Asian cricket moving towards these reforms? The signals are mixed. On one side the game is expanding: new countries are arriving, women's cricket is gaining acceptance, audiences are growing. On the other, the old inequalities persist — calendar uncertainty, unequal revenue distribution, player fatigue and political blockage. Asian cricket runs on the world's largest audience base, but its administration has not yet become institutional in proportion to that scale. Until the rules are written and public, every big decision will continue to be made in back rooms — and the direction of a game played on the field will keep being decided off it.