A Cup-ful of lessons

So how will the first World Cup staged in the West Indies be remembered?

Will it be how Simon Barnes put it in the Times of London, as "the worst sporting event in history", or as Owen Arthur called it: "a tremendous success"?

The detached sports writer and the involved prime minister clearly saw it from two entirely different perspectives, which is bound to be the case for most observers. Certainly, the cherished dream of Chris Dehring, the chief organiser, that it would be the best World Cup ever proved to be an illusion. It was always an unrealistic aim; and even though there were extenuating circumstances, it turned into a nightmare.

The vision of Dehring, as all West Indians, was for Brian Lara, showered in champagne and against the backdrop of dazzling fireworks, to be holding the trophy aloft at the remade Kensington Oval as his became the first team to win the cup on home turf.

That script further called for a gripping tournament, filled with brilliant performances and close contests, played in front of large, enthusiastic, cosmopolitan crowds stirred by the spirit of the Caribbean. It was a far-fetched scenario but the eventual reality was even more improbable.

By the time the cup was presented, for the third successive time to Australia, there was general relief that the tournament was over. It was too long, contained too many lop-sided matches and was blighted with bad luck from the shocking murder of Bob Woolmer that threatened its very continuation within the first week to the shambles that was the showpiece final.

It seemed somehow appropriate that it should end as it did, with the disappointment of the first of the nine finals to be shortened by the weather compounded by the ignorance of four highly-paid, supposedly experienced officials that erroneously extended it into the darkness of overtime.

By then, the West Indies, ill-prepared for such an important assignment, had been dishonourably discharged and Lara was a week into retirement. There was no doubt who the irritated public held responsible for the mess.

At the presentation ceremony after the final Malcolm Speed, International Cricket Council (ICC) chief executive, Ken Gordon, West Indies Cricket Board (WICB) president, and Dehring, the chief executive of World Cup, were each roundly booed. Whether such derision was justified is a moot point.

But instead of the tournament being the best ever, it was condemned in the international media as, variously, a shambles, a disaster, and a debacle, to go along with Barnes' hyperbolic assessment. Yet, at the same time and for justifiable reasons, Arthur was in buoyant mood. Avid cricket fan that he is, the cricket in itself was not his main concern. He was fully satisfied with how his nation coped with what he saw as "definitely the most complex thing that Barbadian society, not the Government, has had to do".

When the tournament was awarded to the Caribbean, and the Super Eights round and the final to Barbados, Arthur said it was "an expression of confidence of who we are and what we can do as a people". It was significant, he felt, that the governments of such small states "should pursue the belief that this region should host something as important as a World Cup".

The people, not least those who staffed the local organising committees (LOCs) in the three years preparing for the event and the thousands of helpful volunteers who were a feature at every venue, proved conclusively that they can cope with a global event of this magnitude.

All the pre-tournament doubts over internal travel and accommodation, based on practical experience, proved largely unfounded. Not every bag arrived in every island at the same time as its owner but there were none of the predicted foul-ups, and the use of cruise liners between Barbados, Grenada and St Lucia in the closing stages could be the template for a new method of regional travel. While there were valid complaints from visitors about the cricket and matters related to the cricket, the overall Caribbean experience made an unmistakable impression.

The 6000 or so Australians who descended on St Lucia and Barbados for the last two matches, and the few hundred Irish who celebrated as only they can their team's unlikely passage through the first round in Jamaica, are unlikely ever to forget it. Judging by comments in the press from a cross-section of other nationalities, this is generally true.

But more telling considerations will follow for Arthur and other prime ministers. They have to convince their constituents that their massive financial investment was worth it and that benefits will follow through the much-hyped legacy.

It is imperative that proposals for maximising the use of the fantastic new and renovated stadia be put quickly in place. Otherwise, they will become a drag on the several economies and on the electoral status of governing parties. For those concerned solely with the cricket side of the cup, "tremendous success" was hardly a fitting description, although unforeseen circumstances conspired against it.

Only two things remained constant throughout - the awesome invincibility of Australia and the adversity that stalked the event at every turn.

Sandwiched between Woolmer's murder and the fiasco of the final, two of the most attractive teams, India and Pakistan, and consequently their fans, were eliminated in the first round; the keen interest of West Indians was diminished by their team's four losses in five Super Eights encounters, and match after match meandered towards its predictable conclusion.

Of the 51 matches over the six weeks (not counting the unofficial warm-ups), six were won by more than 200 runs, including one semi-final, seven by 100 or more and seven by eight wickets or more. Only four went into the last over.

Bangladesh and Ireland were the fairy-tale qualifiers over India and Pakistan. Their success was spirited, deserved and a tremendous boon to the game in their countries; but it diminished the quality of the cup. In any sporting tournament, upsets are likely and not every contest will be tense and exciting. But such shocks and mismatches were heavy body blows.

If such developments on the field were beyond the control of the ICC, World Cup and the LOCs, matters off the field were not.

Anxious to demonstrate the so-called globalisation of the sport and against repeated, if unofficial, advice, the ICC increased the number of teams to 16 and kept the length over six weeks. The tedium typified in South Africa four years earlier was now amplified by the proliferation of dud matches.

There surely must be a review for the next World Cup, in 2011, to ensure that there is more urgency to the contests in the later stages and that the Super Eights are not compromised by matches that end before lunch (or dinner) and feature top teams that omit their leading players with a semi-final in mind.

From the start, the tight restrictions imposed at and around the stadiums, also a complaint in South Africa, and the exorbitant ticket prices rankled fans who saw them as the high-handedness of planners concerned only with gratifying sponsors, lacking a feel for the game and for the uniqueness of the Caribbean, and with little consideration for the pockets of the average West Indian.

These, more than anything else, led to the heckling of Speed, Gordon and Dehring, even though several of the more draconian measures were relaxed towards the end. There were hundreds of lessons to be learned by the ICC, the WICB and regional governments from World Cup 2007. They would be foolish not to heed them.