How deep does the malaise run

I'm in the middle of a bad dream; Like Jekyll & Hyde, Romantic and Pragmatist share my cricketing soul whenever I think of anything to do with Pakistani cricket. Perhaps Beauty & The Beast is a more appropriate analogy, such is the magic of their style of cricket when everything is above board and the witchcraft that is now doing the rounds of the rumour mills once more.

When I heard of the latest allegations involving match-fixing, the romantic in me refused to believe that such dastardly deeds could possibly happen. Surely no one could be that greedy, that stupid or that mercenary to risk a nation's morale at a time when the whole world was rallying around Pakistan in its time of crisis. Last Friday, my local ABC radio station in Brisbane ran a concerted appeal to raise money for flood victims and by 3 pm, the tally was already pushing the $1.4 million mark. It was as if the darkest hour had passed and the rain clouds were about to slip over the horizon, only for this latest storm to engulf a nation for whom cricket might have been the source of some comfort during a period of pain. For that reason alone, the silly romantic in me refused to believe that any Pakistani cricketer would countenance any form of deception at a time when so many of his countrymen were facing ruin and collapse on a much larger scale than anything that cricket has to offer. Yet, cricket and life in Pakistan are almost too hard to separate at times. I recall the pain in the words of the bloggers at the time of the Sri Lankan team's shooting incident last year and it's clear that for many Pakistan citizens, the two are bound together in bonds of honour and national identity.

And yet, the cold, hard pragmatist in me felt ashamed to admit that this latest revelation did not shock me to the core. There was almost a sense of "here we go again". We've all heard the innuendo, taken some of it with a pinch of salt, swallowed what was left with an uneasy gulp and wondered if there could be this much smoke without a smouldering ember in someone's conscience. I remember the day when a Pakistani friend who was a professional in one of the English leagues told me in 1999 that Pakistan would lose to Bangladesh in a World Cup match. I just laughed at him and told him not to be so pessimistic until I realised (in hindsight) that he was speaking in pain and shame rather than with nerves or pessimism.

That was when I first started to question whether the players themselves were in on the game. I did my dough a few months later when I checked the long range weather forecast and backed a draw in Centurion, only to wake up and discover that Hansie Cronje had allowed England to chase down 249 to win on the last day, after forfeiting his second innings. I put that down to a sporting declaration gone horribly wrong until the truth emerged a few months later, honour washed down the drain along with Cronje's halo.

Since then, I've wavered between romanticism and pragmatism in equal measure. As a cricket purist, I've taken great pleasure in watching Mohammad Asif and Mohammad Amir these last 8 months or so, swerving the ball around corners and bringing the artistry of swing bowling right back into focus. Geniuses, both of them.

As a keen punter, the pragmatist in me has learned his lesson from bitter past experiences. In Sydney earlier this year, I backed Australia about an hour into the Hussey/Siddle partnership because I had this uneasy sixth sense that a miracle (or dark deed) was about to unfold. The bookmaker who took my bet laughed at me and said "mate, there's only one team that can win this game", to which I casually replied (not realising how poignant it would appear in hindsight), "I know but when that team is Pakistan, it's worth having a little flutter the other way". After the game, the same bookie called me and asked me if I knew anything. I laughed and told him that it was nothing more than a lucky guess with just an instinct for something that was not quite kosher.

A few weeks later, when Pakistan were chasing a low total in the Twenty20 game in Melbourne, when the two Akmal brothers were batting together for the first time all summer, I again backed Australia to win the game at long odds. Coincidentally, the same bookie took the bet and his sarcastic comment was "not another conspiracy theory again is it, mate?" I gave him the same logic, arguing that at these prices, it was worth losing a few dollars just in case the unbelievable happened. An hour later, the bookie called me and was no longer convinced by my genuine promise that I was relying on nothing more than gut instinct.

Winners are grinners of course. Just to prove I have no crystal ball, I backed Pakistan in that semi-final of the World Twenty20 a few months ago and lost my money when Mike Hussey smeared Saeed Ajmal out of the park. To be fair though, it's pretty hard to deliberately lose a game when someone bats as brilliantly as Hussey did that day. How can you fix that sort of result when you rely on someone else's brilliance to that extent?

I thought of backing England at 6/102 a few days ago but it was late at night in Australia, I fancied my warm bed and I didn't quite have that same gut instinct gnawing away at me. Looking back now, imagine the odds of England winning by an innings at that point?

Which brings me back to my source of confusion. If any of these latest allegations are true (and I'm still hoping that it's all a bad dream), how can it be possible for just a few players to be in on the scam? Surely it's all in or nothing, isn't it? If you look at the Sydney Test for example, it takes more than one fielder to drop catches to manufacture a result like that. It requires the batsmen not to miss a straight ball or get hit on the pads or lob a catch to another fieldsman or drag an inside edge onto the stumps. For that reason alone, I'd like to think that there was nothing sinister in that game, just an amazing innings from Hussey, some confused captaincy under pressure and a bit of panicky batting in the chase by Pakistan. To come to any other conclusion would be to necessarily believe that almost everybody was in on the sting and I simply cannot bring myself to believe that. And yet, my instincts kept telling me to have a little flutter on the rank outsider!

Way back in December 2008, I wrote a piece on 'live betting' that attempted to highlight the dangers of cricketing authorities becoming too close to the whole betting industry. I make my point again, this time with the benefit of hindsight. If this unholy alliance continues, some of the mud that is being thrown around will eventually stick. This time around it may be a hoax or a scam involving just one or two desperate individuals but if you sup with the devil, you will sip his poison too. And that's why I think it is irresponsible for national cricketing bodies (and broadcasters to a certain extent) to be in partnership with live betting agencies. Even if there is no fire, it may be perceived as a game of smoke and mirrors. Unlike Amir and Asif, they cannot even claim to have accidentally overstepped the line. They can't say they weren't warned!

In my dream, Romantic looks wistfully at himself in the mirror and recoils in horror at Pragmatic staring back at him, fistful of dollars in one hand, the other arm outstretched and the call of "no-ball" clearly heard above the drone of a betting company's blimp circling Lord's like a giant vulture, waiting to pick the bones of cricket's carcass.