The wasted decade

Sri Lanka's tour of England marks the end of an era. Ten years on from their spectacular World Cup victory in 1996, a win that signalled the end of their minnow status, there is growing uneasiness about the future. Some former players have been sounding the alarm bells for years, warning that the fruits of that triumph were being squandered by administrative incompetence and shorttermism.

But only now, prompted by their plunging ODI and Test rankings coupled with the retirement of stalwarts like Sanath Jayasuriya, are people realising just how critical the situation has become. The sad truth is that Sri Lanka's cricket system - the development, coaching and administration structures that underpin the national team - is sick and in need of urgent attention after what has been a wasted decade.

The excitement generated by the World Cup win was Sri Lanka's equivalent of England's 2005 Ashes effect. Cricket was carried deep into Sri Lanka's rural out-stations, popularising a sport that had hitherto been largely the preserve of the privileged minority in the main cities. Cricket's growing popularity made a mockery of volleyball's official status as the island's national sport. No other sport mattered any more: cricket was the undisputed No. 1.

World Cup success brought money, too, and lots of it. Before the tournament cricket was run on a shoestring budget. Sri Lanka were the paupers of the world game, capable of paying only meagre salaries to the players. The tour fee for the whole World Cup was only £600 and the match fee was a miserly £40. Training facilities were astonishingly backward. It is alleged that when Alex Kontouri, the team's first full-time physio, was hired in late 1995 he had to plead with the board's treasurer for 10 annual subscriptions to a private gym in Colombo.

But after the win television and sponsorship revenues soared, providing the much needed cash to develop the domestic game. That money was not properly used. It did not end up where it needed to develop the game and got wasted through construction contracts and television deals.

Chronic instability
Within weeks of the World Cup there was a takeover within the administration and two businessmen Upali Dharmadasa and Thilanga Sumathipala replaced Ana Punchihewa, a board president respected for his integrity and vision. It was the beginning of the end, the start of a decade of political infighting. Since the 1996 board elections there has been chronic instability within the administration.

Annual elections are a constant source of intrigue and often farce, as in 1999 when gun-toting private security guards made a dramatic appearance in an apparent attempt to bully voters. As alliances collapse and reform, the complexity of the political machinations that bubble beneath the surface of Sri Lankan cricket is beyond comprehension.

Every now and then the Government, which plays a leading role in this soap opera, is persuaded to join in by one faction or another, suspending democracy and appointing an interim committee in a bid to clean-up the administration. Only last year the Government launched a takeover on the grounds of alleged financial mismanagement. Typically, as has happened numerous times, it triggered a legal wrangle that was ended only when the Government sent armed police into the board's headquarters to wrest control from the outgoing executive committee. The board denied the allegations.

But the Government's own interim committees tend to collapse and the result is a constant change of administrators and no continuity in policy-making. Sri Lankan cricket has had more five-year plans in the last decade than the Soviet Union had in its entire history. They are big on grandiose objectives (ie: to make Sri Lanka the world's best cricket team in five years). The problem is implementation.

The same key problems remain unsolved: poor infrastructure, especially in the out-stations; a pitifully weak first-class structure; and a once great schools system in decline. Several ex-players have been co-opted over the years to address the problems but rarely are their recommendations implemented. Arjuna Ranatunga's recent resignation as chairman of the cricket committee is the latest example. Ranatunga, one of the architects of Sri Lanka's World Cup victory, as well as one of the most outspoken critics of the administrators, quit in disgust after the board ignored the advice of his committee, which included a long list of former captains, and expanded the island's already bloated fi rstclass competition to 20 teams.

Sidath Wettimuny, another former Sri Lanka captain, has also grown increasingly disillusioned: "It's worrying because the planning is all about what can be done for today. We are not thinking of tomorrow or the year after. It is a serious problem and until the Government and the sports ministry realise the importance of this game to the country, the importance of what it brings to Sri Lanka by way of goodwill, tourism and exposure, my fear is that nothing will happen. There is no urgency about what needs to be done to improve long-term structures."

Declining standards
The first-class system is a case in point. While most other countries have focused their attention on raising the standard of their domestic game, Sri Lanka's major first-class tournament involves the participation of over 400 players each season. Last season Cricinfo's statisticians were left confused about the identity of a new player: he turned out to be the team's bus driver who was filling in for an absentee. The result is a low standard of competition, which means the top players are not challenged sufficiently to prepare them for the international stage.

The tournament is run on largely amateur lines with struggling clubs reliant on tiny central hand-outs (approximately £10,000 a year) for all their equipment and development work. The lucky ones, usually the prestigious clubs with access to sympathetic corporations, secure useful sponsorships while most have to rely on ground hire and bar profi ts to maintain their facilities. As a result, the players are forced to fend for themselves, fitting in cricket after work. Most have no access to top-class coaching or physiotherapy. Many drop out of the system early, their talent wasted forever.

To make matters worse the schools system, once so good that many players were able to jump straight into international cricket, is in crisis after a failed experiment with limited-overs cricket. Playing and coaching standards have dropped alarmingly. Fortunately the current cricket board - an interim committee appointed in March 2005 - has acknowledged the crisis and agreed to invest substantial new funds, completely revamp the tournament structure and introduce an islandwide programme for training coaches.

At the national team level the players have done a remarkable job of covering up the cracks in the system. But they suffer quietly. Their salaries are poor compared with those not only of England and Australia players but of their Asian neighbours. Muttiah Muralitharan could earn twice his annual board income (central contract and match fees) by playing summers for Lancashire. Players have been denied representation by a players' association and the board even refuses to offer them insurance against long-term injury, a basic right even for an average county player in England.

Team selection often seems eccentric at best. Fine players never get a look-in while mediocre ones are frequently promoted. The current four-man selection panel, appointed by the sports minister, includes two members with no first-class experience at all. The input of the coach and captain is frequently ignored. Russel Arnold's omission after he topped Sri Lanka's averages in the recent VB Series was explained away as "resting", yet he had only just reclaimed his place in the team after a year on the sidelines. The necessity of his resting was unclear.

Against this backdrop it is remarkable that Sri Lanka win many matches at all. They have competed with the best, albeit inconsistently, because of some world-class performers backed up by some quality coaches, especially Dav Whatmore - who was treated deplorably before leaving for Bangladesh - and Tom Moody.

What next?
The last wave of the golden generation is now nearing retirement. Chaminda Vaas, Jayasuriya and Marvan Atapattu - if he ever plays again after back surgery - have all vowed to retire after the 2007 World Cup while Murali, 34, is likely to concentrate on Tests only. There are rays of hope in the emergence of Farveez Maharoof (fast bowling allrounder), Malinga Bandara (legspinner), Upul Tharanga (opener) and Chamara Kapugedera (batsman).

But the rebuilding phase will be tough and possibly painful. Patience is required. In the past 10 months the board has invested in a new top quality management team. Moody was employed as head coach with a broad mandate to prepare not only a strong national team but also to build a coherent coaching structure from the grass roots up to the national team.

In addition, Trevor Penney was hired as their first assistant coach, the Australian Tommy Simsek as the physiotherapist, CJ Clarke as a full-time fitness trainer and also Sandy Gordon, a leading sports psychologist, as a consultant. These innovations are positive signs but Sri Lanka still enter the next decade with limited optimism. Below the national team the game needs an overhaul. Individual brilliance may carry them to occasional victories but consistent long-term success will be elusive until the bureaucrats back home get their house in order.