English cricket’s appetite for Indian money has dragged the sport into a murky mix of morality and legality.
Inviting a tiger to tea sounds thrilling—the roar, the power, the drama—but it’s a reminder that the tiger often walks off with your dinner and drains the water supply. Likewise, accepting money from a powerful patron can leave you with little say, and that patron still wields enormous influence.
When you blind‑fold yourself and chase cash, you must remember money is exchanged for something of value, and payment in full will come due. That’s the trap England’s cricket is edging into: a glossy, crisis‑minded fashion show with a first tremor of what may lie ahead in the coming weeks.
Here’s a question no one has settled yet. Could England and Wales Cricket Board (ECB), The Hundred franchises, and their county partners face an employment discrimination claim if Pakistani players are absent from next season’s roster?
The plain answer is: probably not, at least not yet. Nothing has happened. The BBC reported that the four Indian‑owned Hundred franchises are hesitant about hiring Pakistani players. The ECB denies the existence of a shadow ban, though it cannot prove this one way or the other. For now, this remains speculative, a new‑era anxiety.
But does that distinction even matter? The mere existence of the issue is damaging. It threatens to undermine the ECB’s high‑gloss project, marketed as a beacon of openness and modernity, by implying that selection could hinge on race at a time when cricket aims to be inclusive.
If that were the reality, the entire Hundred project—its confident branding, its sentimental marketing, its rhetoric about equality enshrined in law—would collapse once the message becomes: Pakistanis aren’t welcome.
Beyond the legal angles, there is a real risk that discrimination could arise. The question is not whether a Pakistan‑free roster is possible, but whether the right kind of connections and willpower exist to enforce it. The ECB has spent the week trying to douse a growing fire, with chief executive Richard Gould and chair Richard Thompson scrambling to stop a blaze they helped spark.
This is the crucial point. No one can truthfully claim they weren’t warned. The ECB knew that Pakistanis could be excluded from the Hundred. It resisted demanding hard public safeguards as Indian‑owned finance entered the sale. Gould, in particular, floated the possibility that a summer‑long sale to politically connected private equity could come with strings, baggage, or leverage that would shape outcomes.
Why pretend to be certain about anything? Global cricket has long been affected by the India–Pakistan rift. Indian cricket often tracks with Indian politics, especially under the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP).
The BJP is led by Narendra Modi. Jay Shah, head of the International Cricket Council, is Modi’s ally’s son. Facts are not hidden here; the dynamics are visible. Cricket’s global machine is shaped by a nationalistic movement within a single country.
So, it’s no surprise that power and influence were factored into the Hundred’s eye‑catching purchase prices. Some even floated the idea of selling a stake directly to the Indian cricket board or, more pointedly, to the Indian government. This is the landscape we’re in—an English cricket ecosystem hungry for more, always seeking someone else to feed it.
Now we’re seeing a preview of what a summer sale could mean in practice. The men’s Hundred auction list will shrink from around 710 players to roughly 200, with 63 Pakistanis in the mix. The ECB has warned franchises about potential action if discrimination is detected in selection. What form could that action take? It’s unclear, though there’s talk of referring the matter to the cricket regulator. The tension is palpable—billionaire confidence vs. regulatory scrutiny.
At this point, given the sensitivities, it would be surprising if no Pakistani players appear on the longlist. They’re in the mix, and the market isn’t shy about these dynamics. Beyond that, two familiar justifications keep getting recycled: first, that it’s difficult to prove intentional discrimination, and second, the idea that India is financing this and can influence who plays. Both are flawed, with the second being the more significant point.
Enter the law. “Discrimination on the basis of nationality, ethnicity, or national origins is a form of race discrimination under the Equality Act 2010,” notes Susan Perry, a partner at Brecher LLP. “It applies to prospective and current employees. There are real risks for the ECB and franchisees depending on how contracts are structured.”
The argument that a bloc of Pakistani players isn’t good enough to be considered seems weak when the current T20 World Cup’s top run‑scorer is Pakistani and is listed for the Hundred. That speaks to a solid case for inclusion on merit.
To be clear, the concern is not simply about not employing someone; the issue is fair consideration during recruitment. Discrimination isn’t required to be proven beyond reasonable doubt—the law often accepts a balance of probabilities. Clues from surrounding circumstances can reveal biased treatment, and the law is tenacious.
Who could face action? UK employment law can reach overseas bodies under the right conditions, and counties are exposed too. Have they taken reasonable steps to ensure equal treatment for all potential employees at every stage? Can they prove they did?
Another stretch: what about the ECB’s exposure? From all appearances in other leagues, this was foreseeable. The ILT20 franchises in the UAE—affiliates of MI London and Southern Brave—haven’t signed a Pakistani player in four seasons. The Indian‑owned SA20 franchises haven’t either. We’re not naïve; the pattern is clear. Gould’s claim last year that ‘that won’t be happening here’ rings hollow in hindsight.
All this doesn’t guarantee court cases, but it does establish that legal action is a real possibility if the Hundred follows the same trajectory as other leagues. And that would be a stunning reversal for a competition built on inclusion and modern values.
Beyond the legal frame is the moral one. How did the ECB let the summer game drift into this quagmire? How do we reconcile the push for inclusion with the practical reality of a Pakistan‑free Hundred?
And how does this square with the ECB’s State of Equity report, published last November, and its stated goal of making cricket the most inclusive team sport in the country? The report is introduced by Gould’s pledge to fight racism and to expand access, including outreach through street cricket to Pakistani communities.
The contradiction is stark: if it becomes impossible to be Pakistani in the Hundred, the entire equity narrative loses credibility.
One hopes the political pressure and brand risk will derail this trajectory. If not, the ECB leadership faces serious exposure. Gould has talked about accountability for equity and inclusion ambitions. The clock is ticking, and the stakes are high.
