From November 12-15 the professional cricketers international peak body, the Federation of International Cricketers’ Associations, will meet to discuss the future of the professional game.
Australia, New Zealand, England, West Indies, South Africa, Ireland, USA, Netherlands will be represented and sharing the visions of their men and women. Not all the major countries are members: India, as usual, runs its own shop. The Board of Control for Cricket in India pays its stars significantly and the proceeds of the IPL (where the TV rights alone are worth $9 billion for five years) have bolstered their coffers to the extent where a sustainable pension system props up former international and domestic players.
Modern Australian players want for nothing, in stark contrast to previous generations.Credit: AP
The contemporary professional Australian cricketer, male and female, have had the luxury of an independent body, the Australian Cricketers’ Association, to represent their needs, wants and facilitate their living wage since 1997. They don’t have to appear before the board to beg for money or sign contracts that shackle players to duty without reward.
The contemporary player is a true professional who can dedicate his or her full attention to being the best they can be; they don’t have to rush from work to make training before the light fails or pay for a gym session, or book a physio, or mix a rehydrating beverage – they don’t need a real job that pays the bills and hopefully allows paid or unpaid time off.
The contemporary player gets a guaranteed contract amount before they bowl a ball or swing a bat, allowing them to plan their life, buy a car, take out a mortgage, make some investments. For a single generation, the game, in Australia at least, has provided financial independence for male players. Women have caught up rapidly, as Ash Gardner or Phoebe Litchfield may attest, but there is still a long way to go.
I raise all this because I was saddened to read during the week that my old skipper Greg Chappell has hit on some tough times.
The Packer World Series Cricket revolution between 1977 and 1979 sped along the lines of least paid resistance, although that was not the only factor. Wages went up (they could scarcely have been lower) for a few years, but then only the match payment terms. There was no such thing as a contract that a player could rely on to pocket monthly for the bank manager to grant a loan.
I had my first mortgage loan application declined by a certain Australian bank because “cricket was not considered a regular and reliable income”. The fact that I had just been the player of the series in the 1982-83 home Ashes did not seem to cut much mustard.
Those who played in the World Series circus were better off for a short period of time; those who remained loyal, or were not good enough, or didn’t have friends in the right places, were not so.
When the rift was over, the Australia Cricket Board soon reverted to the master-servant relationship. There was no negotiated wage; you had to accept the “letter of invitation”. Literally, a written letter, to play each state and international match, which you could decline if the conditions were not to your liking.
Signed agreements were only presented for overseas tours, as these were paid on a different basis. The contract for the 1984 West Indies tour contained a clause hidden away on the final of 27 pages that said the players were bound to the ACB for two years. There was no remuneration tied to that – players were not considered a principal resource of the game.
Players signed that Windies document under protest. Rodney Hogg did not agree and qualified his response with the appropriate expletive. Imagine a modern player putting up with that?
A faux superannuation fund was established based on how many games were played. ODIs counted for a quarter of a Test match; Sheffield Shield games were assessed to be worth $40 a game, ie, 100 first-class games were worth $4000, before tax. For context, in the history of NSW Cricket, extending back to 1856, only six people have played 100 first-class games.
Test-match super was worth $100 a game. This sum was to be paid two years after retirement and at the absolute discretion of the ACB, so if you wrote a book criticising the ACB, they might decide to reject your “pension” outright.
The first seasonal contracts merely covered the match payments you were set to get anyway. So, if you were given a $5000 contract and played 10 Sheffield Shield games in 1987 then your total wage was $5000. The ACB was not up for any extra money at all.
In the early 1980s there would have been a handful of cricketers in Australia who relied solely on the game for a living, and most of those would have incomes supplemented by sponsors and promotions. In the late 1970s, there were even fewer.
The Australian system was based primarily on a desire to represent state and country, rather than make a living and retiring to the family estate on the proceeds.
There was no meaningful superannuation or pension in the 1980s: ex-players had to find another vocation or relocate their former jobs, while women paid for their own uniforms and travel.
Women are rapidly catching up remuneration wise.Credit: Getty
The ACA now has a player hardship scheme that helps out former first-class players with health or lifestyle issues.
Out of the T20 World Cup last year in Australia, the ACA, through CA, has allocated several million dollars to that fund so that those who chose and were good enough to play the summer game are treated with care and respect for the legacies that they created.
Times change and the modern player is well-fed, well-shod and well-housed, but when an old player left the crease you were never sure whether they would be.
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