How did the Indian cricket board become the most profitable sports organisation in the country? Why does the national hockey association looks like a police academy? And why does the football federation feel like a political theatre?
The answers are all very simple and self-evident: the first is run by a successful businessman, the second by a former police officer and the third by a seasoned politician.
You can see traces of these three (fairly) old men from disparate backgrounds in the three sports that they rule.
Let''s start with their selection policies, the one exercise that usually raises as much heat and excitement as the Lok Sabha polls itself.
India''s hockey team is selected by the coach (at least till now) and either vetoed or approve by the president himself. Our cricket squad is picked by a high-profile committee, with the captain and the coach as special invitees while the national soccer outfit is the responsibility of one man: the national coach.
In the first case, you can see the hand of a strict officer; in the second, the touch of a clever businessman and in the third the guile of a politician who keeps all the authority but not the responsibility.
It''s not surprising, therefore, that every time a hockey team is announced, there are whispers of personal likes or dislikes, accusations of regional bias or various other prejudices. Cricket selections, on the other hand, have become much more peaceful and acceptable in recent times. Finally, there are virtually no complaints or quibbles in football.
Dalmiya, the businessman, is probably the wiliest politician among the trio: he is invariably in the right frame at the right time. He treats his words like precious stones and rarely, if ever, throws them away.
Munshi, the politician, is probably the most successful autocrat among the lot: he has been at the helm of his federation for close to 15 years. The country might be languishing at the bottom of the world ladder for years but nobody dares question him; money might be pouring in from various quarters but no one knows or dares to ask where it goes.
Gill, the police officer, is clearly the shrewdest businessman. He successfully sells sponsors and people hope and past glory when both are realistically not within reach. Every time a victory is achieved, he succeeds in hyping it up as the great Indian revival while defeats are brushed off as mere experiments.
The Big Three raise money (mostly for the game), stay in the limelight (by riding on the sport) and rule their own vehicles with iron fists (for obvious reasons). Until this is changed, teams with great tradition and history like Bagan and Sporting will continue to languish.