Second XI

by Tim Wigmore

  An increasingly development-focused ICC was seeking to bridge the gap between the Test nations and the best of the rest. A symbol of this commitment was the launch of the Intercontinental Cup, a multi-day format given first-class status and in effect serving as a barometer for readiness to play Test cricket, although a pathway to Test status did not exist. Nepal remained in the competition in 2005, but then lost a play-off to Namibia to lose the right to compete in the 2006/07 tournament.

  Perhaps this had all happened too quickly. Such opportunities implied a readiness that had not yet been attained by this fledgling cricket nation. Dias had overseen a rapid development of cricket in the country, but fundamental constraints remained that stopped Nepal reaching the next level. The country may have been playing first-class cricket, but the domestic set-up was still deeply flawed. There was neither the quality nor the quantity of cricket in Nepal to sustain this progress.

  It seems amazing that Nepal played in the Intercontinental Cup in 2004 without any structured, regional domestic tournament; their inexperience was painfully revealed in the five years that followed that competition. Until recently, most Nepalese players went into an international tournament having played only two or three competitive matches in the preceding six months.

  It was not just geographical, logistical and structural issues that Dias faced: there was also the question of finance. Finances and career viability are among the hardest challenges for an associate nation. While the rest of the world wondered whether Nepal would turn youth team brilliance to international dominance, Dias faced the more urgent problem of keeping his young stars.

  Kanishka Chaugai, one of the best players from the 2006 Under-19 World Cup campaign, was set for a sparkling international future. Performing on the cricket field is one thing; securing your financial future quite another. With no prospects of making a living out of cricket in his homeland, he accepted a scholarship to study in the USA. Others followed, undermining Dias’s plans. ‘I don’t blame any cricketer in Nepal for going abroad,’ Dias admitted in 2008. ‘For them cricket is secondary because they can’t make a living out of it.’

  Dias’s solution was an interesting one. He wanted leading companies to employ a member of the national team squad. They would need to accept flexible working patterns to enable the players to train and play, but in return they would receive a marketing boost of a patriotic gesture and a star in their midst. Intelligent and pragmatic, but sadly not, as it transpired, a workable solution.

  One challenge associate teams face that full members don’t is genuinely must-win fixtures; encounters that define the fate of a cricketing nation. Bangladesh may lose a dozen games in a row, but they will remain a full member, retaining their financial and structural stability. Associates have no such luxuries. Moreover, they must face these crucial games with amateurish preparation.

  It is this that made the embarrassing and baffling defeats to Qatar and Fiji so devastating. They meant Nepal failed to qualify for the 2005 ICC Trophy. As with the Dutch debacle against Kenya in the 2014 World Cup qualifier where the Netherlands lost everything, these were dark days.

  The timing was a disaster for Nepal: the ICC Trophy was the tournament used to grade and reward the associates through the High Performance Programme (HPP) and the World Cricket League. There would be no threefold increase in ICC funding or glamorous ODI outings for Nepal. Instead, they lined up against Japan and Germany in World Cricket League Division Five. From that lowly position the prospect of qualifying for the next ICC Trophy, let alone the World Cup, looked depressingly bleak.

  It was a humiliating fall from grace, and fans started to believe that Dias’s orthodoxy prevented them from reaching the next level. Respected and revered as he was, could his textbook dogma propel Nepal to success in the age of Twenty20? ‘He doesn’t teach them to score boundaries,’ one exasperated fan told me on the boundary at World Cricket League Division Five.

  When Nepal hosted World Cricket League Division Five two years later, this passion and frustration boiled over. Angered in equal measure by the reliance of visiting nations on expatriates and the lack of flamboyancy in their own team, the 12,000-strong home crowd grew restless during the game against the USA as Nepal looked set to miss out on promotion on net run rate.

  Irish cricket writer and photographer Barry Chambers was there and tells a darkly amusing anecdote. Having chatted to a local fan beside him earlier in the match, he saw his new acquaintance return to his spot wearing a motorcycle helmet. Chambers asked if he was preparing to leave, as it seemed an odd time to do so with the match and the tournament so delicately poised. ‘I’ll need it shortly, you’ll see,’ the man replied.

  Moments later, both men ran for cover as a shower of rocks hailed down on them from the banking above as the crowd went wild. The press fled the media tent under the bombardment. The police pushed the fans back, some reports claiming with tear gas, while players and the media circumnavigated the ground with wheelbarrows clearing up rocks.

  To the ICC’s shame, rather than penalise the hosts it restarted the game, giving Nepal a favourable adjusted target and enabling them to scrape through to promotion at the expense of Singapore.

  Having been in charge for ten years, Dias stood down in 2011 and was replaced by his compatriot Pubudu Dassanayake. A former Test wicketkeeper, he had coached Canada to the 2011 World Cup and a much-coveted place in the HPP.

  When Dassanayake arrived, Nepal were a respected side at regional level but they had yet to make the global impact the fans demanded. He encountered an amateurish cricket administration in which political interference was rife, as well as a haphazard and uncoordinated domestic structure. Nepal had talent, but they lacked many of the prerequisites needed to develop as a cricket nation.

  CAN was an antiquated organisation, ill-equipped to make the far-reaching reforms necessary for Nepalese cricket to become a global presence. With officials appointed and discarded at the whim of government ministers who knew little about cricket, in reality the sport was run by regional volunteers. ‘The structure blocked professionalism of the sport,’ recounted Devendra Subedi, vice-president of the Nepal Sports Journalist Forum and a local umpire.

  In many associates, where the hegemony of football is total, the professionalism of cricket is an almost laughable prospect. But with the popularity and potential sponsorship opportunities Nepal offers, it is the amateurism of officials, rather than a lack of public interest, that inhibits progress.

  Such root-and-branch reforms take years, and in the short term Dassanayake had to focus on the resources he already had available. He arranged scholarships to Sri Lanka to increase the exposure of the players and arranged for the captain, Paras Khadka, to play a season in the Canadian League. Yet these were only token measures. Dassanayake pinpointed a lack of ‘bench strength’ as the main issue he faced, a result of the failing system that he inherited.

  In his first full year in charge, Nepal qualified for the World Twenty20 qualifier, which was help in Dubai in March 2012. It was an important milestone for the country, but with only two qualification spots available Nepal were never close to competing for a place in the tournament proper. The experience was to sharpen his resolve.

  CAN has always lagged behind the ambition of the country’s fans. Many lampooned the governing body as a politically driven relic, devoid of ideas and innovation. By now, the organisation was managing an annual budget of around a million dollars, drawn from an ICC grant, government funding, sponsorship and TV deals. More was being invested in training camps and pre-tournament tours. Regrettably, the fundamental weaknesses were still being ignored.

  There seemed to be no solution, at least not in a time-frame short enough to appease the fans. Possible salvation came from the ICC’s restructuring of their major tournaments. Although the future model for the 50-over World Cup was frustratingly limited to ten teams, the Twenty20 format was opened up, with six out of the 16 teams from the qualifier progressing to a preliminary round o
f the World Twenty20, which would include full members Zimbabwe and Bangladesh.

  It was, said many, a deception which only appeared to present opportunities for aspiring nations while ultimately protecting the commercial interests of sponsors and the top eight full members; for Nepal, it provided a realistic chance of qualification for a global event for the first time in their history.

  The change transformed the 2013 World Twenty20 qualifiers, giving more teams something to compete for. Nepal’s quarter-final against regional rivals Hong Kong was one of those must-win associate fixtures. It needed a heroic all-round performance to pull Nepal through. With 13 required in the last over, Sharad Vesawker hit a four and a six to win the match, World Twenty20 qualification and his own place in the Nepalese sporting pantheon.

  For Vesawker, it would lead to a diary full of chat show appearances and a glimpse of the adoration his captain enjoyed. On one show the presenter ended the 30-minute interview with a deft attempt at expectation management, concluding, ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day after all…it took several years.’ As for Dassanayake, he was hailed as the hero for creating a winning culture and achieving what Dias never could.

  The euphoria proved short-lived. The reality is that without the format change, Nepal would have finished the tournament frustrated and demoralised once again; their semi-final defeat to Afghanistan would have prolonged their wait for an appearance in a global tournament. While the glitz of Twenty20 was undoubtedly attractive, the real prize was a place in the HPP through the World Cup qualifier, held in New Zealand in early 2014. Despite the fans’ expectations, it was an unmitigated disaster that recalled the heartache of 2005.

  In the opening game they were dismantled by the UAE; in the second humbled by Scotland; in the third humiliated by ten wickets by Hong Kong. Their fans had suffered disappointment before, but not when expectations had been so realistically high.

  A perennial problem for Nepal has been the absence of a genuine match-winner. It is telling that in a country where the domestic structure has struggled to produce a player of international quality, so few players have had experience of playing outside Nepal. Fans went into frenzy when leg-spinning all-rounder Shakti Gauchan, known for his football-style knee-slide wicket celebration, was selected to train with Rajasthan Royals in 2012. Training was all he did, however: he did not receive a contract, let alone play a single match in the IPL.

  Seamer Binod Das, now a coach at the National Cricket Academy and popular chat show host, was the first star of Nepalese cricket. A bowler who relied on line and length rather than express pace, he played a starring role in Nepal’s 2004 Intercontinental Cup campaign. Debonair, intelligent and softly spoken, he is arguably the most respected authority on cricket in the country and many believe that he will one day coach the national team, but he does not have the dynamism to develop a profile overseas.

  Dassanayake’s time in Canada had shown that to win key matches, star players had to dominate. The feats of Canada’s John Davison, who scored an extraordinary 111 off 76 balls against West Indies in the 2003 World Cup, were testament to that. His mission is to make heroes out of consistent performers.

  Basant Regmi may never achieve the global profile of Kevin O’Brien or Ryan ten Doeschate but his recent performances have been extraordinary. A promising left-arm seamer in his youth, who could swing the ball both ways, he once uprooted Suresh Raina’s off stump in an Under-17 contest, an anecdote he still relishes recalling. But tragedy struck a few years later, when he almost died in a terrible motorbike accident. ‘After the accident was a difficult time. I felt as if the sky was falling in,’ he recalled. ‘I started again from scratch turning to spin which proved a game changer for me. I tried to imitate Daniel Vettori and learn how a spinner gets batsmen out.’

  He soon became twice the bowler he would ever have been as a seamer. By the start of 2015 he was the all-time leading wicket-taker in the World Cricket League with 96 victims from 46 matches. He has more wickets in fewer matches than the great Afghan quick Hameed Hassan, with a significantly better economy and strike rate. His average of just 11 is truly remarkable.

  Regmi proved too much for Mozambique in 2008 when he demolished them with the extraordinary figures of 5-8. Crucially, he has remained dangerous as Nepal have risen through the divisions, constantly improving as the challenge of out-foxing batsmen has driven him on. He is still young for a spinner and Dassanayake, not one for a throwaway compliment, has stated that Basant has the ability to be the best bowler in associate and affiliate cricket.

  While Regmi has provided the platform for success, the recent rise of Nepalese cricket can be ascribed to one player: the inspirational Paras Khadka. Seldom before has the fate of a cricketing nation been so dependent on the form of one man. He embodies Nepal’s chances of success.

  Khadka became interested in cricket as a schoolboy. At the age of seven he carved his own bat in order to play in the nets after lessons. His talent was spotted at an inter-school tournament from which he was selected for his region and then for the national training camp. Inspired by the giant-killing heroics of the 2002 Under-19 team and the idolisation of their captain Binod Das, he set his heart on playing for his country.

  He did not have to wait long, making his debut as a raw but confident 16-year-old; he soon established himself as the leading all-rounder in the team. He assumed the captaincy in 2009 and has shown himself an astute leader. With responsibility, his own game has flourished. He can bowl both medium pace and off spin. He turned 27 in October 2014 and is already into his second decade as an international cricketer.

  Khadka’s value is perhaps best reflected not in his statistics, impressive as they are, or even his star turns, increasingly frequent in recent years, but in how Nepal fare when he is unavailable. In November 2013 he steered Nepal to the World Twenty20. In March the following year, he was injured as he watched his team capitulate at the World Cup Qualifier. For Nepalese fans ‘P & P’, Pubudu and Paras, are the dream team of coach and captain. The captain is now beginning to earn the money his profile warrants, through CAN payments, match fees, sponsorship and a lucrative sideline in modelling. So far he has not pursued cricketing contracts elsewhere in the world, such as Bangladesh and India, but that remains a possibility.

  While the 2013 World Twenty20 qualifier was a major milestone as far as the cricketing public were concerned, 2014 saw a fundamental reform in the domestic game. Within the existing, archaic structure, players earned a pittance and could not make a living out of cricket. Established stars such as Das and Gauchan managed to pay their bills through a sponsorship deal with a noodle company, but others struggled.

  Slowly, the players began to realise the power they had and used this to shape a game in which good performances were rewarded. Into this impasse entered Zohra Sports Management and telecoms giant NCell with the concept of a lucrative, player-focused Nepal Premier League (NPL), inspired by the popular model south of the border. Launched in a two-day format, squads were to consist of established national team players, the cream of Under-19 talent and two overseas players. It was a pared-down version of the IPL, with a player auction for the franchises to build their squads. Players were paid per match in a sliding scale ranging from 5,000 Rs (£31) for the captain to 1,000 Rs (£6) for Under-19 players. Admittedly a far cry from the millions on offer at the IPL, but a captain’s match fees for seven games was the equivalent of six months’ salary for the average Nepalese person. The principle that cricketers should be treated as professionals was more important than the level of payment.

  Fans thought the creation of the NPL heralded a new dawn of professionalism, but these hopes were thwarted by the perennial problem in Nepalese cricket: the amateurism of the governing body. On the eve of the tournament, CAN withdrew its endorsement citing a lack of transparency around income and expenditure involving Zohra Sports Management. CAN alleges there was a breach of ACC and ICC principles. It transpired that players had refused to accept that their match fees
were managed by CAN, who had failed to honour payments due to them in the past. It was inevitable that players with a global profile would outgrow the parochial governance of CAN.

  The 50-over tournament went ahead but without the headline-grabbing foreign players as proposed. It was not as successful as the sponsors and organisers anticipated for an inaugural season. A precedent had been set, though, and Nepalese cricket will never be the same again. The question is whether the best players will still be available as figureheads for the new league or will they be tempted by better offers from abroad? A similar issue faces Irish, Scottish and Dutch players in their own interprovincial leagues.

  One potential model for the development of cricket in Nepal involves the support of local Test-playing nations. There is no doubt that both Ireland and Scotland benefitted from integration with the English county system. This proximity has led to many Irish and Scots signing full-time county contracts and using their professional experiences to boost the performances of their national sides.

  Cricket Australia has been extremely influential in the development of Papua New Guinea in recent years, through integration into state tournaments and coaching and development initiatives. This raises the question as to why India, the richest and most powerful cricket nation in the world, has not reached out to its northern neighbours. Many feel that it would be a constructive development if the Nepal national team could be incorporated into the Indian domestic List A or first-class structure.

  With the BCCI ignorant of or indifferent to Nepal’s development and deep-rooted flaws in CAN, the role of the ACC has been crucial. ACC development officer Rumesh Ratnayake has been heavily involved, helping to expand coaching support, providing facilities assessment and giving guidance on high performance. Supporting and guiding a cricket organisation stuck in the past rather than looking to the future has not been an easy task for the ACC, but it has performed a vital role behind the scenes: Dassanayake referred to it as the ‘backbone of Nepal cricket’. But with the remit and financial independence of regional development offices left uncertain in the most recent ICC shake-up, it is not yet clear whether organisations such as CAN will be able to rely on it as much in the future.