Wisden Almanack editor: 2024 was the year cricket gave up any claim to being properly administered

At 11.59 on the night of November 30, Jay Shah was still honorary secretary of the Board of Control for Cricket in India, who were refusing to send a team to Pakistan in February for the ICC’s Champions Trophy. And when the clock struck midnight, he was transformed into… the chair of the ICC, who had been frantically trying to resolve the problem caused by the BCCI. A few weeks earlier, when India confirmed their no-show, a meme on social media depicted a man holding two phones, one to each ear: “Jay Shah (BCCI) informing Jay Shah (ICC)”. Cricket administration, seldom a laughing matter, was now supplying the punchlines.

The reactions to Shah’s ascent were telling. From the BCCI came a gushing email about a “journey to the top that has been nothing short of inspirational” – as if this were some rags-to-riches tale worthy of Cinderella. (Of Jay’s dad, the second-most powerful politician in India, there was no mention. Nor of the BCCI’s evolving relationship with the ruling BJP, who were implacably opposed to restoring relations with Pakistan.) From Shah’s predecessor, New Zealander Greg Barclay, came a plea to ensure cricket did not fall under the “yoke of India”, which felt a bit late in the day. From everyone else came, well, not a lot. After all, Indian administrators and broadcasters already ran the show, took the main chunk of the financial pie, ensured World Cups were scheduled to suit their vast TV audience – even when the tournament was on the other side of the world. Why poke the bear? The communal shrug confirmed a sorry truth: 2024 was the year cricket gave up any claim to being properly administered, with checks, balances, and governance for the many, not the few. India already had the monopoly: now they had hotels on Park Lane and Mayfair.

It is often said the ICC have become little more than an events company. The craven reorganisation of the Champions Trophy, with India’s games moved at the 11th hour from Pakistan to the Gulf – three years after the schedule had been agreed by everyone, including Shah’s BCCI – failed to clear even that low bar. And because of the late rejig, tickets did not go on sale until three weeks before the start; not for the first time, the fans were collateral damage. England and Australia, the only other countries with a hint of clout, acquiesced with barely a squeak. Shah’s coronation – uncontested, naturally – was in no small part a consequence of their refusal to hold India to account. A decade or so earlier, the talk had been of a Big Three takeover. Now, cricket has handed over the only key not already in India’s possession. All hail the Big One.

Shah may yet surprise us, and he began with the kind of fighting talk not readily associated with the ICC, promising a “tenure rich with collaborative efforts”, and pledging to “transform adversity into triumph”. He may redistribute cricket’s wealth, to better sustain the poorer nations and fulfil the ICC’s mission statement about growing the sport. He may discourage plans to indulge India, England and Australia in an endless triangle of mutual back-scratching. But he would be undoing his work at the BCCI, who in 2023 happily accepted a bigger slice of the ICC’s annual handout. And he would be moving against the direction of travel: selfishness is now ingrained in the global game, as T20 tournaments scramble for the best players, and the cricket itself becomes ever more one-dimensional, even while boards chase the chimera of perpetual growth.

He could do worse than impose sense on the schedule. When Barclay marked his departure with a frank interview in The Daily Telegraph, he admitted he had no idea South Africa were hosting Sri Lanka until he read about Marco Jansen’s seven-for at Durban. The international calendar was, he said, “a mess”, as if he hadn’t just spent the last four years in the ICC chair. In theory, that chair has now been filled by the only man in the game who can lend it heft. If Shah starts reining in the BCCI, cricket really will have gone through the looking glass.

Just keep it simple

Among the first items in Shah’s in-tray ought to be the World Test Championship, a shambles masquerading as a showpiece. With teams playing a different number of matches against a different set of opponents, it requires a calculator to rank them, offending the first rule of thumb for any sporting endeavour: it must be easy to follow. The current edition, which climaxes at Lord’s in June, has shone a light on this absurdity.

South Africa, who sent a C-team to inevitable defeat in New Zealand, and whose home schedule in 2025/26 currently comprises five T20s, reached the final thanks to wins in the West Indies and Bangladesh, then at home against Sri Lanka and Pakistan – all in two-match series, the bane of the Test schedule. And while the race for Lord’s gave several games context and drama they would otherwise have lacked, the fact that India, England and Australia all played five-match series against each other turned that race into a weird hybrid – like trying to choose between the winner of the 400m hurdles and the 100m sprint.

This is not South Africa’s fault. It may even be to their benefit, if the path from laughing stocks to Lord’s persuades their board that Test cricket is worth saving. But the ICC cannot allow the championship to continue as if designed on the back of a fag packet. Double its length to four years, like football and rugby, and ensure the top nine in the rankings all play each other, home and away, over series of at least three Tests. Anything but Barclay’s “mess”.

As 2024 repeatedly reminded us, Test cricket is more competitive than proponents of a two-tier system believe. West Indies prevailed at the Gabba, Sri Lanka at The Oval. Bangladesh won in Pakistan, who came from behind to beat England, who won in New Zealand, who had just won 3-0 in India, who won the First Test in Australia, who won three of the next four. Early in 2025, West Indies squared a series in Pakistan. Unpredictability is the essence of sport. So is entertainment: of the 53 Tests in 2024, three were drawn, and two of those were rain-affected; at 3.65 runs an over, it was also the fastest-scoring year in history, beating 3.52 in 2023. Test cricket can hardly be accused of failing to adapt.

The Border–Gavaskar Trophy, meanwhile, was an instant classic, attracting 837,879 spectators, a non-Ashes record. At the MCG, where Australia won by taking seven Indian wickets in the last session, 373,691 had turned up, surpassing a record set in Bradman’s day. It seemed like a moment in time: by several measures, the BGT is now bigger than the Ashes.

The response to all this must not be to insist on more, more, more – diluting the marquee series until they lose what makes them special. It must be to resist two divisions, and to invest in Test cricket everywhere, creating a more attractive proposition for the broadcasters. ICC insiders fear they will get nothing like the £2.4bn TV deal that runs out in 2027, with potentially damaging consequences for many Test nations. It’s in everyone’s interests to share the love.

Faustian pact – or financial panacea?

The headlines were breathless, the numbers breathtaking. Welsh Fire had been valued at £83m, Oval Invincibles £123m, and London Spirit – burnished by the Lord’s factor – £295m. The investors included the CEOs of Google and Microsoft, IPL owners, Indian tech bros and real-estate moguls. As MCC, the Spirit’s landlords, salivated over doing business with “high net-worth individuals”, the ECB sailed past their estimate for the eight franchises of £350m and into the dream territory of £975m, not far off the £1bn posited by chairman Richard Thompson in late 2022. Since the board’s own accounts for 2023-24 had announced a profit of £22.82m, this was stratospheric stuff.

If The Hundred is to be judged solely on the bottom line, the ECB deserve a pat on the back. Chief executive Richard Gould wants to future-proof the county game for “20 to 25 years” – a decent retort to those who regard the competition as an existential threat. The investment should unlock around £29m for each of the 11 non-host counties and, in the long run, plenty more for the eight hosts (who include MCC). These are dizzying figures for clubs used to counting pennies: the domestic game’s collective debt was said to be £200m.

But, amid the jubilation, there was still – just about – room for scepticism. No matter how well the non-host counties have done from the arrangement, the gap with the host counties will eventually grow. And, though the ECB hope to expand the competition, what happens if the initial investment runs out? Five of the eight were set to retain their locked-in 51 per cent share of the franchise, leaving scope for another windfall. But Yorkshire sold all their share of Northern Superchargers to Sun Group, owners of the IPL’s Sunrisers Hyderabad. Headingley’s debts can be settled, but their wriggle room has already vanished.

It will be intriguing to see how these two worlds rub along, not least when venues undergo their makeovers. The ECB hope for harmony and mutual benefit, and they may prove correct. But not all businessmen are philanthropists, whatever the honeymoon promises. And that is before we consider the shape of the summer. Will the county game be squeezed still further if The Hundred expands? And how much room will there be for Test cricket in August?

Running in parallel is the case of Hampshire, who took the plunge by selling a majority stake to India’s GMR Group, co-owners of the IPL’s Delhi Capitals; Hampshire, Durham and Northamptonshire are no longer owned by their members, while Yorkshire, too, have discussed demutualisation. But who knows what the alliance of new and old money will bring.

The economic upheaval was part of a year in which the domestic game was like a bystander at its own graduation ceremony – though Surrey may disagree after becoming the first since Yorkshire in the 1960s to win three Championship titles in a row. On the field, county cricket’s storylines were ignored by England selectors who decided they knew better: Shoaib Bashir went on a Test tour of India with a CV boasting ten expensive first-class wickets; Jamie Smith kept wicket, despite rarely doing so for his county; Josh Hull was picked for The Oval after averaging 182 with the ball for Leicestershire; Jacob Bethell batted at No.3 in New Zealand, despite a first-class average of 25. Generally, England got it right.

The temptation was to wallow in why-oh-whys about the point of the domestic game. But it reflected poorly on the Championship that Bashir – who finished his first Test year with 49 wickets – had to be loaned out by Somerset, and that Bethell had batted as high as No.4 for Warwickshire only once. If England resembled cavaliers, it was partly because the counties seemed so full of roundheads.

There is much to like about the counties’ community spirit, and their role in a fragmented society as one of Edmund Burke’s little platoons. Yet their conservatism has contributed towards The Hundred’s rise and their own marginalisation. We are heading for utopia or dystopia, depending on your view.

National service

It swung a bit, seamed a bit, persuaded the batsman to aim to leg. Then it kissed the edge, and nestled in the gloves. Jimmy Anderson’s 704th and final Test wicket might have been a distillation of the first 703, leaving an opponent guessing, and the crowd wanting more. In truth, he was fading at the highest level before he signed off against West Indies at Lord’s. But his popularity meant fans preferred to recall the good times, not his struggles in the 2023 Ashes that had signalled the beginning of the end.

Even accounting for that series, Anderson had grown old with astonishing grace. From the age of 30, he took 436 Test wickets at 24 – a total surpassed by only nine others in their entire career. From 35, he took 224 at 22, the bowling equivalent of Jack Hobbs’s 100 first-class hundreds after the age of 40. And since turning 40 himself, Anderson took 47 at 27. If he benefited from the era of central contracts, he was also a freak of nature. The first-class averages on page 438 confirm this.

Some felt he racked up the numbers simply by staying fit, but that couldn’t explain why no one else did. Others reckoned he was a one-trick pony, a Dukes specialist who needed green below and grey above – and yet no visiting seamer has taken more Test wickets in Asia than Anderson’s 92, at a respectable average of 27. He was, simply, England’s greatest bowler in their best-loved format. Had it not been for cricket’s disappearance behind a paywall early in his career, he would be a national treasure.

Things did not always go smoothly. By the end of 2007, four and a half years after his debut, his Test average was nearly 40. But he was both stubborn and studious, sticking to his basic action while tinkering on the edges: he added wobble seam and reverse swing, and embraced Bazball by agreeing to pitch it up. After helping England beat West Indies that morning at Lord’s, he downed a pint on the balcony, though it’s the rest of us who should be raising a glass. Catch him this season with Lancashire, if you can.

So what’s next?

As he chatted by the boundary on the fourth evening of the first Test at Multan, Joe Root looked spent: the heat, even as the sun set, was oppressive, the air thick with dust. Despite a string of media interviews, he found time for a natter with the local scorer, who wanted an autograph, please, plus a selfie. In the City of Saints, Root’s patience was appropriate. He had just spent the best part of 48 hours rewriting history: a signature for the man who recorded it was the least he could do.

Over the previous two days against Pakistan, Root had racked up more Test highlights than most manage in two decades. He had passed Alastair Cook’s England record of 12,472 runs; scored his 35th century, leaving Gavaskar, Lara and others in his wake; advanced to a career-best 262; added 454 with Harry Brook, the highest stand for the fourth wicket; and helped take England to 823-7, their largest total since 1938. And all from the No. 3 position he usually shuns. He was tired, all right. It was a miracle he could manage a sentence, let alone wax eloquent about his partner.

The stand with Brook, England’s first triple-centurion for 34 years, had a powerful symbolism – the master from Sheffield and his apprentice from Keighley together confirming Yorkshire’s status as the spiritual home of English batting. And, an all-wicket England record, it ousted the 411 of Peter May and Colin Cowdrey against West Indies at Edgbaston in 1957, when padplay crushed the spirit of Sonny Ramadhin. Root and Brook batted with a contemporary freedom, scoring at more than five an over and turning England’s concession of 556 into a remarkable win. Thoughts can now drift to Sachin Tendulkar’s 15,921, and immortality.

Life on the edge

At Wellington in December, Root brought up Test hundred No. 36, scooping Will O’Rourke, New Zealand’s giant fast bowler, over the wicketkeeper’s head. He rejoiced with the thrill of a first-timer, perhaps remembering the moment – ten months earlier in Rajkot – when a reverse scoop off Jasprit Bumrah was caught in the slips, and decried as the worst shot in history. Now, the same critics applauded his audacity.

And that was the thing about Bazball, at its heart an attempt to emphasise the process, not the outcome. To England’s irritation, it kept being judged after the event. Not that they always helped themselves. Rather than start a series slowly, as they so often had, they spent 2024 racing out of the blocks but stumbling over the line: in all five Test series, they won the first game; in four, they lost the last. Three of the defeats came with the series already decided, which didn’t seem to sway many: the victories over Sri Lanka and New Zealand drew as many brickbats for dead-game defeats as they did bouquets for 2-0 leads.

And that was the other thing about Bazball: it gave both sides of the argument scope for sweeping statements and pat conclusions, perfect fodder for a polarised world. There were dreamy wins in Hyderabad and Multan, nightmarish defeats in Kennington and Rawalpindi. In 2024, they veered between extremes, winning nine and losing eight, allergic to the draw. At Rajkot and Hamilton, they became only the third side in first-class history – after those other trendsetters, Matara Sports Club and Cambridge MCCU – to lose two matches in a calendar year by over 400 runs. England were raucous but not resilient, fun but fraught.

There may come a moment in Australia this winter when they need to score 500 to win, or bat a day and a half to draw. Crazily, the first scenario feels less unlikely. Their approach will be dictated by Ben Stokes, whose recent leadership was, by his own admission, as up-and-down as his team’s performances. In Pakistan, he apologised to colleagues for losing his temper, then let the game drift in the decider. By the time England arrived in New Zealand, he had cheered up, which didn’t stop him lashing out – at the World Test Championship, at over-rate regulations, at his latest hamstring injury. He sounded like a man increasingly determined to do things his way, and to hell with the consequences. Stokes intends to throw everything at Australia, including the largest group of fast bowlers England have ever taken on tour. It will be all or nothing, and we can’t say we haven’t been warned.

The definition of madness

Could England’s conviction border on hubris? Their white-ball travails seemed evidence for the prosecution. A glaring failure to defend the 50-over World Cup in India in the autumn of 2023 was bad enough; to relinquish the T20 title in the Caribbean in the summer of 2024, with much the same personnel making many of the same mistakes, was worse. England did get to the semis, but beat only one Test side. To those who had witnessed their Indian meltdown, it seemed obvious the double act of Matthew Mott and Jos Buttler was no longer working – too much theory, not enough instinct. Instead, England wasted another World Cup reaching the same conclusion. Mott had to go, and Buttler – told to cheer up by Brendon McCullum, Mott’s successor – was lucky to retain the captaincy. Managing director Rob Key has got plenty right since his appointment in 2022, but Mott stayed too long.

That’s progress for you

“We’ve got to get fitter,” admitted the coach of the England women’s team after defeat by Australia. “We’ve got to change our mindset and toughen up.” So said Mark Robinson, after his side had blown a T20 World Cup semi-final against Australia at Delhi in 2016. But in nine years – with professionalism gathering pace, The Hundred supposedly raising standards, and England’s women receiving the same match fees as the men – what had really changed? “Australia are a much more athletic team than us,” said head coach Jon Lewis in January, as England careered towards an all-format whitewash. “They’re more agile, they look faster, at times they look more powerful.” Lewis, admiringly noting Australia’s outdoor life as he strolled from Bondi to Coogee, cited a “cultural difference”. It was as if the professional era had never started.

The Ashes humiliation was not the first time England cracked under any hint of pressure. In Dubai in October, an error-strewn evening against West Indies had led to a group-stage exit in the T20 World Cup. As for the scrutiny which has accompanied their higher profile, it was a privilege they seemed reluctant to embrace. When Alex Hartley, their former spinner, questioned the players’ fitness during the World Cup, it did not go down well with her old team-mates. During the Ashes, she said one or two had given her the cold shoulder. Lewis’s admission, then, suggested she had a point – as was evident to anyone who watched them in Australia.

England had arrived determined to “inspire and entertain”, but no amount of sloganeering could make up for dropped catches, missed run-outs and ineptitude against spin. Accepting criticism will be only the first step on the road to catching up with an all-time-great Australian side. And despite New Zealand’s shock win at the T20 World Cup, the game needs England to succeed. The rankings have them second to Australia in both white-ball formats, but the gap has rarely looked bigger.

It’s an ill wind

Even as India brandished the T20 men’s World Cup after a stunning comeback in the final against South Africa at Bridgetown in late June, clouds were gathering. If only they had been metaphorical. Storm Beryl was heading in from the Atlantic, morphing into the earliest category-five hurricane in a century of meteorological records. It passed just south of Barbados, where you could still feel its fury, and left the victorious Indians temporarily stranded. By the time it had wreaked the last of its havoc on mainland USA – having devastated parts of the Windward Islands – it had caused 73 deaths, and billions of dollars of damage.

Beryl’s premature arrival, widely agreed to be a consequence of climate change, demonstrated why the ICC should have rethought their sponsorship by Saudi oil giants Aramco, whose name was all over the World Cup. As we have noted before, they are among the largest corporate contributors to greenhouse-gas emissions. In May, the ICC had announced a new four-year deal, amid grand claims about Aramco’s sustainable energy and “commitment to fostering collaboration and excellence” – little consolation for the people in Grenada or St Vincent and the Grenadines whose homes were flattened. Surely cricket can do better.

Actions speak louder

There cannot have been a more hopeful game of cricket than the one at Melbourne’s Junction Oval in late January, between exiled Afghan women and Cricket Without Borders. In Kabul, among the many diktats of the minister of vice and virtue is that women must not be heard in public. In Melbourne, they could shout as loud as they pleased. As cricket boards tied themselves in knots trying to work out whether boycotting Afghanistan’s men would persuade the Taliban to mend their misogyny, the women did what they always wanted to do, and got on with the game.

Optimism oozed not from boardrooms, but from good souls uncompromised by office. In 2021, the former Australian batter Mel Jones made use of a fortnight’s Covid quarantine to get in touch with Benafsha Hashimi, one of 19 women cricketers who had been contracted by the Afghan board before the Taliban returned. Hashimi told Jones she and her team-mates wanted to leave the country – fast. Using well-placed contacts and force of personality, Jones helped over 130 members of the Afghanistan women’s cricket community – players, families, coaches – reach Australia. She later said their experiences back home had left them “battered and bruised”, which sounded like an understatement. But they were determined to play cricket, and Jones – a hero – was there at the toss, having achieved what was beyond the administrators.

Two years ago, we encouraged the ICC to support the exiles in Australia, allowing them to set up a “home away from home”, circumvent the sadness and rediscover their humanity. That position, finally adopted by the ECB, came into sharper focus when more than 160 British MPs urged England to pull out of their Champions Trophy game against Afghanistan’s men at Lahore in February. Some cited precedent: apartheid South Africa had tired of isolation, so why wouldn’t the Taliban? But history rarely repeats itself and, with apologies to Mark Twain, it may not always rhyme: the government of FW de Klerk wanted to be part of the international community; the clerics of Kabul do not. Ostracise their male cricketers, and you deprive Afghanistan’s fans of one of their last remaining reasons to be cheerful. And while some argue the Taliban have derived political capital from the success of their men’s team, not least after they made the T20 World Cup semi-final, one or two of the team have started to speak out against the mistreatment of women. And whenever they are asked, the women cricketers oppose a boycott of the men.

The ICC should stop hiding behind the excuse that they cannot influence how the Afghanistan board spend their money, and should redirect a chunk towards the exiles. Even Amnesty International have got involved, urging the ICC to “stop ignoring” the women. The ICC insist they want to “ensure playing opportunities for both men and women”. But the ongoing uncertainty is a stain on cricket’s conscience.

Pay up, pay up, and play the game

There are few duller interviews than the captain at the toss but, in December, the nomadic South African leg-spinner Imran Tahir bucked the trend. Leading his Guyana Amazon Warriors in a Global Super League game in Georgetown, Optimism oozed not from boardrooms, but from good souls uncompromised he accused his opponents – Rangpur Riders – of not paying him in full for a stint in the Bangladesh Premier League. “I want to do really well against them,” he said. “We want to show them that Guyana welcomes them… and that we’re better humans.”

This was not some lone cry for help. The following month, the World Cricketers’ Association said 17 of the 53 global men’s and women’s leagues had come to their attention because of late or non-existent payments. Since the ICC’s position is that this falls under the jurisdiction of the host board, the WCA have called for a “fit-for-purpose enforcement mechanism, such as a global arbitration body”.

Presumably the players enter these arrangements with their eyes wide open, and Tahir’s resume is so cluttered it would be easier to name the teams he hasn’t played for. But the T20 free-for-all has produced a world in which loyalty is scarce; in the worst cases, players know an early exit from one competition may mean a fee in another. As for 53 different leagues, it’s no wonder Oxford University Press chose “brain rot” as their word of the year.

You won’t believe the year I’ve had

Shakib Al Hasan has scored nearly 15,000 runs and taken over 700 wickets for Bangladesh, but he may still be remembered as the man who had Sri Lanka’s Angelo Mathews timed out during a World Cup match in Delhi. Since then, his life has taken a complex course. In January 2024, Shakib was elected as an MP for Bangladesh’s ruling party. By August, the government were toppled, and he was among 147 named in a murder charge filed in Dhaka after the death of a political protester. His alibi was solid: he was playing cricket in Canada. In September, he announced his retirement from Tests and T20 internationals, with a caveat: he wanted a Test farewell on home turf at Mirpur against South Africa in October. But while he was en route from his new home in the USA, the Bangladesh board told him they couldn’t guarantee his safety. In November, it emerged Shakib had been reported for a suspect action during a one-off Championship appearance for Surrey. Tests in Loughborough and Chennai confirmed the umpires’ suspicion, and he was banned from bowling in international cricket – ending his hopes of taking part in the Champions Trophy. Next time a cricketer tells you they’ve had a busy year, mention Shakib.

Apples and oranges

It’s not really possible to compare the value of a hundred with a five-for, but the enterprising Tasmanian statistician Ric Finlay has had a go anyway. In early January, after Tests had finished in Sydney, Cape Town and Bulawayo, he told followers on X that he had lined up all the Test hundreds (4,521) and five-fors (3,290) in order, and reached a sort-of conclusion: scoring a hundred is the equivalent of taking four for 61, while taking a five-for is the equivalent of scoring at least 110. The fifth wicket, then, is fractionally more special than the 100th run, yet cricket witnesses few moments of exhilaration quite like bringing up a century. As long suspected, it’s a batsman’s game.

Hurrah for Bumrah

If you were lucky enough to see Jasprit Bumrah in action against Australia over the winter, you may beg to differ. He was so lethal, so uniquely challenging – a staccato of limbs somehow forming a symphony – that runs scored off him should have counted double. And while taking 32 Australian wickets at 13 each, he laid a claim to be considered the greatest of all time, becoming the first with 200 Test wickets at an average below 20. George Lohmann took 112 at ten in the late 19th century; SF Barnes 189 at 16 before the First World War. But pitches, and batting techniques, have improved beyond measure. Barring injury, Bumrah will be asking questions of England’s batsmen this summer, and many will be struggling for an answer.

Rock of ages

We all get there in the end – the chilling moment we discover that no international player was born before us. Three cheers, then, for Sally Barton, a former Christian missionary in the Congo and maths lecturer at LSE, who made her debut as wicketkeeper for Gibraltar in April 2024 – aged 66 years 334 days. She is the oldest cricketer in international history. And while she didn’t get a bat or hold a catch in her six games, she did help run out one of the Czechia openers, which is more than most of us can say. More importantly, her experience means some of us won’t be giving up hope just yet.

Double, double, toil and trouble

Wisden hasn’t yet devised a way of measuring the season’s least representative batting averages, but two names leap from this year’s pages. Louis Kimber played perhaps the innings of the summer, an incandescent 243 off 127 balls for Leicestershire against Sussex at Hove. Yet in 20 other first-class innings, he managed only 386 at an average of 21. Zak Crawley, meanwhile, hit 238 against Somerset, but in 13 others, for Kent and England, he scraped together 181 at less than 14. Kimber’s overall average was 33, Crawley’s just under 30. Statistics may be neither lies nor damned lies, but you have to be on your toes.

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