It is
an uncomfortable -- but wholly rational -- truth that corruption in cricket,
and any sport for that matter, will never be wiped out. Why? Because we are
human. In an Indian Cricket League match or English county 40-over clash, 22
men will take to the field. It only takes one to be a bad apple.
Over the last few days, the leaked testimonies, claims and
counter-claims would have you believe there is more than just one bad apple. A
cartload? An orchard? It is impossible to put a number on it, although during
my investigations spanning almost five years I've heard the names of
approaching 50 taken in vain.
But to really begin to understand how rotten cricket is, or could be, it is
important to appreciate the anatomy of match-fixing. How, exactly, does it
work?
In Lou Vincent's example, he has the perfect personality traits
to be considered vulnerable: a troubled man with money worries parachuting in
and out of foreign lands to ply his trade in the twilight of his career.
His
story, according to the outpouring noted down by anti-corruption investigators,
is another stereotype. From being approached to carrying out the fix to
receiving the money, it is almost the classic modus operandi which players have
been warned about in countless anti-corruption tutorials.
In the beginning, Vincent was a sitting duck. His battle with
depression and alcohol alerted unscrupulous sorts who saw an opportunity to
manipulate a human being for monetary gain. This ability by corruptors to hone
in on the weak is disturbing. They search for any flaw, and fixers or bookies
have been known to search social network sites for any chink in the armour.
Reading Vincent's testimony, it is clear the fixers tested him
out. He was offered praise, sex, gifts and, finally, money. Often a corruptor
will invite a player to his hotel room and just say "here's $20,000, take
it, go and have a good time, it's because I like you as a player".
One
former fixer in India told me he had seen this on countless occasions and never
had he seen a player turn it down. They were hooked.
What follows is usually something more subtle, although in
Vincent's case he appears to have begun fixing relatively quickly.
The fixers will test a player out with small requests for
information with big rewards. Then they will ask for something seemingly
irrelevant in a game, to check their mettle.
If those tests have been passed, they will turn up the heat. You
owe us now. A batsman will be pressured into batting slowly in a one-day match
or a bowler will be asked to go for a certain amount of runs in a certain
amount of overs. The spot-fix.
The devil is in the detail with the spot-fix. Vincent claimed he
was ordered to crawl along at the crease for three-over segments. He told the
henchmen that a fix would be on by changing the colour of his bat handle,
stepping away when a bowler was running in or wearing a particular coloured
sweat band. Black, fittingly, most of the time.
Crucially, this was to allow time for the fixer to place his
bets on the vast and unregulated Indian betting system. It is a myth that you
can wager on weird and wonderful outcomes in India. Bets are restricted to four
markets only -- the match odds, innings runs, session runs and who will be the
favourite at the innings break.
It is the session market -- also known as the bracket -- which
Vincent would have been attempting to manipulate. With inside information of
what Vincent had agreed to do, the fixers would have been able to make huge
sums in exactly the same way that an insider trader would on a stock market.
Bookmakers
offer a runs quote for the session market -- say 65-66 in the first 10 overs of
a 50-over game. That quote will change after every ball, going up or down
relative to how the run rate is progressing. If you know what is going to
happen, riches are almost guaranteed. If a bowler has been nobbled by a fixer,
the same method is applied.
Such minute manipulation is almost impossible to prove and it is
why the smart cricketers who indulge will never stray from such a specialism.
How does an anti-corruption unit prove, beyond doubt, that a batsman or bowler
has deliberately underperformed for what could amount to only six deliveries?
Rarely is there a money trail. Corrupt players are paid in soft
assets. There have been cases of speedboats being the bounty or, as the
infamous player X revealed to Black Caps skipper Brendon McCullum, Dubai
property. When such money is brought back into a country following a sale, it
is easier for a player to claim it as profit of his wheeling and dealing.
If a player is paid in cash, and Vincent says he was, then the
hawala system will be used. The hawala system is glued by trust. Money is
transferred via a network of hawala brokers, often family members, or
hawaladars. But the money does not, in fact, go anywhere, either physically or
electronically, and the system can be defined by the term: money transfer
without money movement.
A customer will approach a hawala broker in one city and give a
sum of money to be transferred to a recipient in another city. The hawala
broker calls another hawala broker in the recipient's city, gives instructions
of the funds and promises to settle the debt at a later date. All parties are
given a code or password and at the start and end of the process.
It is understood that Vincent was told to give the serial number
of a $20 note to his bookmaker, who would then pass this on to the broker. When
Vincent met up with him, he would repeat the serial number and also undergo a
voice recognition test.
So far, so simple.
The problem comes when players or fixers get greedy. They try to
spread their net and catch more players. They want bigger returns so they
attempt to rig a whole match.
Undoubtedly, this is what has led to Vincent being charged by
the ECB. It is probable that there are many, many cricketers who are not that
stupid.
Alas, the apple does not fall that far from the tree.
This article was first published in the New Zealand Herald on May 24
