Four years ago in the Caribbean, it was said that the ICC got the World Cup it deserved.
The 2007 tournament was a bloated event, infused with a noxious blend of controversy and apathy that turned the self-proclaimed Carnival of Cricket into a six-week wake.
In Asia in 2011, however, the ICC got the World Cup that it needed, and that is not the same thing whatsoever.
By the standards set in 2007, not to mention those in South Africa in 2003 and England in 1999, the 2011 tournament was a resounding triumph.
In fact, an impromptu survey of approximately 1.2 billion people might well conclude that it was the best World Cup of all time.
Admittedly some non-Indian observers might suggest those findings had been skewed a touch, but try telling that to the jubilant masses who spilled out of the Wankhede Stadium and onto Mumbai’s Marine Drive on Saturday evening, or to anyone who shared the scenes of delirium in every street of every city, town and village of the world’s second-most populous nation.
The funny thing is, those 1.2 billion people are almost certainly right, but not necessarily for the reasons they might assume. Of the ten World Cups to have taken place since 1975, none has come close to matching the narrative and drama of the tournament just completed – not even 1992, which is commonly cited as the pundits’ pick to date.
The greatest triumph of this edition lay not in the final outcome but in the journey that was required to reach that crowning moment, for the excellence of the entertainment was not simply an illusion glimpsed in the moment of India’s victory.
This would have been a World Cup to savour, irrespective of whether Gautam Gambhir and M.S. Dhoni had managed to turn the tide of the final in their country’s favour.
All of which makes Monday’s mood-darkening decision in Mumbai so incredibly hard to countenance. The decision to slam the door shut on cricket’s Associate nations – in particular Ireland, whose role in the narrative was so fundamental – and revert to a ten-team formula in 2015, makes a mockery of the spectacle we have just been privileged to witness.
Ratnakar Shetty, the tournament director, admitted as much on the eve of the opening ceremony, when he let slip that the group-stage elimination of both India and Pakistan had torpedoed the entire event in 2007.
Every available precaution was taken to ensure against a repeat of such a financial disaster, but when England tested the rejigged format to its absolute limits by threatening a group-stage exit at the hands of Ireland and Bangladesh, the doubts crept in. At the time England’s struggles appeared to vindicate the tweaks that had been made, but at boardroom level it became clear that changing the locks alone wouldn’t be enough to guard against future intrusions. It was time to roll out the razor wire.
The fact that the ICC reached their decision a mere two days after the tournament’s conclusion suggests that there was never a decision to be reached in the first place. It was simply a matter of announcing the fait accompli.
The decision has been shocking both for its timing and its finality. A sop has been offered for 2019, but by then Associate cricket will have been stagnant for a generation.
Even George Dockrell will be in his late 20s and in all probability an England regular – why would or should he squander the prime of his career waiting? – while John Mooney, Kevin O’Brien and all the other heroes of Bangalore will have long since retired.
The wider concern is the lack of concern. The public’s initial reaction has been gratifyingly furious, but if ever there was a good day for the ICC to bury bad news, it is the Monday after India have won the World Cup, just as the IPL hype machine is beginning to grind into action. If enough righteous indignation is to be summoned to force the board into a change of heart, then a sizeable proportion of the 1.2 billion are going to have to speak out as well.
But with some justification, they are a bit preoccupied right now.
The tone of this article was never intended to be so downbeat. A remarkable event took place in Mumbai on Saturday, and quite rightly, the celebrations throughout India will resonate for weeks and months to come.
Dhoni’s decisive six in the final could yet become the most replayed shot in cricket’s long history, while no one who claims to love the game can take anything other than delight in the decisive role that Sachin Tendulkar played in his sixth and (presumably?) farewell campaign.
Moreover, the best team in the tournament emerged with the spoils, and while everyone loves an upset now and again, it’s right that class should prevail in the end.
The party that kicked off on Saturday night was something to behold.
If the purpose of sport is to fulfil a utilitarian brief of conferring the greatest pleasure for the greatest number, then the 2011 World Cup hit the spot like no other event in history.
Sadly, however, there is so much more to it than that.
Any sports fan with a moral compass, even one whose every wish has been granted this past week, will recognise that the tournament’s true conclusion was signed and sealed not in the Wankhede Stadium, but in a Mumbai board-room, two days after the main event.
• Andrew Miller is UK editor of ESPNcricinfo.
