Business as usual for ICC, in a parallel universe

EVERYTHING in the United Arab Emirates is just that much bigger than elsewhere; from the highways to the buildings and the economy.

You thought Americans could do wide highways?

The one between Dubai and Abu Dhabi expands to a whopping nine lanes at its widest — each way — but never drops below four lanes.

The locals may have become used to it by now but, for visitors to the emirate of Dubai, the sight of the Burj Khalifa is a constant neck-twister.

The sky is so often filled with fine, powdery dust from the frequent sandstorms, that the tip of the world’s tallest building can be difficult to pinpoint — because that’s what it is; a pinpoint.

The 828m tall building retains its chrome-like brilliance in all conditions, though, and causes a constant sense of wonder. If the locals have grown used to it by now, they are still very much in the minority. That is because a mere 13% of the population is “local” — as in Emirati. The other 87% are expatriates — the “workers”, so to speak.

The majority of the manual labourers come from Pakistan and Bangladesh, which on one level makes the country a natural “second home” for Pakistan’s national team while they are unable to play in their real home country.

Problem is, the men who staff the millions of square metres of building sites and new highway projects are too busy and poor to even contemplate attending a day of Test cricket. Entrance may be free, but they still have to make it to and from the stadium.

The higher up the “qualification ladder” you climb, the more varied the workforce becomes. At the Proteas’ fivestar, deluxe hotel in Abu Dhabi, the immaculately trained staff come from countries as far away and as diverse as Sweden, Turkey and Croatia. Much like the airline, the actual Emirates enjoy projecting their image and reputation as the most cosmopolitan of forwardthinking nations.

The International Cricket Council (ICC) is among many international business federations and sports bodies to have based themselves in Dubai. Tax is a dirty word in this country and is rarely spoken of, let alone applied, but there are other good reasons for the game’s governing body to base itself here. Emirates (the airline) is the game’s national carrier and the city has become something of a cricketing hub between continents.

The ICC’s centre of excellence went so far as to import soil from India and Australia in order to replicate playing surfaces from those countries, and the overall facilities may be paralleled elsewhere but are not surpassed.

The ICC’s staff members are drawn from all over the world and headed, of course, by a South African — CE David Richardson.

There is a great deal to administer in six divisions of the World League and global events in all three formats — the inaugural Test Championship was launched on Saturday night. They work hard and do not deserve the dismissive disdain with which they are often treated.

But like almost all the expats in this country, they know they are living in a parallel and false universe.

Behind every water feature there is barren desert. Behind the line of palm trees, carefully sustained by water drawn and desalinated from the ocean, there is more desert.

The reality for Richardson and his staff is that, effectively, they have been appointed managers of a private, gentleman’s club. They can oversee the rules and regulations of the club. Theoretically, they can even forcibly apply them. But what then? Take the case of the Board of Control for Cricket in India’s treatment of Cricket SA and the contentious end-of-year tour.

“The Indian Board is technically in breach of contract and we could throw the book at them,” one ICC employee told me. “But they’ll just throw it straight back at us and, with England and Australia falling into line with whatever India wants, we haven’t got a chance.”

The more things change, the more they stay the same.