Honour in hindsight only

Is UK sport only capable of scorning shady benefactors after taking their money?

When Sir Allen Stanford offered to inject millions of pounds into the world of cricket, administrators nearly bit his hand off.

He has since been accused of fraud, and although at the time Stanford appeared every inch the philanthropic enthusiast, we are left wondering if sporting authorities really think twice about accepting money from even the most undesirable of suitors.

The ECB moved swiftly to cut ties with the financier, cancelling a raft of Stanford-sponsored Twenty20 competitions. Apparently, given his respectable image, the ECB had no reason to be initially suspicious of this brash billionaire, with his crates of cash and unexplainable penchant for a punchy new cricket format.

Even though the England cricket team missed out on $20m when they lost to Stanford’s SuperStars in a crass exhibition match last year, the ECB was still able to pass £50,000 on to each county before severing their deal with the dashing Texan. It seems doubtful that there was much scrutiny at the arrangement’s inception; when was the last time British sport looked a gift horse in the mouth, no matter how obviously odious its flatulence?

When was the last time British sport looked a gift horse in the mouth?

Cast your minds back to 2007, and Manchester City’s original megabucks revolution led by Thaksin Shinawatra. While City’s current regime is said to be using their wealth to boost the brand of Abu Dhabi, the former Prime Minister of Thailand’s PR aims were more sinister as he attempted to shake off the unseemly tag of “human rights abuser of the worst kind”, assigned to him by Human Rights Watch.

At the time, the Premier League assured us that their rules on ownership went “above and beyond any requirement by company law and are some of the sternest in any UK industry”. If these stringent requirements were met by a character like Shinawatra, it is difficult to anticipate who could possibly fail; Stanford would have passed with flying colours.

Given a choice between good intentions and bad money, sport is consistently drawn to the dark side

After selling Manchester City in September of last year, Shinawatra’s UK visa was cancelled in November. He has not returned to Thailand, having been sentenced in absentia to two years in prison for multi-million-pound corruption, and this month City finally deigned to dismiss him from the role of honorary club president. There are now few loose ends, with Shinawatra as good as erased from the club’s records; however, high-profile players such as Elano, bought with his funds, remain a source of pride for the Manchester side.

Conversely, consider the vitriol levelled at Mike Ashley, the roly-poly Newcastle owner whose greatest crime was to dive into the club so enthusiastically that, having not performed due diligence, he was forced to deploy capital to combat debts rather than secure new talent. Given a choice between good intentions and bad money, sport is consistently drawn to the dark side.

In the Premier League, almost every team is either actively seeking, or the subject of, some wealthy wag’s attentions, and the background of their bank accounts is far less important than their willingness to pay big wages and bigger transfer fees. This is a division that recently sold its television rights for over £1bn in the midst of global financial meltdown; when morals are no concern, the relative paupers of cricket and rugby are unlikely to deny dubious investment.

Cricket and rugby are unlikely to deny dubious investment

Some embrace this deification of the dollar. The world of Formula 1 is unabashed in its excess, with a commitment to sponsorship that renders paintwork choices irrelevant as cars’ original hues become lost beneath a sea of corporate logos. An ever-shifting set of races has proven that if a venue has the cash, it can have the flashiness of F1 racing; sports such as football and cricket merely maintain the pretence of principles.

Honourable organisations would have laughed Stanford and Shinawatra out the door, but sadly the two were reproached only after money had changed hands. The worst may be yet to come: in austere times, desperation may drive even more sporting bodies into deals with the devil.

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