Black Wednesday

Wanted: buyer for a soul of a national game - well-worn, slightly scarred by recent moral ambivalence but otherwise in good condition. Will deal with all parties, no questions asked. No need for the best interests of the national game at heart.

Twenty milion pounds is enough to offset the loss of 80% of the UK's last remaining terrestrial cricket coverage, the crown jewels of British summer sport, the home Test series. Forty million viewers left with nothing more than evening highlights on a channel that half the country can't receive in the first place - each person sold off for the price of a single ICC-approved chocolate bar.

Terrestrial TV has lost six summer Test matches, five days' play, eight hours' coverage a day - 240 hours of cricket broadcasting. No longer will schoolchildren be able to stumble upon the national side's progress and be captivated, nor be entranced by a great passage of play, nor cultivate their love for the game as deliveries, overs and sessions meander by, the tactical nuances and moments of inspiration imprinting themselves on their minds.

It's not just the younger fans - the future of the game - that we alienate in the chase of the Murdoch dollar, but the passive or casual supporters who make up the vast majority of the game's supporter base in this country. Very, very few people will value the coverage highly enough to become Sky subscribers - they just won't watch. Cricket is not a game that creates diehard fans in the way that football does, but it immerses itself in the consciousness of the majority.

The greatest moments of British sport have been shared by millions because of terrestrial coverage. The 1966 Football World Cup, the Rugby Union in 2003, Torvill and Dean in Sarajevo '84, The Hockey Gold in Seoul '88, The Dennis Taylor-Steve Davis Snooker Final in '85, Botham's Match at Headingley '81. All hold a special lustre as they were watched by tens of millions, many of whom were hardly fans of the sport but drawn in by the drama and suspense of the occasions.

From the many first-time and casual fans, a small but significant percentage of themselves and their offspring will be captivated. A single moment, an instant of genius - something happens inside that converts an as-yet sporting agnostic to a devout believer. Cricket is drastically narrowing its pyramid at a time when the exploits of Vaughan, Flintoff and Harmison to name but three had begun to widen it once more. For the first time in a generation, the game's stock was rising in playgrounds nationwide.

Now, we are left with twenty million pounds but also with a chasmic hole torn out of the body of a national game barely recovered from intensive care. We may find some extra funding at grass roots level for new kit and facilities, but I'd rather coach twenty kids in a schoolyard with a tennis ball and a litter bin for a wicket, than coach three with a bowling machine.

This is a call to arms for those of us who believe in the greater good of the national game, those of us who have stood in our back gardens and chalked three stumps onto a wall and imagined they were Larwood, Bedser, Trueman, Willis, Gough or Harmison, those of us who have hit their grandad out of the ground for a straight six to win back the Ashes. It's never too late to make a difference.

Posted by Neil