Cricket's governance crisis: The handshake row that shook the game

As the Pakistan Cricket Board (PCB) and the International Cricket Council (ICC) lock horns, reputation, money and credibility hang by a thread.

Ever heard of a match referee getting famous? Ask Andy Pycroft. A week into the handshake controversy, he has become the man both boards can’t stop talking about. One referee, two boards, and an ego clash that has turned a simple post-match courtesy into a full-blown cricket soap opera.

On one side is the PCB, headed by Mohsin Naqvi — who also moonlights as the Asian Cricket Council (ACC) chief. On the other side is the ICC, steered by Jay Shah. The two boards, two egos, one standoff. At stake? Control, narrative, and, oddly enough, the dignity of a handshake.

The PCB has been relentless in its pursuit of Pycroft’s removal. They’ve lobbied, they’ve complained, and they’ve even gone as far as secretly filming him in a closed-door meeting — a plotline worthy of a Netflix political thriller. Yet, the ICC hasn’t blinked. Shah’s camp has stood firm, refusing to let the referee be sacrificed at the altar of Pakistan’s outrage. The result is a stand-off where neither side wants to look weak, and Pycroft’s name headlines cricket’s daily bulletin.

Caught in this tug-of-war, the PCB has found itself answering questions it would rather avoid. Or rather, not answering them. Their decision to cancel the pre-match press conference ahead of Sunday’s clash with India was telling. No journalists, no gawky questions about spy cameras. No uncomfortable queries about why Pycroft’s complaint was overruled. Silence became strategy.

But the optics? Brutal. Instead of projecting authority, the PCB looks like a board ducking bouncers, unwilling to face the music. In cricket, you can leave a tough delivery outside off stump. In press rooms, leaving every delivery looks like surrender.

Meanwhile, Pycroft’s rise to fame continues. For a man whose job is usually confined to paperwork, coin tosses, and ensuring matches run to schedule, this is uncharted territory. Referees are meant to fade into the background. But here he is, the eye of a storm, the most-talked-about figure in world cricket this week. Ironically, by trying to get him removed, the PCB has only made him more prominent.

The PCB have even threatened withdrawal and then eventually turned up late to play — not because of a bus breakdown, but after what looked suspiciously like a profit-and-loss balance sheet review. In today’s cricket, ideology takes the back seat, while revenue drives the team bus.

The bigger picture, though, is less about Pycroft and more about the boards. The PCB vs ICC duel is a reminder of cricket’s fractured power structure — one board flexing its ACC title, the other its ICC mandate. And in between, players, fans, and yes, referees, get dragged into battles that have little to do with the game itself.

Sunday’s India-Pakistan clash may decide who wins points on the field. Off it, the scoreboard already reads like this: ICC – unflinching; PCB – dodging questions; Pycroft – accidental celebrity.

For the PBC, to say anything that could bring disrepute to the ICC is like walking on quicksand. One wrong step, and they risk sinking into a mess that could cost them 12 million dollars or more. In this game, words are as risky as shots on a turning track — and the ICC is leaving every delivery well alone.