The Leather Jacket and beyond: The tale of the first officially proven fixed international cricket match

Hansie Cronje

The term match-fixing is known to everyone in world cricket today. The recent fixing scandal in the Indian Premier League (IPL) brought to light rampant malpractices that, unfortunately, are deeply rooted into the game of cricket. It is extremely ironic that the dark tales were all unravelled during a league that was set-up to ensure players are paid more handsomely than even heard of earlier.

Indeed, greed knows no limit. Enough is never enough. For most people in the world, merely representing the country is a matter of utmost pride. And it is only obvious that anger is bound to seep in when the elite few who get a chance to do so are more interested in making money dishonestly than grinding it out on the field.

But have you ever stopped to think how and when did this begin? The answers to these questions are not even half as harrowing than the fact that all it needed was a mere $5,000 and a leather jacket to buy the integrity and honour of a legend. To put things into perspective, the lowest base price in the inaugural IPL was $1,00,000: 20 times more than what Hansie Cronje, hailed as one of the shrewdest captains ever, took to throw the match a decade ago. Account for as much inflation that you want, the harsh truth is that honesty was sold cheap the day the first recorded confession of match-fixing came to light, more than a century after the first ball in international cricket was bowled.

The Scenario

England were on a tour to South Africa for a 5-match Test series in 1999-00. In to the 5th Test match of the series, which had already been sealed 2-0 in favour to the home team, England, choosing to bowl on an overcast day at the SuperSport Park, Centurion, had the hosts on the ropes at 155/6 in 45 overs before rain stopped play.

The unseasonal rains led to a loss to the tune of 2 million rand, as the ground had not been appropriately insured.

Minutes before the start of play on the fifth day, it became public knowledge that Cronje had approached Hussain with a proposal to “make a game out of it”. The original offer was that his team be allowed to score a hundred runs in the first session and that England would be presented with a target of 270 in 73 overs (rain meant it was more than a 90 over day).

It was only natural that Hussain refused. "The wicket might have been sweating under those covers for three days. It might have been unplayable. I couldn't take that chance," he said after the match. However, seeing the pitch play beautifully on a sunny day ten overs into the first session, Hussain began to have second thoughts. And these escalated exponentially when it became clear that Darren Gough had a terrible hangover from the previous night.

“I have never walked on to a cricket field in such a disgraceful, self-induced state of disrepair as I was that last morning in Pretoria,” Gough wrote in his autobiography. “I had already thrown up in the dressing room and I felt so bad I wasn't sure whether I had a hangover or was still drunk.”

“He bowled like a pile of shit,” recalled Hussain. The disciplinarian that he was, he kept Gough on for 10 consecutive overs to teach him a lesson for a lifetime.

In any case, Hussain had decided it was time to renegotiate with the Proteas captain.

The most basic trick in the book started off proceedings. Hussain, after telling the umpire that the nature had come calling, went inside the dressing room where he met Cronje to enquire if the offer still stands.

Assuming Cronje made the initial offer of 255 in 73 on the belief that it would be a minefield to bat on, the revised offer of 245 in 76 overs should have raised a few suspicions seeing the pitch behave so well.

"I deliberately aimed low at first and said, 'How about us chasing 250?'," he recalled. "Hansie just said, 'Fine'. I couldn't believe it. No haggling. No banter. No bartering, No mention of how many overs we would face. It was like that scene from Life of Brian when the salesman is all indignant because the guy has simply paid his first asking price without any argument."

However, match-fixing was almost unheralded of back then, and so Hussain took the revised offer with both hands.

The question of viability then came to the fore. The chairman of the England Management Advisory Committee, Brian Bolus, rightfully pointed out that – although it was not exactly within the Laws to do so – it had happened in First-Class cricket earlier. As coincidence would have it, a draft of the new Code of the Laws slated to take effect later in the year would allow first-innings forfeitures. So, Cronje and Hussain had done nothing more than using a time-machine.

It became official then. Two innings of the match – England’s first and South Africa’s second – had been forfeited, and the visitors needed to chase down 249 for victory, something they managed to do with two wickets in hand and 5 balls to spare, much to the delight of everyone present that morning who had come with the belief they would be witnessing a dead rubber.

The Praise

There was no shortage of praise bestowed on Cronje for his revolutionary decision, starting from his opposite captain.

"It was a very special thing that Hansie did and I hope he gets the credit he deserves. It certainly was a great finish to be a part of," he said after the match.

The Daily Telegraph described this as "the golden age of the game".

Bob Woolmer, the then South African coach was of the opinion that "Hansie did the game the biggest favour imaginable at the dawn of the new century”.

"It may be thought of as a way of manufacturing a result, but examination of the law explains that they did what was allowed," stated Arjuna Ranatunga, known for making eccentric decisions himself. "You cannot fault anyone who adopts a positive response to conditions which created a result."

The Flak

It was rumoured that the ICC was not particularly happy about the way the game went about. Purists argued that the act was not within the "spirit of the code of Test conduct”.

To this, a defiant Cronje even threatened to quit from International cricket. “I heard a few whispers that some important people are unhappy about what I did today. If that's the case, I want to get out of the game. As Test cricketers we have a duty to entertain and get full houses and this was far better than seeing spectators sitting there with long faces," he said at the post-match conference.

Ironically, four months later, he was forced to do what he had threatened: quit. But instead of bowing out as The Great Samaritan, he was kicked out the biggest traitor the small world of cricket would ever see.

Cronje in tears while admitting to his mistake

The darkness of the never-ending tunnel

Unfortunately for Cronje, it did not take more than four months to turn from valiant to villain. When South Africa subsequently toured India, the Delhi police charged Cronje for fixing South Africa's ODIs against India, on 7 April 2000. Cronje shamelessly refuted these, with the South African board, media and former players supporting him through and through.

The press release from the South African Board stated: “South African captain Hansie Cronje is a man of enormous integrity and honesty. He and his team-mates Nicky Boje, Herschelle Gibbs and Pieter Strydom are emphatic that there is no substance to allegations that they were involved in match fixing during the One-Day International series in India. The UCBSA believes that these players have not been involved in the practice of match fixing.”

Cronje himself uttered hollow words of righteousness, "I have been informed by the UCB of the statements that have been made in the media and I am stunned. The allegations are completely without substance. I have been privileged to play for South Africa since 1992 and I want to ensure every South African that I have made a hundred percent effort to win every match that I have played. It has been an honour to play for South Africa and I would never do anything to let my country down."

Four days later, Cronje finally admitted to being a fraud and crook, to Ali Bacher, the managing director of the Board, and was promptly sacked. It went on record that the most famous Test in a long, long time was nothing more than a cheap trick played by Cronje to fulfil his personal greed and the beginning of the darkest chapter cricket would ever see.

It served Cronje right that he did not get the $1,50,000 as promised by the bookmaker who claimed that he did not get enough bets. Instead, all he got was $5,000 and a leather jacket as a token of good faith and a promise for information in the future. Had Cronje ended the matter then and there, maybe destiny would have had another course in mind; however, as they say, greed is never fulfilled.

What started as something to ensure a draw would not take place ended in Cronje now asking his fellow players to now throw matches for him.

What Followed

Cronje was banned for life. Gibbs and Williams, both of whom agreed to underperform in a match, were banned for 6 months; the former had a change of heart and blasted 74 off merely 53 deliveries, while Williams got injured and was unable to complete his quota of overs after just 11 deliveries.

Mohammad Azharuddin, Manoj Prabhakar, AjayJadeja and Ajay Sharma were banned by the ICC for their involvement in the fixing scandal.

Furthermore, deeper probes revealed Saleem Malik and Ata-ur-Rehman were involved in fixing matches, as well. Malik became the first cricketer to get jailed for the offence.

Cronje did not meet a similar fate, as he was offered immunity from criminal prosecution if he came out with the truth. However, his life met an untimely end on June 1, 2002, when he was involved in a plane crash at the tender age of 32.

In a typical Bollywood fashion, the Delhi police filed a chargesheet in 2013, 13 years after the event took place and 11 years after Cronje’s death naming him as the only cricketer involved along with several bookies.

Closure

Touted as one of the best captains ever, had Cronje not stepped on muddy waters, nothing would have stopped him from entering all kinds of cricketing folklore. It sparked off numerous other instances of match-fixing, and cricket has hardly been looked at with the same respect ever since.

No words are better to sum this up than Cronje’s own, "My great passion for the game and for my team-mates was matched by an unfortunate love of money”. One can only hope he has set an example for others to learn how tragic life can be if the script is altered.