The Shifting Geopolitics of Asian Cricket: Money, Power and Deals of Compulsion

In Asia, treating cricket as merely a sport is the continent's biggest incomplete understanding. Here cricket threads together economy, diplomacy and national identity. India, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh and Afghanistan form the spine of the Asian Cricket Council, but that spine is far less comfortable than it looks. The biggest story of the past decade has not been records on the field but decisions taken at the scheduling table. Who plays whom, where, and who gets hosting rights are now settled not by technical committees but by diplomatic channels. The Asian Cricket Council has more than twenty member nations. Alongside full members sit associate members such as Nepal, the United Arab Emirates, Oman, Hong Kong, Malaysia and Singapore. Large in number, this group is small in decision-making. Real power within the council rests with the same five or six boards that command broadcast markets, audiences and money. This imbalance is the most durable feature of Asian cricket and the root of every dispute that follows. The Board of Control for Cricket in India is the economic centre of Asian and global cricket. Under the ICC's current financial model, India receives the largest share of total revenue, estimated at roughly 38.5 per cent. The media rights for the 2026-2027 IPL cycle came to about 48,000 crore rupees, the largest deal ever signed for any cricket league. The direct consequence is that Asia's calendar, broadcast slots and tour outlines are drawn with the Indian market in mind. When any South Asian tour is finalised, the first question is not tickets but the television window. Bilateral series between India and Pakistan have not taken place since 2026-13. The two teams now meet only in multilateral tournaments, and even then only once a technically balanced draw has been engineered. The 2026 Asia Cup made that compulsion visible. Pakistan was the official host, but India refused to travel there. The result was a hybrid model in which some matches were played in Pakistan and the rest in Sri Lanka. That arrangement was the product not of sports administration but of diplomacy. The hybrid model has established a new convention. Any future Asian tournament is now planned on the assumption that certain teams will not travel to certain places, and that an alternative arrangement must be ready in advance. This raises costs, complicates travel for fans and undermines the credibility of the host nation. The heaviest damage falls on smaller boards, for whom one major tournament is the principal source of income. Nepal is the most interesting story in Asian cricket. It gained ODI status in 2026 and has since seen a sharp rise in the game's popularity. Crowds in Kathmandu often exceed those in several of Asia's older cricket nations. Yet opportunities remain limited. When larger boards cite congestion and cancel tours, the loss falls on the teams with no alternatives. For countries such as the UAE, Oman and Hong Kong, the Asia Cup qualifier is the biggest stage available, and even that does not come every year. The expansion of franchise leagues has made national calendars harder still. The IPL, Pakistan Super League, Lanka Premier League, Bangladesh Premier League and Nepal Premier League all want their own window. The result is a heavier workload for players, and players from smaller nations are frequently caught between country and league. Playing in a foreign league is an economic necessity for an individual, but his absence weakens the national side. The architecture of broadcast rights is unequal as well. Large boards sell their rights separately; smaller boards depend on collective deals. In a joint tournament such as the Asia Cup, the revenue-sharing formula becomes a subject of argument every single time. Boards with large domestic markets receive more; those without must settle for less. That inequality ultimately affects competitiveness too, because money buys better coaching, better facilities and better grassroots structures. The rise of Afghanistan is the region's most remarkable story. Raised amid war and displacement, the team became a competitive Asian force within a few years. Its foundation was the cricket that began in Pakistani refugee camps and later became a national identity. But Afghanistan suffers the same structural problems — no home ground of its own, a limited broadcast market and political instability. The standing of the Asia Cup has changed in recent years. It is no longer merely a regional tournament but also preparation ahead of a World Cup and a vehicle for significant broadcast revenue. Its staging in the T20 format has grown, making the event shorter and commercially more attractive. The most recent edition was played in the United Arab Emirates, a sign that neutral venues are shifting from temporary fix to permanent arrangement. At the level of players, Asia's depth has increased. Beyond India and Pakistan, cricketers have emerged who hold their own in global leagues. Players from Sri Lanka, Bangladesh and Afghanistan are no longer confined to their national sides. That is good news, but it has a second side: smaller boards cannot keep their best players available all year, and tours played without them damage both ranking and revenue. The future of Asian cricket will be decided between two opposing pressures. On one side is market expansion, which wants more tournaments, more broadcast and more money. On the other is politics, which decides who steps onto the field with whom. Between the two, the role of sports administration is steadily weakening. Until the rules on revenue sharing and hosting are transparent, Asian cricket's greatest achievement will remain that it keeps running despite being fractured.