On the fourth day of the third Test between New Zealand and West Indies at Mount Maunganui in December, the game momentarily shed its polished, television-friendly veneer and returned to its most democratic roots. Spectators in the stands held up hand-written placards offering pitch reports of their own, a mix of satire and sharp observation, delivered with humour and honesty.
What followed was one of the most spontaneous and endearing moments seen on a cricket broadcast in years. A small group of fans were invited pitchside, handed a microphone, and asked to analyse the day’s play. With no scripts, no jargon and no filter, they spoke like true lovers of the game – reacting to conditions, performances and momentum with the kind of insight that usually echoes only in the stands or over a cold drink.
For a brief while, the boundary between players, pundits and supporters disappeared, reminding everyone that at its heart, cricket belongs as much to the people watching as to those playing in the middle.
Now try doing that in India.
You can’t. And not because Indian fans lack imagination or love for the game, but because the system around them leaves little room for such freedom. Spectators are tightly managed, closely restricted and firmly disciplined.
You would likely be stopped at the gate for carrying a piece of cardboard.
This is the great contradiction of Indian cricket today. The game is swimming in money, trophies and power. Yet the fans who bankroll this empire, filling stadiums, driving television ratings and showing up year after year, are treated as an afterthought. Their presence is tolerated, not valued.
A BOARD SWIMMING IN SUCCESS
The Indian cricket board’s coffers swelled by nearly Rs 3,500 crore in the 2024-25 financial year, according to Cricbuzz. Despite losing its title sponsor, Dream11, after the fantasy sports platform shut down a majority of its operations following the government’s ban on real-money gaming apps, the BCCI continued its upward revenue trajectory, attributing the growth to what it described as “healthy financial management and strong revenue streams.”
On the field, Indian cricket enjoyed a year of undeniable success. In June 2024, Rohit Sharma’s team won the T20 World Cup, ending an 11-year wait for an ICC title. Early in 2025, India went on to lift the Champions Trophy, again under Rohit’s captaincy. The women’s team had a watershed moment when Harmanpreet Kaur and her team lifted the Women’s World Cup title in Navi Mumbai in November.
The steady success has translated into staggering valuations. In June 2022, the BCCI sold IPL media rights for close to Rs 50,000 crore over five years, a deal that redefined the economics of the sport.
In short, as the cricket-watching audience grows in India and across the world, the BCCI’s coffers continue to swell. And yet, beneath the trophies and balance sheets, there is a simmering anger among the fans who form the backbone of this financial ecosystem.
Those willing to spend significant sums to watch matches live increasingly feel short-changed. Several ardent followers told India Today that almost every stadium visit ended with the same promise to themselves: never again. And yet, driven by loyalty and love for the game, they kept returning.
That loyalty, many believe, has been taken for granted.
WHERE THE DISCONNECT BEGINS
The year 2025 did little to alter that perception. For fans inside stadiums and those watching from home, matchdays continued to be shaped by inconvenience, indifference and avoidable discomfort rather than any meaningful improvement in experience.
Their complaints from fans ranged from the most basic necessities, such as access to drinking water and clean washrooms, to deeper concerns around safety, dignity and discriminatory behaviour inside stadiums.
“I just hope that one day I can watch a match in India without worrying about my life and health,” Nishtha Kanal, who has been attending matches since 2003, said.
“The attitude seems to be that just watching our heroes play is a privilege enough,” another fan added. “We’re expected to put up with sub-human conditions before, during and after the game.”
THE SHAME OF BASIC AMENITIES
The most common grievance raised was the state of the washrooms across Indian stadiums. Toilets in many venues are poorly maintained, emit unbearable stench and are so few in number that long queues are inevitable.
These accounts, it must be noted, came largely from male spectators.
Women fans painted an even bleaker picture. Experiences in stadiums in Mumbai and Delhi were described as abysmal, with hygiene and safety emerging as serious concerns.
There has been some improvement in recent years. Fans who visited the Arun Jaitley Stadium after the 2023 ODI World Cup acknowledged better conditions. But such changes remain isolated, dependent on events rather than embedded as policy.
WATER AS A LUXURY
When the BCCI offered free drinking water during the 2023 ODI World Cup, it was projected as a landmark initiative. That it took decades for such a basic provision to be implemented says as much about fan welfare as the celebration around it.
The problem persists. During the India vs New Zealand Test in Pune in 2024, spectators were left gasping for water after vendors sold 100 ml for Rs 80. By that measure, a one-litre bottle effectively costs Rs 800.
The Maharashtra Cricket Association later issued a public apology.
The BCCI has since promised free drinking water for ticket-holders. But fans say reality on the ground remains grim. Water dispensers are few, queues are long and availability is erratic, turning what should be a right into an ordeal.
PAY MORE, SEE LESS
Concerns around matchday experience broadly fall into two categories. The first is viewing. Fans in Delhi and Cuttack told India Today that large iron grills and poorly designed enclosures obstruct sightlines, making it difficult to properly watch the game even from paid seats.
The second is food.
For families committing eight to ten hours at a stadium, food becomes a necessity over such long hours. Yet selling a samosa for Rs 150 that cost a fraction outside feels less like pricing and more like extraction.
There is no alternative. Outside food is prohibited. Re-entry is not permitted. Once a spectator steps out, even temporarily, the ticket becomes void.
“It is unacceptable for the richest sports board in the country to operate like this,” a fan said. “Watching sport live is meant to be a shared experience. Right now, it feels punitive.”
DIGITAL INDIA, PAPER TICKETS
Amid all this, perhaps the most baffling failure is ticketing. Firstly, tickets for even major events are not announced on time. For example, tickets for the 2023 ODI World Cup were available to the public only 41 days before the first match.
Even if you manage to get hold of tickets, you might not be assured of a seamless experience. Fans purchase tickets online, receive QR codes and confirmations, yet are still required to queue outside stadiums to collect physical tickets.
Supporters questioned why simple turnstile-based QR entry systems, standard across global sporting venues, have not been implemented. The irony is that the BCCI has shown it can be done. QR-based entry was successfully used at the Arun Jaitley Stadium during the 2025 Women’s Premier League.
Why this has not been scaled remains unanswered.
POWER WITHOUT DIGNITY
Among the most disturbing accounts were stories of fans being mistreated in their own country.
No one expects a red-carpet welcome to an event they paid for. But expecting basic dignity is hardly unreasonable.
Two incidents, separated by a decade, underline a troubling continuity in how power is exercised at stadium gates.
Sachin Tendulkar’s final Test, Chennai (2013)
“In Sachin’s last Test match against Australia, security stopped a friend from entering the stadium because he was wearing a black T-shirt. Black equals protest, we were told. The irony was that the T-shirt had Sachin’s iconic century celebration printed on it.”
ODI World Cup, India vs New Zealand, Mumbai (2023)
“It boils my blood when rules are enforced selectively. Three of us were carrying binoculars because our seats were far from the field. The police forced us to discard them. Later, we saw foreign spectators using binoculars and telephoto lenses without any issue.”
The rules were not the problem. Selective enforcement was.
WHEN CONTROL REPLACES CARE
The apathy towards spectators is now so ingrained that fans do not even expect the kind of comforts they routinely experience abroad.
In the United Kingdom and Australia, stadiums offer spaces where spectators can step away from their seats, eat, rest and return. The matchday experience is designed around people, not just broadcasting schedules.
How often have you seen fans overseas enjoying a poolside view at cricket venues or spreading out for picnic-like afternoons on grass embankments during Test matches in Australia? Even South Africa – not governed by one of the world’s richest cricket boards – consistently delivers a carnival-like atmosphere, placing fan engagement at the heart of both its international fixtures and its domestic T20 league.
Indian fans are not asking for imported luxury. They are only asking for imagination.
Could stadiums host local food vendors? Could fan parks be brought inside the venue? Could the venues have experiences that cater to children – some games and activities perhaps?
Could matchdays feel less like hourly torture and more like community events?
The possibilities exist. The will and interest perhaps does not.
WHAT DO THE FANS WANT?
The simplest answer is respect. For themselves, and for the game.
The culture of passes remains one of the most infuriating practices. In stadiums holding 40,000, fans recount instances where fewer than 7,000 tickets were made available, the rest distributed among VIPs, officials and affiliates. Ask a Chennai Super Kings fan during an Indian Premier League season and you’ll hear familiar stories – some supporters even fall victim to ticket black-marketing scams.
The result is predictable. Fans scramble, overpay and are still treated like an inconvenience.
The demands are not extravagant.
- Open more gates.
- Provide safe entry and exit.
- Create locker systems for everyday belongings.
Most importantly, stop criminalising the spectator.
“The Indian cricket experience usually feels very anti-people to me,” a fan with type 1.5/LADA diabetes told India Today.
“Because I need insulin and hypoglycaemia supplies, I have to carry a bag. At Indian stadiums, you’re asked to throw away even coins. I’ve never dreamt of going for a match here because I know I’ll come back worried about my health.”
“When I went to Old Trafford, they checked my supplies, asked people with larger bags to use lockers, vetted everything and let me in. No fuss. No suspicion.”
“In India, it’s cage-like enclosures, terrible food and water management, and women’s toilets that are best not spoken about.”
PEOPLE PAY PRICE WITH THEIR LIVES
One of the most alarming consequences of treating spectators as an inconvenience rather than stakeholders is how easily safety collapses into chaos.
Crowd control in Indian cricket stadiums is often designed around hierarchy, not humanity. VIPs are ushered in through wide ramps and segregated promenades. Fans, by contrast, are funnelled through a handful of narrow gates, subjected to repeated checks, arbitrary stoppages and last-minute rule changes. The result is predictable: bottlenecks, frustration and panic.
In 2025 alone, this risk turned frighteningly real on more than one occasion.
In Delhi, during Virat Kohli’s rare Ranji Trophy appearance, thousands of fans gathered hoping to catch a glimpse of the star. Entry procedures remained opaque, gates were opened late, and information was scarce. The crowd surged. People were pushed, children lifted over barricades, and for several minutes, control was visibly lost.
A few months later in Bengaluru, the consequences of such mismanagement were fatal. During Royal Challengers Bengaluru’s IPL victory celebrations, authorities and organisers failed to anticipate or prepare for the scale of the crowd that turned up. Permissions for the event had reportedly been denied, yet it went ahead regardless. With no effective crowd control or dispersal plan in place, the situation deteriorated rapidly. In the chaos that followed, eleven people lost their lives.
This was not a freak tragedy caused by unpredictable fan behaviour. It was a failure of planning, responsibility and restraint. When institutions ignore warnings, bypass permissions and treat crowds as an afterthought, the cost is not an inconvenience. It is lives.
BCCI: WAKE UP NOW
Cricket in India has never been richer, louder or more powerful. It wins trophies, breaks records and commands influence far beyond the boundary ropes. But somewhere along the way, it has become smaller in spirit. The irony is unavoidable. The richest board in world cricket, armed with unmatched resources, continues to struggle with basics: dignity, access and care.
Indian cricket has not forgotten how to win. It has forgotten who it is supposed to belong to.
And until that changes, the game will keep filling seats and screens, even as it empties itself of something far more important.
– Ends
-1766818669165_d.png?w=218&resize=218,150&ssl=1 "England opener Ben Duckett reaches 3,000 Test runs milestone")
