At the end of the day, people need to understand that the IPL has a corporate side to it, and a very definite corporate side. It's not at all cricket in the traditional sense.
—Vijay Mallya, owner of Bangalore Royal Challengers

Pundits say the Indian Premier League is not cricket at all, and that's debatable.

Businessmen used to the market system expect that certainty on the cricket field.

But one thing's certain—it certainly doesn't answer to tradition. IPL is an unprecedented, brazen marriage of money and cricket, pitting corporate values against those that define cricket. The cold pursuit of profit plays by a logic that demands predictability, and on the cricket field it's often luck that decides if a snick would go for a four or result in a dismissal. Worse, T20 is cricket's most perilous form, with suicidal batsmen and scapegoat bowlers. Ironically, it's bankrolled by corporate czars who make money out of industrial and market certitudes. It's this world of certainties they want to recreate on the cricket ground, a place that derives its buzz and drama from the very mercurial nature of sport. But they believe it's their right to expect returns on their investments. It's a clash of cultures that's becoming overt: in the form of marketing men officiously proffering knowledge of cricket basics to grizzled professionals in team meetings.

But this has become rampant in the IPL, most conspicuously in the Bangalore Royal Challengers team. Its owner, Vijay Mallya, is a man nurtured on success. Much he's touched has turned into gold, except in big sport. His Force India team is an also-ran in Formula One, but because F1 isn't a big draw in India, the ignominy is not crushing. In contrast, cricket is stronger than faith in India. And the Challengers' poor show—seven defeats in nine games so far—has hurt Mallya's ego; his bouquet of spirits was to suffer the scorn that's the lot of a loser whose bark is worse than the bite.

Mallya then made the first corporate-style intervention, pulling out the pink slip on team CEO Charu Sharma.

Honchos would tick off Bangalore players, asking them to work harder, like themselves when they miss targets.

They said he resigned due to personal reasons; Sharma insisted he was fired. Bowling coach Venkatesh Prasad was also in the line of fire, but was reportedly spared by captain Rahul Dravid interceding on his behalf. But long before the hire and fire syndrome hit home, over-enthusiastic executives of Mallya's UB Group had descended on the team. Dravid and Martin Crowe, the chief cricket officer, had to reluctantly put up with it.

Insiders say meddling in the Bangalore team has reached ridiculous proportions. "They join the team meetings and point out mistakes to the coach and players," a Royal Challengers source told Outlook . "They even berate the video and statistics analyst for not providing enough data to the team to form its plans." Besides this piecemeal cricket analysis, the corporate minders even insisted players must double their practice time, arguing that "when we fail to meet our targets, we work doubly hard".

Even before the team began to stumble during its campaign, Mallya treated the players as he would treat staff. For instance, he expected them to grace his parties late into the night. "They'd say these guys (cricketers) have a good time at our expense and don't do enough on the field," says another source.

Pounded by rivals onfield and besieged by UB executives off it, the embattled team thought it fit to take a break.

"Let us handle the cricket," Warne told the Rajasthan Royals managers. Else, all the Aussies would quit.

The wilds of Ranthambhore was elected as an escape from the cricket. Hotel bookings were done. Then the omnipotent bosses stepped in. They decided the team hadn't earned the right to a holiday and cancelled the bookings. (An ITC Welcomgroup source confirmed this to Outlook.) A punitive approach reminiscent of a stern parent taking away candy from an errant child—is it appropriate for a team of high-profile cricketers?

After Charu's exit, Mallya turned the heat on Dravid. "I want from Rahul Dravid to do the best for the team and to produce good results for us because I don't think Rahul Dravid enjoys being at the bottom of the league tables, and certainly I don't," he said. Mallya regretted not playing a bigger role during the player auctions. "I was tempted to bid for players I wanted but they (Dravid and Sharma) held me back.... When Rahul Dravid was not present at the second auction, I wanted to get some players but Charu Sharma was tentative about them. I mean I bought Misbah-ul-Haq because I was determined to do it. There were other players I was discouraged about."

But team insiders say Misbah was never an issue and Mallya's wishlist couldn't be purchased because of the cap ($5 million) on the amount an owner could spend at the auction. Cricket requires a team of at least 11 players; one expensive player has to be at the expense of a few. Nor was the selection of the team without logic. A source familiar with the thought behind the choice says, "The idea was to shore up the bowling; the logic was that batsmen would be likely to perish at the first mistake, but bowlers would have 24 balls to bowl. The team was thus packed with top bowlers." Unfortunately, problems cropped up. Nathan Bracken got injured, ditto Anil Kumble, and Dale Steyn was not released by Cricket South Africa for the first three games. And Jacques Kallis, among the world's best allrounders, performed below par. This source says Mallya was indeed keen on some other players. "Obviously, in an auction, you cannot always get the players you want," he added.

Firm grip: Unlike Dravid, Warne is firmly in control in Jaipur

But men with fat wallets and fatter egos want their money's worth. "IPL is cricket, but the foundation of this is money," says a senior Delhi Daredevils official. "The owners spent millions of dollars on teams, and they want to have their say. And whether you like it or not, you have to listen." Having bought a 'commodity', they're stomping with self-importance on turfs where the game's biggest administrators tread softly. "Even Sharad Pawar has never attended a team meeting," says a Daredevils insider. "But these corporate people attend meetings, and fools among them even try to tell players and coaches how to play!"

Corporate interference is, understandably, less when the team is racking up victories. For instance, when there were attempts to include the son of a powerful bcci administrator in Shane Warne's Rajasthan Royals, Warne put his foot down. The young man would never have made it to the playing XI, but could have been richer by Rs 1.8 lakh through daily allowance. "Warne said he was not good enough to be even among the irregulars," says a Royals source. "Warne had to warn them off, saying, 'You handle the administration and we handle the cricket,'" says the source. "Else, he said, he and other Australians in the team would walk away."

Another team with minimal meddling is Mumbai Indians. "That's because of two factors—Mukesh Ambani's restrained style and the presence of Sachin Tendulkar," says a source. "No one would dare try to tell Tendulkar how to play cricket!" Mumbai's coach, Lalchand Rajput, confirmed this to Outlook: "Even after four defeats, we were not put under pressure. Even I was a bit surprised by this, but they only said as long as you put in your best efforts, it is fine."

Likewise with Kolkata Knight Riders. Co-owner Shahrukh Khan, who dons the mantle of a cheerleader, works the fans to a frenzy but when it comes to the cricket, he keeps out. Being a filmstar helps, for he's aware of the capricious nature of the nation's two obsessions, cricket and cinema.

On the face of it, sport lends itself beautifully to some of the basic tenets of corporate culture—dispassionate evaluation, for instance. Who could argue against tons of runs or wickets? Corporate culture has also helped market cricket and earn big bucks for players. But it can also be a bane. Cold corporate logic cannot comprehend a perfect outswinger from an opponent, an umpiring error or a stunning catch. There are also excessive checks and balances. "I'm tired of the red-tape involved, the need to keep a 100 people in the loop on every small decision or action I take," an official of the Jaipur team told Outlook.

From the corporate world has also come the dreaded trait of layoffs. Kolkata released five of their players since they had little chance of playing the remaining six games; they remain contracted, though, and would not lose monetarily. But Ranadeb Bose, the most prominent of the five, declared he was disappointed. The decision to release the five was taken by coach John Buchanan, insisted Joy Bhattacharya, the team director. He claimed it was not an exercise in cost-cutting—it would have cost the team about Rs 70,000 a day to keep the five. But others say that with profits still very far in the horizon, IPL teams are under pressure because of the billions invested in the game.

IPL has turned sport into a commodity. And though its votaries cite European football leagues as their model, there's a crucial difference, say critics. Unlike IPL, massive salaries in English football are for a game that's very serious: football, not a crossbreed—not, say, a 20-minute game that's played by five people with a goal double the actual size. "The owners must understand the nature of the beast," says a Bangalore insider. "You might be a champion parrot trainer, but that doesn't make you a champion lion trainer. You must understand the nature of the beast, else the lion will eat you."

But, for now, it's the game that's changing its colour in the face of a predator.