The Economics of T20 Franchise Leagues: The Four Questions Nobody Wants to Ask

A match scorecard never lies. But a league's business model? That one hides its face more often than not. Before I look at the paper, I always look at one thing—who is speaking, and who is staying quiet. Because the word that was not said is usually the real story. Recently Wisden launched a business vertical in which three leagues are discussed—ILT20 in the UAE, The Hundred in England, and the CPL in the Caribbean. There are three people on the panel: CPL chief executive Pete Russell, ILT20 interim chief operating officer Mike Fordham—who has also worked at The Hundred—and journalist Katya Witney. No cricketers. No scores. No valuations. But the four topics chosen for discussion—how leagues are started, privatisation models, player payment issues, and team identity—are the four hardest questions in franchise-league economics. And notice: not one of them is a broadcast-rights-value question. That selection is itself a statement. The three leagues being discussed are structurally incomparable. The Hundred is a board-owned, 100-ball, city-franchise product played in a domestic window. ILT20 runs on private partnership, in T20 format, for an expatriate market, in a January window. The CPL is island-identity T20, played in August-September. Why does this distinction matter? Because when someone discusses 'how leagues are started' across all three in a single episode, he is actually discussing three different ownership structures, three different revenue architectures, and three different risk profiles—not one. The Hundred's 100-ball format is often described as experimental. I call it a deliberate business decision. Because a separate format means a separate intellectual property—one that cannot be directly benchmarked against T20 leagues at the rights-negotiation table. Where comparison is impossible, the logic of pricing changes too. On the question of starting a league, the CPL is the best case study. Why? Because it was built under the hardest possible conditions. No sovereign wealth fund. No mega-broadcast deal. And it grew inside a fragmented, multi-nation federation—where decisions require the consent of many boards. Of the three, the one that built the most from the least is the most instructive. And the CPL presents itself as a development vehicle, not merely a commercial entity. The league's role in growing the game in the West Indies—that is a governance claim, not a franchise-valuation claim. The framing itself is a signal. Now to the matter I consider most important—player payments. When a franchise league puts 'player payment issues' among its headline topics in the very first episode of what is ostensibly a commercial-forecast discussion, it tells you the labour and compensation layer has become a first-order business risk. In the 2010s, league coverage meant broadcast value and star-acquisition competition. Now the table has been joined by the guarantee of squad-payment settlement. Outside the IPL, leagues typically compensate players through central contracts and match fees rather than an open auction. The IPL model is pre-funded. The rest, in many cases, pay later. That is where timing risk is born—when will the money arrive, and will it arrive at all. For overseas players, this risk is greater still. They are short-window contractors with no local employment protection. When a payment dispute arises, legal remedies are very limited. So the matter is usually settled through reputational pressure and agent blacklisting. It is a silent punishment system. And this is where the governance question enters. A league that cannot guarantee payment to its players is effectively transferring its integrity risk onto the most financially fragile participants. This is perhaps the least-discussed linkage in cricket—the relationship between unpaid wages and corruption risk. History shows players who suffer irregular or unpaid remuneration become far more exposed to tempting approaches. Now the privatisation question. It looks like a business question, but it is actually a governance question. Selling shares in a board-owned competition does not merely mean extracting cash—it means transferring control rights. Scheduling, format stability, and the board's regulatory independence all become negotiable. There is another thing I do not expect anyone on this panel to raise. IPL franchise groups now hold stakes across multiple leagues—ILT20, SA20, MLC, and now English assets. That means 'privatisation' has become the same capital buying the same product in multiple markets. Nobody on a league-insider panel will press that concentration question hard. The working case study is The Hundred. A different point—I am noting what is absent from the official statement. First, no match statistics. No innings, no phases, no scoreline. So should I invent a broadcast-value number? No. When discussing a league's business structure, what is missing becomes the biggest signal. Just as an experienced cricket journalist watches which ball did not roll under the yellow light, here one has to watch which question never made it to the table. When writing a match report I always follow one rule. I never write what did not happen on the field. I write only what is visible from the touchline. In this list I found one thing. 'Team identity'—the place where the three leagues diverge most. And it is something no amount of television money can buy. CPL franchises are island-based. Local people support their island's team—it is geographic, it is like blood relation. The Hundred's city-based branding is imposed from above. And ILT20's foundation is expatriate club culture. But there is a problem. In a league with no promotion-relegation and near-total annual squad turnover, team identity is sustained by brand, venue, and matchday ritual—not by player continuity. That is why The Hundred invested in city names and distinct visual identity rather than county heritage. It was a calculated decision. One thing must be acknowledged here. Of the three on the panel, one is ILT20's interim COO—meaning still inside the league. Another is CPL's CEO. This is not a neutral regulatory panel; it is a league-insider panel. This is not a criticism of the event. It is a framing disclosure—which the listener should carry with them. An interim COO will generally not practise adversarial journalism about a league's payment practices. That is not an accusation; it is a structural reality. And the word 'interim' is a small but real signal. In franchise leagues an interim COO role often coincides with leadership transition, restructuring, or a pre-investment period. Here I am speculating—it is a possibility, not confirmed fact. Now, finally, one thing I find most uncomfortable. In the closing paragraph Wisden mentioned its general content offering. Among it is 'live match odds'. A legacy cricket publication has now normalised betting-odds content into its own product list. That is not new news—but that it has now become normal, that is the news. I leave one question. When the numbers go public, a league's story becomes interesting. But of the four questions raised—start-up, privatisation, payment, identity—nobody expects answers to three of them from a league-insider panel. So the question is—what is the audience coming to hear? Answers, or a demonstration of how the question gets dropped?