Lucknow: For six years now, a steady but muffled plea has echoed across Uttar Pradesh’s cricketing corridors: the state must field four teams, not one. It is a demand shaped by sheer arithmetic as much as lived experience. A state of 25 crore people—larger than many cricket-playing nations—simply cannot dream of doing justice to its sprawling talent pool through a single, overburdened side. Yet, despite repeated appeals and scattered movements, the idea has been pushed into the shadows time and again, surfacing only to be suppressed by inertia and entrenched interests.
When Chief Minister Yogi Adityanath acknowledged the logic behind forming four teams over a month ago, the cricketing community felt a rare breeze of optimism. Here was a political endorsement aligning with years of frustration among players, coaches, and aspirants.
But days have slipped into weeks, and the files appear to have gone cold again. Once more, hope risks dissolving into the familiar fog of administrative silence.
A State Too Large for One Team
The case for four teams is not a whimsical demand; it is a structural necessity. Uttar Pradesh is vast—geographically, culturally, and demographically. In cricketing terms, that scale is both a blessing and a curse. Youngsters from Meerut, Gorakhpur, Bareilly, Prayagraj, Varanasi, and Bundelkhand cannot all aspire to squeeze into one squad controlled from a single power centre.
The result is predictable and tragic: an exodus of talent.
Players migrate to Uttarakhand, Rajasthan, Delhi, and elsewhere, often achieving the success that eluded them in their home state. Some blossom, proving that opportunity—not ability—was the missing link. Others flounder, uprooted from familiar coaching systems and support structures, eventually fading into anonymity. Those who stay back fare no better; many languish without selection, disheartened by an opaque system, their careers quietly extinguished by neglect.
A state that routinely produces national-level talent cannot afford such wastage.
The Elephant in the Room: Power and Monopoly
The uncomfortable truth is that structural reform remains stalled because the Uttar Pradesh Cricket Association (UPCA) leadership does not want it. The fear is transparent: four teams mean divided authority, diluted influence, and disrupted power equations. Why allow decentralisation when centralisation has yielded unchallenged control and, as critics point out, considerable comfort?
Rajiv Shukla’s firm grip over UP cricket is no secret. Under this regime, the power matrix works smoothly—too smoothly to invite disruption. The priorities of administrators and the aspirations of players have never felt more misaligned. For years, the association has projected itself as a guardian of cricket, yet has done little to address the systemic bottleneck that has forced countless young cricketers into oblivion.
This is not mismanagement; this is a deliberate resistance to change.
Purvanchal’s Struggle for Identity
The attempts to form a Purvanchal Cricket Association—led passionately by Arvind Singh and supporters—reflect a grassroots hunger for local representation. But the effort has been fragmented, undercut by bureaucratic hurdles and political complexities. Even more damaging are those forming “Purvanchal associations” from the comfort of Lucknow—geographically detached efforts that only deepen mistrust.
Purvanchal, with its own culture, sporting identity, and talent, deserves more than tokenism. The fact that these attempts have remained stuck speaks less about their feasibility and more about the state’s structural unwillingness to decentralise.
The Chief Minister’s Word — A Flicker of Hope, Now Fading
When Chief Minister Yogi Adityanath voiced agreement with the idea of forming four teams, it felt like a breakthrough. His acknowledgement carried weight: here was the state’s top executive recognising cricket’s grassroots demand.
But endorsement without execution is merely encouragement without action. The cricketing community now fears that the moment is slipping. Without sustained political pressure, this proposal will meet the same fate as many well-meaning ideas—lodged in files, smothered by internal pushback, and forgotten by the time the next cricketing season begins.
Players Must Lead the Movement
If there is one lesson from Indian cricket’s history, it is this: reforms rarely come from the top. They emerge from pressure, persuasion, and persistent collective action. The demand for four teams will not be realised unless former and current players rise as a united force.
They must speak—not in murmurs, but in a chorus.
They must organise—not in disjointed groups, but as a statewide movement.
They must insist—not merely request—that Uttar Pradesh’s cricketing future cannot be held hostage by a handful of administrators.
If the state’s vast network of ex-players, coaches, and active cricketers galvanises itself, political leadership will have no choice but to act. Without this push, the UPCA hierarchy will continue to operate undisturbed, and young cricketers will keep paying the price.
The Larger Question: What Kind of Cricketing State Does UP Want to Be?
Uttar Pradesh stands at a crossroads. It can either embrace a future where opportunity matches ambition—or it can continue down a path where talent must leave home to survive, where politics trumps performance, and where administrative convenience outweighs sporting progress.
Four teams will not merely expand slots; they will decentralise training, foster local pride, uncover hidden talent, and revive competition across regions. It is the reform the state has needed for years—and the one it keeps refusing to implement.
For a state as large and aspirational as Uttar Pradesh, the question is no longer why four teams are needed. The question is: how much longer will UP cricket be allowed to stagnate under the weight of its own power structures?
Until that answer changes, a generation of cricketers will continue to be lost to silence, waiting for a reform that should have arrived long ago.
