
While Pakistan continues to grapple with political turmoil, economic instability, and dwindling international goodwill, a fresh storm brews—this time from inside the country’s most loved institution: cricket.
A new bombshell from the Auditor General of Pakistan (AGP) has torn through the polished facade of the Pakistan Cricket Board (PCB), laying bare a sordid mess of financial irregularities, underhand deals, illegal hires, and a system built not to promote the game—but to plunder it.
This isn’t just about botched accounts—it’s a damning indictment of how Pakistan’s cricketing world has been milked for personal gain by bureaucrats and political appointees.
It’s not satire. It’s Pakistan. The PCB shelled out PKR 63.39 million to the police—yes, for meals—during international matches. One might assume a fleet of foreign dignitaries were being hosted. Instead, it was just local law enforcement doing their job.
At a time when ordinary Pakistanis are reeling under inflation, this extravagance on biryani and refreshments for security personnel screams of a system that is grotesquely out of touch with reality.
Since former test captain Ramiz Raja was removed as Chairman in December 2022, the PCB has been a game of musical chairs—except only the elite get to play. Ramiz Raja was booted. Najam Sethi walked in. Then Zaka Ashraf. Now Mohsin Naqvi.
What links them all?
Not vision. Not reform. Just silence, scandal, and a shared ability to walk away untouched.
In any other country, a report like this would spark resignations, probes, perhaps even jail time. But in Pakistan? Chairmen return for second and third terms.
The only thing “high performance” about this board is the speed with which money disappears.
Take this gem: A Director of Media was hired for PKR 900,000 per month in October 2023. But here’s the catch—the entire process, from job ad to joining letter, happened on a single day. That’s not recruitment. That’s a backroom deal. A sham.
And then there’s the quiet hiring of three unqualified coaches at the High Performance Centre in Karachi for the U-16 group. No proper process, no merit, just PKR 5.4 million in hush-hush salaries.
This isn’t how you build future champions. This is how you build an empire of favours.
If there’s a poster child for the conflict of interest in Pakistan’s cricketing setup, it’s Mohsin Naqvi.
Holding the dual position of PCB Chairman and Interior Minister, he still managed to squeeze PKR 4.17 million from PCB funds for his utility bills, petrol, and accommodation—all benefits he was already entitled to under government provisions.
In any functioning democracy, this would be front-page scandal. In Pakistan, it’s business as usual.
While those officiating games were given PKR 3.8 million in overpaid match fees, major commercial decisions have bled the PCB dry. The audit points to a PKR 198 million loss in awarding media rights at below-market value. Even worse, USD 99 million worth of international broadcast rights were given away without competitive bidding.
It begs the question: who’s cashing in?
Pakistan’s cricket board, supposedly the guardian of its most valuable national export, has become a discount shop for shady deals and silent partnerships. The country's cricketing soul is being sold by the kilo to the highest bidder—or perhaps to the best connected.
In a jaw-dropping revelation, the AG’s report flags PKR 5.3 billion in uncollected sponsorship revenue—money that rightfully belongs to Pakistan cricket, now lost in a bureaucratic abyss. Either the PCB lacks the will to enforce contracts or is complicit in deals that quietly benefit undisclosed third parties.
It’s yet another example of how institutions in Pakistan are being hollowed out—where power is used not to serve the game, but to exploit it.
What’s a good scandal without lavish transport expenses? The PCB reportedly spent:
When was the last time the board spent this kind of money on athlete rehab or under-19 training? The priorities are as clear as they are depressing.
This isn’t the first time the AGP has flagged these issues. In fact, both Najam Sethi and Zaka Ashraf—named in this latest report—have had multiple stints at the PCB helm. Each tenure brought headlines, controversies, and allegations—but never consequences.
It’s a pattern that defines Pakistan’s sporting bureaucracy: recycle the powerful, reward the connected, and ruin the institution.
The truth is brutal: Pakistan cricket is not being mismanaged — it is being looted in broad daylight, with full impunity.