This is the 11th in a series exploring the future of cricket by Eddie Fitzgibbon, a Wisden board member and strategic advisor specialising in cricket with a focus on the USA market and sports technology. Read part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight, part nine and part ten get more from Eddie on his Substack and connect with him on LinkedIn.

In the last chapter, we looked at the venue monetisation opportunities in cricket’s Full Member nations. We explored how the mature cricket world (England, Australia, India, Pakistan, South Africa) can try to squeeze a 365-day yield out of assets built a century ago.

But for more than half the cricket world, the problem isn’t maximising the asset. It is simply building it.

You cannot commercialise a stadium that doesn’t exist. You cannot sell hospitality in a ground that has no toilets. You cannot build a high-performance culture on a matting wicket in a public park where you have to clear dog walkers off the outfield before the first ball.

This is the silent crisis of the emerging game. We are currently asking nations like Japan, Nepal, and Uganda to compete in a global arms race, yet we are sending them into the arena with a borrowed kit bag. We celebrate their passion, their giant-killing moments at World Cups, and their viral clips on social media. But we ignore the physical reality that when the cameras turn off, they often have nowhere to play.

If Article 10 was about optimisation, Article 11 is about creation.

To solve this, cricket needs to stop looking at itself and start looking at the machine FIFA built. But before we get to the solution, we have to understand the trap.

The trap: Why ‘cricket stadiums’ fail

In emerging markets, the economics of the mature market simply do not apply. The greatest mistake an Associate board can make is trying to build a mini-Lord’s.

You cannot build a 15,000-seat cricket-specific stadium in Kampala or Kuala Lumpur and expect it to survive.

Let’s look at the P&L of a traditional stadium in a non-Test nation. It does not host meaningful international revenue-generating events. Maybe it gets a regional T20 tournament for two weeks or, if they are lucky, a part hosting of an ICC event every four years. But nothing that guarantees reliable cash flow.

(Note: Some smaller Full Members and Associates are getting creative with their own T20 competitions – like Nepal, Afghanistan, Ireland, Scotland, and the Netherlands – but these take time to build a paying audience and carry inherent upfront risk.)

For the vast majority of the year, a single-use stadium becomes a white elephant, eating up maintenance budgets it cannot earn back. The grass still needs cutting, the security still needs paying, but the turnstiles are rusting.

In the developing world, a single-use asset is a liability. It creates a depreciation trap where the cost of keeping the facility alive drains the very funds meant for player development. This is the Maintenance Paradox: grants are often available to build things, but rarely available to fix them. A board that builds a stadium it cannot monetise is essentially signing its own bankruptcy papers.

The era of the cricket-only ground in emerging markets is over before it even began.

The solution

The solution is the Multi-Sport Community Hub.

We are standing at the precipice of the largest infrastructure boom in sports history. According to the World Economic Forum (WEF), in their report on sport, over the next decade, more than 300 major stadiums are expected to be constructed worldwide, with half located in emerging economies.

This presents a binary choice for the cricket world. We can either build 150 of these white elephants – gated, single-use fortresses that sit empty for 340 days a year, draining public funds and gathering dust. Or, we can build 150 community hubs that function as economic engines.

We should not be pitching ‘cricket stadiums’ to governments and investors; we should start pitching civic assets where cricket happens to be the anchor tenant. This is a facility where the outfield is used for soccer on Tuesdays and hockey on Wednesdays. It is a place where the pavilion isn’t just a changing room, but a co-working space, a community gym, a wedding venue, and a medical centre.

Why does this shift matter? Because it changes who pays for it.

When you build a cricket ground, you are asking for charity. When you build a community hub, you are solving a problem for the government (public health/youth engagement) and creating an opportunity for the private sector (yield).

The blueprint: The emerging market facility stack

We need to move beyond the vague buzzword of ‘PPP’ (Public-Private Partnership). Investors and governments need a deal structure, not a philosophy.

Here is a repeatable facility stack – a blueprint for building a viable asset in a cash-poor market. It separates the politics of cricket from the business of the facility.

Layer 1: Land (The health defense)

In most emerging markets, land is the most expensive line item. The deal works when the local government creates security of tenure.

Ideally, the government transfers the title deed to the SPV (as we see in the Uganda example below). However, if transferring state land is politically impossible, a 99-year lease is the bankable alternative. It creates a virtual ownership that satisfies lenders without forcing the state to sell the family silver.

But how do you convince them to give you the land? Do not talk about cover drives. Talk about the $300 billion global cost of physical inactivity.

The WEF report creates the business case for you. A cricket ground that is gated and locked is a liability. But a cricket ground that doubles as a community active space (running tracks, public gyms) is a hedge against a national healthcare crisis. You do not win the asset by promising a stadium. You win it by promising a healthier population.

Layer 2: CapEx (The blended capital)

No single entity bears the weight. Let’s create a hypothetical ‘capital lasagne’ of funding:

• Olympic/NOC grants (20%): Unlocked now that cricket is in LA28. We are no longer asking for cricket money; we are accessing high-performance funding that is legally ring-fenced for Olympic sports.
• Development bank loans (20%): Infrastructure debt from bodies like the Asian Development Bank or African Development Bank. These bodies have billions earmarked for urban development and climate resilience, but rarely for sport. By framing the hub as a civic asset, we unlock these vaults.
• Anchor corporate sponsor (20%): Selling naming rights before the first brick is laid. This isn’t just cash; it is proof of commercial validity for the other lenders.
• Diaspora ‘passion capital’ (10%): The secret weapon. Wealthy expats want to give back but don’t trust cricket boards. By investing in the building (via an SPV) rather than the board, they get a tangible legacy.
• Institutional capital (30%): This is the final slice that completes the stack. This is the PropCo play. Private infrastructure funds invest in the steel and concrete, not for love of the game, but for the 12-15% yield generated by the non-cricket assets (gyms, co-working, events). They act as the commercial anchor, ensuring the project is run with financial discipline.

Layer 3: Operations (The commercial shield)

Cricket boards should not run gyms. They are not qualified to manage wedding bookings or maintain commercial HVAC systems. The SPV must hire a professional gym chain or venue operator with strict KPIs to maximise yield per square foot on non-cricket days.

Here, the cricket board receives guaranteed access windows for national academies, domestic finals, and international series without having to carry the full operational burden of a 365-day facility. They get the asset when they need it, but they don’t pay for it when they don’t.

Layer 4: Revenue (The tourism export)

Once the facility is built, how does it pay for itself? The old model relies on domestic ticket sales. The new model relies on the tourism dividend.

The WEF projects that sports tourism will drive 60% of all sports revenue growth through 2030. For a nation like Namibia or Nepal, a stadium isn’t a cost center; it can be an export terminal for the tourism economy.

I speak from experience here. Having delivered cricket events in Italy, Namibia, Ireland, Nepal, and Malaysia, I have witnessed the stickiness of these destinations. If the facilities are of standard, cricket becomes the hook, but the destination is the product.

While major ICC events can provide the spike, the reality is that big revenue generating cricket events are not going to happen frequently. The recurring revenue comes from the long tail of cricket travel:

• Corporate retreats & trade bridges: This is the unmined gold. If the facilities are there, we could see global companies, particularly those with large diaspora workforces, using cricket tours as high-value employee bonuses. Imagine a San Francisco tech firm sending its team to Brazil, or a London finance group touring Switzerland. This isn’t just a holiday; it is a dual-purpose strategy where the cricket tour acts as an HR retention tool and a business development mission.
• Boutique touring: Historic wandering clubs (like the MCC-style tours) seeking new frontiers.
• The traveling fan: High-spending demographics (India, UK, Australia) who pay for the cricket experience but spend on the safari or the Himalayas.

Layer 5: Governance (The lockbox)

None of the above works if the money hits a general pot. Institutional investors will not touch an asset where revenue can be leaked into administrative travel or per diems.

We need a ring-fenced facility company (PropCo) with independent board oversight. This structure creates a fiscal airlock between the sport’s politics and the facility’s business:

• Revenue is trapped: Income from the gym, weddings, and tenants is legally mandated to service debt and maintenance first.
• Audited transparency: Investors see exactly where every dollar of yield goes, ensuring the asset remains solvent even if the national board faces cash flow turbulence.

This isn’t just accounting; it is trust. You don’t get the capital without the handcuffs.

The Olympic catalyst: The golden key to the treasury

For decades, cricket boards in emerging markets have been knocking on the side door of their local Ministry of Sport, begging for scraps from the budget. They were viewed as running a niche, non-essential colonial pastime.
LA28 kicks down the front door.

The inclusion of cricket in the Los Angeles 2028 Olympics, and its all-but-guaranteed place in Brisbane 2032, is the single greatest infrastructure unlock in the sport’s history.

Why? Because governments deal in the currency of gold medals.

A cricket facility is no longer just a place to play a game; it is now a high-performance centre for Olympians. That change in nomenclature unlocks specific Olympic solidarity funding and state-level infrastructure grants that are legally ring-fenced for Olympic sports.

Furthermore, the timeline is perfect. We aren’t just looking at a one-off exhibition in Los Angeles. With Brisbane 2032 (and possibly India in 2036) on the horizon, we effectively have a 10-year runway of Olympic status. This provides the certainty that institutional investors and governments need.

The strategy for boards is clear: Stop pitching ‘cricket development’. Start pitching ‘Olympic preparation’. The moment you align your facility with the national Olympic ambition, the chequebook opens.

The proof: The FIFA envy

For all of FIFA’s well-documented governance failures, its infrastructure logic is brutally effective. Some will argue that hardware funding is a fantasy and that sports bodies shouldn’t be in the construction business.

To them, I point to the FIFA Forward Programme.

In 2016, FIFA faced an existential crisis regarding corruption and governance. Their response was not to hoard cash, but to pour concrete. They launched a massive global redistribution mechanism that has since channeled over US$2.8 billion directly into the foundation of the sport.

They have funded over 1,600 projects globally. In Mongolia, they didn’t just send balls; they built an air dome so kids could play through the -30°C winter. In Mauritania, they rebuilt the stadium from the ground up.

FIFA understands a simple truth: Grants burn, but assets compound. If you give a federation cash for a tournament, it vanishes. If you help them build a pitch, you give them a balance sheet. They treat infrastructure as a human right of the sport.

The reality check: The regulator as enabler

Now, I know the counter-argument from the ICC: “We aren’t FIFA.”

Fair and correct. FIFA acts as a sovereign wealth fund; the ICC acts as a co-op of its members. The ICC cannot simply write a check for $10 million to build a stadium in Lagos without the finance committee asking why that money isn’t going to the Full Members.

But acknowledging the structural difficulty is not an excuse for inaction. It just means the ICC’s role must be different. Regulator does not mean bystander.
The ICC’s role isn’t to be the builder; it is to be the guarantor.

Currently, if an Associate board walks into a bank to ask for a loan to build a stadium, they get laughed out of the room. The risk profile is too high. But if the ICC steps in, not with cash, but with leverage, the conversation changes.
To unlock the infrastructure boom, we need a new division of labor:

1. The ICC’s role: The credit wrap & technical seal

This is not a call for the ICC to spend more. It is a call for it to stand behind what already exists.

A model worth exploring is where the ICC can use its institutional weight to de-risk the project in three specific ways:

• The sovereign backing: The ICC could provide a letter of comfort or a limited credit guarantee to the SPV, assuring lenders that the member board has a guaranteed revenue stream from future ICC distributions. This turns a risky bet into a bankable asset.
• The blue dot certification: Instead of every nation paying expensive consultants, the ICC could create a bankable feasibility unit. They approve the business plans. When the ICC stamps a project as viable, it gives local banks the confidence to lend.
• The diplomatic key: The ICC could deploy a roving envoy: a senior executive whose sole job is to fly in, sit with the member board, and meet the Head of State to unlock the land lease. I know from experience that when the ICC speaks, governments listen.

2. The member’s role: The PPP execution

The ICC opens the door; the Member must walk through it. It is the Board’s responsibility to secure the land (Layer 1), form the independent SPV to manage the asset, and oversee the day-to-day operations.

3. The third pillar: The capital engine

This is the missing link we discussed in Article 9. Once the ICC has provided the credibility and the member has secured the land, the third pillar of capital (institutional investors, private equity, family offices) can safely enter. They aren’t donating; they are investing in a verified infrastructure asset with a clear yield.

Field notes: What some members are already doing

We don’t need to look at theoretical models. The blueprints are already being put together in the real world.

Namibia: The corporate hustle

Namibia didn’t wait for a handout. Facing a deadline to co-host the World Cup and a project cost of N$72 million (approx. US$4m), they realised they couldn’t afford the debt of a traditional build. They executed a masterstroke of future-back financing. Knowing they were confirmed co-hosts for the 2026 U19 and 2027 Men’s World Cups, they leveraged the guaranteed ICC grants to unlock liquidity. They combined this with a commercial partnership, selling the naming rights to First National Bank (FNB) before the first brick was laid. By stacking ICC capital against corporate sponsorship, and utilising contra deals to trade advertising for raw materials, they treated the stadium as a media asset from day one.

Rwanda: The lifestyle precinct

Rwanda built the Gahanga Cricket Stadium, a visually stunning ground. But the template for how to monetize such a venue is actually being built across town.
Near the BK Arena, Masai Ujiri (Giants of Africa) is constructing Zaria Court, a true sports city featuring a boutique hotel, podcast hub, retail precinct, and parkland. While Gahanga is a masterpiece of sport, Zaria Court is an engine of commerce.

This highlights the next opportunity for Rwanda: bridging the gap. Currently, teams play at Gahanga but often have to leave the precinct to spend money. The model for the future is to ensure the stadium and the lifestyle hub are integrated. They have the beautiful ground; the opportunity now is to build the ecosystem around it so teams don’t just play there, they live there.

Ireland: The state institution

Ireland realised that to act like a Full Member, they needed to stop living like a nomad. For decades, they rented club grounds and spent millions on temporary stands. Literally burning cash. The move to Abbotstown (The National Cricket Centre) is a state-backed project. How did they get the government to pay? They leveraged the tourism dividend of the 2030 World Cup. An EY report projected €93 million in economic returns. That data turned the government from a skeptic into a partner.

Japan: Scaling using major events

Japan is proving that infrastructure can be scalable and shows how major events can help this. It started with Sano International Cricket Ground, where the JCA partnered with the local government to build a ‘City of Cricket’, a permanent, high-quality facility that has become the spiritual home of the sport. Now, they are leveraging the 2026 Asian Games to duplicate that success. The development of venues in Aichi signals a strategic shift: moving from a single-hub economy to a national footprint. By using the Games as the catalyst to open a second major region, Japan is showing how major events can be used to fast-track permanent infrastructure growth.

Uganda: The land issue

In Uganda, we see the existential danger of tenancy. The historic Lugogo Cricket Oval is set to be redeveloped into a commercial arena. The board was a tenant on government land, meaning they were vulnerable. It was a tragedy, but it forced a strategic awakening. The board realised that a lease that can be cancelled is not an asset. Their response was decisive: in late 2025, they purchased 15 acres of land in Nakasajja to build a headquarters they actually own. The lesson? If you don’t own the deed, you are one political decision away from being homeless.

Nepal: The warning

And then there is Nepal. Nepal has the most valuable commodities in cricket: Hunger and belief. The crowds at the TU Ground are legendary. But the ground is owned by the University, not the Cricket Association of Nepal (CAN). Disputes over leases have recently threatened the venue. Meanwhile, the Gautam Buddha International Cricket Stadium stands as a monument to the failure of the crowdfunding model. Started by a charity foundation, the money ran out and the dream stalled, forcing a government bailout. Nepal proves the thesis: Demand alone is not enough. You can have the best fans in the world, but if you don’t have the facility stack, you are building castles on sand.

The call to build: The third column of infrastructure

The ICC has done the hard work on the software and the Olympics. They have fixed the broadcast distribution, they have built a great digital product, and they have secured Olympic status.

Now, the game needs a mechanism to build the hardware.

We need a third column of capital (as discussed in Article 9) that functions like an infrastructure fund. This wouldn’t be a grant system. It would be a low-interest loan or equity facility, designed specifically to seed-fund the CapEx Layer of these community hubs.

We need to make these venues aspirational. We need the local kid in Lagos or Port Moresby to walk past a facility that looks like the future, not a relic of the past. We need them to see a gym they can join, a café where they can meet, and a pitch where they can dream.

FIFA realised a decade ago that you cannot grow the game if the game has nowhere to live. They poured the concrete. Cricket is standing at the same crossroads. The fans are there. The Olympics are coming. The private capital is watching.

But capital needs a container. The facility stack is that container.

It’s time to stop renting the future and start building it.