Ben Bloom’s feature on the struggles of England’s County clubs amidst the commercial takeover originally appeared in the 2025 edition of the Wisden Almanack.
To the background hum of tractors and lawnmowers tending the outfield at Derby’s County Ground, around 100 of the club’s most devoted supporters tuck into a roast dinner while sharing tales of another season passed. It is late October, and the first meeting of the Derbyshire Cricket Society’s winter programme of monthly talks. Almost everyone inside the pavilion’s main function room is a county member – and therefore an owner of the club. An attendee asks a question of chairman Ian Morgan, one of the game’s most amiable administrators, who has held his position since 2017, and is halfway through a stint as the county’s high sheriff.
“We’ve heard a lot about counties potentially looking to go down the route of private ownership,” says the questioner. “Is that something Derbyshire are thinking of doing?” To general delight, Morgan’s denial is swift: “We’ve taken the view that we would rather be masters of our own destiny.” The member-owned model has served the club for over 150 years, and is doing just fine.
Despite financial turmoil that has bordered on the existential, advocates of county cricket’s traditional ownership structure point to the fact that not one of the 18 first-class clubs has fallen by the wayside. Not so long ago, every county effectively operated as a private members’ club, owned and run by those who paid their fees to be part of the inner sanctum. These days, while the majority have not changed – no shareholder claims dividends, all profits are reinvested – even the diehards defer to those for whom running county clubs is an occupation. Internal arrangements differ, but there is a common thread: boards and committees consist primarily of professional directors, plus a smaller number of member representatives. All appointments are determined by vote and, in theory at least, decisions can be vetoed, or the reps booted out.
For many, a structure that gives precedent to the voice of the many is preferable to the private-owner route common in football and rugby. After all, who is more invested in a club than those who have committed their own time, money and emotion? “A democracy is the right way forward,” argues Alan Higham, founder and coordinator of the County Cricket Members Group. “The alternative, of having an elite of people self-appointed into positions to make these decisions on our behalf, is not very attractive. Unless somebody comes up with a better structure, the current one has a lot to commend it.”
Presently, 15 of the 18 first-class counties follow such a model. Hampshire were first to ditch it, when Rod Bransgrove rescued the club from bankruptcy at the turn of the century. At Durham (2004) and Northamptonshire (2016), members voted to become a limited company. Unlike Hampshire, who last year were taken over by the Indian conglomerate GMR Group, co-owners of Delhi Capitals in the IPL, they are not answerable to one major benefactor. Northamptonshire’s fate, though, was determined by a vote of 172 to 27. Fewer than 200 dictated the club’s future, yet in effect they wielded one of the 19 votes – the counties plus MCC – in ECB decision-making.
By the end of 2022, there were just over 69,000 full adult county members. Subtract those at Hampshire, Durham and Northamptonshire, and a little more than 61,000 control the future of the domestic game, of whom a small fraction exercise their vote. Numbers are further skewed by the fact that Surrey account for around 20,000.
To the exasperation of critics, the members’ power does not diminish as their numbers decline. When the ECB published Andrew Strauss’s high-performance review in late 2022, the two most contentious recommendations – to reduce the number of Championship matches, and trim Division One – were sunk by a revolt before they reached a formal vote. Yet in the same breath members were powerless to prevent the creation or sell-off of The Hundred – a competition most of them abhor.
In June 2023, the report by the Independent Commission for Equity in Cricket, Holding Up A Mirror to Cricket, praised the county model for being democratic, since it “distributes power more widely rather than concentrating it in the hands of an organisation’s leaders, and has the capacity to create greater accountability”. But it also argued that a small number of people “currently wield a disproportionate influence on the game”.
As franchise cricket grows, and the largest crowds in the English domestic game consist overwhelmingly of those without voting rights, many are wondering whether county loyalists – most of them white, male and over 50 – are best placed to determine the sport’s future. Some are doing so more courteously than others.
Durham chief executive Tim Bostock caused uproar when he suggested the members’ perspective would “kill the game”. He said they were “effectively activists” and “passionate Luddites”, and feared that “the whole structure is being dictated to by what might only be about 10,000 people… We’ve ended up with the lowest common denominator ruling the day.” Bostock swiftly made clear his regret at his language, but many agreed with him.
Among the spectators on the first day of a rain-affected Championship match at Sophia Gardens is Jake Hawkins – a twentysomething Gloucestershire member who has paid his subs for eight years, but stays at arm’s length. “I try to keep out of the membership side of things, because there are a lot of people who are overly opinionated, and like to think they run the club,” he says. “They’ve been there for 30, 40, 50 years. Would I get a look in? Probably not.”
Does he feel the composition of the average membership puts off his peers? “Yes. Look around. I’m probably one of the youngest people in the ground. I see friendly faces, but I don’t know a single person my age that is a member of a county, and I think that is a problem. Membership is so important for smaller, unfashionable counties like us. The make-up probably does limit young people, because they look around and think there is nothing for them.”
At Chelmsford, Teri-Leigh Jones is one half of the All the Overs podcast, launched to provide a voice for younger people interested in the Championship. Despite their passion for Essex, she and her husband and co-host, Owen, feel similarly excluded. “I went to one AGM, and I didn’t find it particularly helpful,” she says. “It was a really stuffy exercise, where the conversations had already been had: they told us what was going to happen, it happened and then we left. Our agency in what goes on here is non-existent. The attendance at the meeting wasn’t great. Everyone looked the same – it was all old men, with a couple of women. It didn’t feel welcoming, or like an invitation to offer any viewpoints.”
In recent years, some counties have granted voting rights to those who might attend only a handful of short-form games, in a bid to canvass a wider cross-section of their fanbase. But irrespective of the demographics, members do not bring in enough cash to make clubs financially viable. Income generated by the sale of the eight Hundred teams – amounting to £975m – could change everything. But, until then, none of the counties generated more than 15 per cent of their income from subs and ticket sales; by contrast, payments from the ECB amounted to almost 50% of total revenue across the domestic game.
The financial state of a number of clubs, large and small, has been perilous. An article in The Cricketer revealed that five had required emergency help from the ECB over the previous two years. In early 2023, Yorkshire supporters flicking through their club’s annual report were faced with the stark warning that “without further funding of c£3.5m, the club will not be able to continue as a going concern”. The Championship’s most successful club were on the verge of going bust. Various options were discussed, before former chairman Colin Graves was welcomed back in exchange for an injection of cash. His initial bid, based on demutualisation of the club, had been rejected, but he now returned as part of a deal that did not mention the club’s status. In a move many feared inevitable, he soon confirmed that “converting the club to a private structure… appears at this point essential for its future”. Perhaps it was no surprise when Yorkshire became the only host club in The Hundred to sell their entire stake to investors, with Sun Group, owners of the IPL’s Sunrisers Hyderabad, valuing Northern Superchargers at £100m.
In 2023, Will Brown – then chief executive of Gloucestershire – said: “Within the next five years, I can see private-equity ownership of maybe half the counties, if not more. The minute the first couple go – beyond what Hampshire, Northants and Durham have done – the rest will follow, because you won’t have any choice. It becomes a much more commercial beast, which is scary.” Brown prefers the existing model, because “members transform it from being a team on a pitch to being a club – a group of people with a shared passion and identity”. He also conceded: “I don’t know if it’s the model for the future.” The Hundred windfall, which could mean a payout of close to £30m for each of the 11 non-host counties, suggests he may be right.
In an open letter last summer, Leicestershire’s enterprising chief executive Sean Jarvis – who had previously announced £60m redevelopment plans for Grace Road – issued a plea. “While we have a very loyal and supportive fanbase, the numbers are not sufficient for us to deliver our ambitious plans and continue to strive for more trophies,” he said. “I would go so far as to say that if we do not see an upturn in membership, the future of the club could be very bleak.”
The Hundred ought to provide a lifeline, at least in the short term. It could even stave off the spectre of privatisation. Yet it means accepting the largest influx of private interest English cricket has ever seen.
Relinquishing control is a pill some accept they may have to swallow. Jeff Coleman, of the Middlesex Members’ Communication Group, expresses relief that his near-70 years of watching county cricket are in the past rather than future, because “the whole thing now is just so driven by money”. But he admits: “Maybe that’s the way we have to go – become more of a business to survive – because of the competition that is out there globally.”
Others remain adamant about the power of the collective. A Derbyshire member since 1974, David Griffin has not missed a day’s action for over 15 years, and is now the club’s heritage officer and statistician. “We’re the only buffer from the complete annihilation of county cricket,” he insists. Griffin strongly believes wealthy investors are not the answer: “I’m not sure it will be an advancement for English cricket because it will sound the death knell in the end. Where do we want this game to go? Because otherwise the rich will get richer in the short term, and in the end the game will just dissolve.”
Fortunately for Griffin, those navigating the path for his beloved Derbyshire agree they do not want to cede control to a deep-pocketed outsider. There, at least, the status quo will remain for now, and a dessert of apple and blackberry crumble can be enjoyed without too much concern about radical change. Many counterparts around the country, however, are not so content.
Ben Bloom is a freelance sports journalist, and author of Batting for Time: The Fight to Keep English Cricket Alive.
Follow Wisden for all cricket updates, including live scores, match stats, quizzes and more. Stay up to date with the latest cricket news, player updates, team standings, match highlights, video analysis and live match odds.
