I am often asked why I play for the Lucy Cavendish College Football Team. The answer, of course, is the glory and the fame. On a cold and wet Saturday, there is  an unparalleled sense of joy that washes over me as  I set foot on the rented Churchill pitches, and especially when  amidst the clutches of a relentless hangover. Other players on the team only play for the staggering wages that Lucy Cavendish is paying us, joylessly pocketing a couple of hundred grand a week in return for slotting 6 past Trinity and then blowing all of it away  at Lola’s. 

 

This is not unusual within sport. Money is playing an increasingly influential role in athletes' lives and, for some, gone are the days when being a sporting idol was enough. I am, at first glance, being cynical. People need money to survive, especially in the current cost of living crisis, and I should know this as I pay Lucy Cav rent. But the sad truth is that we have reached a point where wages are beyond excessive, and beyond what any human needs for survival. More and more athletes are playing for the money rather than the love of their respective games, fighting not out of passion, but out of wanting to  ensure a heavy purse.

 

Let’s start with the obvious culprit, football. It is the dream Year 8 English Oral; are footballers paid too much? Whether you think they are or aren’t, there’s no denying that they are handsomely paid. Figures cited in the official history of the PFA show that only eight players in England earned basic salaries of £50,000 per year in 1980-81. Just over 40 years on and it’s rare for a Premier League player not to be earning six figures a week. But you pay more money for better players, yes? That seems rational. Not according to the new global footballing league in Saudi Arabia. Their system is as follows: take an old, finished player who is relatively well-known worldwide and pay them lots of money to play. It works; some of the biggest names in world football, including Cristiano Ronaldo and Neymar have been drawn in by the scheme. This is a purely financial decision;if the wages weren’t extortionately high, no one would want to play there. Ronaldo earns a reported staggering £3.34 million a week. Meanwhile, I’m wondering if I have enough in my Monzo for a pudding tonight. 

 

I can accept that older players in their twilight years might want to earn a bit for a rainy day and when, inevitably, they have their public and messy divorce. However, it sets a bad example for younger players and portrays money as the most important motivating factor in football. An example: Jota. The Portuguese hotshot burst onto the scene at Celtic, becoming a fan favourite and leading Celtic to another Premiership title. Yet the crowd chanting his name clearly was not as appealing a sound as the jingle of coin sacks. He threw away all the love and credit he had with the fans for a high wage at Saudi club Al-Ittihad. He was only 24, and effectively ended his competitive career in exchange for millions a year. Having said that, I’m 20 and the contents of my evening involve needing to buy loo roll from Aldi tonight.  But it does sadden me that we no longer have the loyal, one-club legends we used to. I may sound like a grandparent who’s had one too many at Christmas, but I mean it when I say I miss what this country used to be. Tony Adams at Arsenal, Jack Charlton at Leeds, Ryan Giggs at Manchester United, the list goes on. I’m very aware of the irony in using Ryan Giggs as an example of loyalty. But nowadays players are too willing to leave their clubs and feel no obligation to commit, as there is always another club with a higher paycheck. They don’t even feel ashamed to play for their biggest rivals if there are enough zeroes. Havertz to Arsenal, Mount to Man United, Palmer to Chelsea. Yes, of course, other factors helped make those transfers happen, but the diminution of club loyalty is correlated to money’s influence – now players have no issue with which club they go to, it is  whichever is the highest bidder. The infamously wise Eric Cantona postulated ‘You can change your wife, your politics, your religion, but never, never can you change your favourite football team’ (Cantona, circa. 2000). Turns out you can, if you’re paid enough.

 

Perhaps football is an easy target, so allow me to explore this hypothesis in another ball game, cricket. The pay is notoriously much lower in cricket than in many other sports, with the average annual salary for a professional cricketer being under £30,000.  However, in an attempt to attract fans, there has been a commercialisation of the game. Shorter, more ‘exciting’ franchises have been introduced across the world, and with them, massive salaries. Personally, I think the five-day format is equally as riveting and prefer nothing more than sitting by myself for 7 hours a day and watching 11 men standing on a field throwing a ball. Having just said this to someone, apparently I need to ‘get a life’. Previously, cricketers would be satisfied if they were given a free lunch after the game. Now with international franchises such as the ‘Indian Premier League’, ‘Australian Big Bash’, and the newly ordained ‘South African 20’, professionals see an opportunity to be paid a lot more for a lot less. These international competitions play 120 balls per side to be more action-packed and thrilling and pay handsomely for it. 

 

Moreover, companies use these popular events to advertise. Sponsorship deals are now as crucial as perfecting the cover drive. Every inch of a cricketer's attire is a billboard for brands, making the on-field action seem like a well-choreographed marketing extravaganza. From the stickers on the bat to the logos on the jersey, every detail is a testament to the commercialisation of the game. I am irked that most players do not care about the game losing its identity. In the good old days, cricketers had day jobs, played cricket on weekends, and had a pint at the local pub afterwards. Now, they have personal trainers, nutritionists, and managers crafting their image off the field. Cricket has become a 24/7 gig, and the players are more likely to be found in boardrooms negotiating endorsements than at the neighbourhood pub reminiscing about the last game. I love nothing more than going to the pub after a game, revelling in what has just occurred and discussing cricket with my teammates, that is the true meaning of cricket. It also may explain why my only friends are 65-year-old divorcees.

 

What is particularly alarming is that these franchises know they have players wrapped around their fingers and now are exploiting them at the cost of countries. Franchises are trying to offer contracts that would let them dictate when the players could play for their countries. Imagine how irrational that would be. It’s like Wayne Rooney’s mum telling him he can’t play in the World Cup because he hasn’t tidied his room. Rajasthan Royals owner Manoj Badale suggested last year that Test cricket could become a niche annual occasion similar to Wimbledon. To play for England used to be the greatest honour for athletes, but now we are letting clubs tell players they cannot play at all, and the players submit simply because the franchises have the money. The English Cricket Board’s spending on salaries has massively increased in recent years – more than doubling from £25.8m in 2018-19 to £57.4m in 2022-23 – and the need to increase payments to top players is sure to push that figure further upwards. Where does it end? And why do I not get paid for playing over-60s village cricket?

 

This financial greed is also evident in golf. Golf has to be one of the least interesting sports to watch, rivalled only by field hockey and watching paint dry. Nonetheless, there are lessons to take from the fiscal feud that has enveloped the game. Following the same pattern as the aforementioned football and cricket, the Saudi-funded ‘LIV Golf’ has led players astray from the legendary PGA Tour. How, you may ask, are they doing this? Money. Not just money, but a very substantial amount of it. Jon Rahm, one of the best in the world, accepted £450 million to become the world's highest-paid athlete. There is no reason why this decision would make sense, except for the money. To quote most of my teachers at school, ‘This is very disappointing’. The reason why Tiger Woods has 15 major championships and Jack Nicklaus has 18 is that they worked their way up and competed against the best golfers in the world to cement their status as legends. Now some of the best golfers are playing against weaker players who have taken the money, the easy way out. Where is the desire for glory, to be a true winner against your peers? I do feel a sense of disappointment when watching golf (yes, I watch it, no one’s perfect) and knowing that the players’ focus won’t be on the trophy as the ultimate prize, but on the money and sponsorships that they will receive. 

 

I think it is fair to say that most athletes participate in their respective sports to make as much money as they can, rather than for the plaudits and success that they can achieve. Could you say the same of the sportspeople of yesteryear? I think not. This sad truth has become a realisation in the 21st century, and with wages growing exponentially, the question must be asked, at what point does it stop?