The Big Bash League turns 15 this summer, a milestone that sneaks up on you if, like some current players, you can’t recall an Australian holiday period without the nightly whirl of coloured kits and fireworks. The competition, born in 2011, grew fast, stumbled in the late-2010s and has been climbing back since Covid restrictions eased.
“I’m seeing a lot of indicators that are showing it’s back at this sort of BBL 5-6 level,” Cricket Victoria chief Nick Cummins said last week. “For Stars and Renegades, ticket sales are up year on year since Covid, growing at about 20-30%.” Crowds of that earlier vintage included the still-record 80,000 who jammed the MCG for a Melbourne derby.
Even so, December–January is crowded now: a home men’s Test series, the women’s calendar, franchise leagues in South Africa and the UAE, plus the looming return of the ILT20. Against that backdrop Cricket Australia (CA) has dusted off a once-parked idea – selling stakes in, or the entirety of, the eight BBL clubs.
“Nothing is inevitable. Nothing has been ruled in or out. There is a lot of water to go under the bridge,” one administrator close to the talks told me. That hedged language masks genuine momentum. Senior figures inside Jolimont HQ have been studying other leagues, not least the ECB’s Hundred, where private equity is a live topic.
The privatisation notion is hardly new. Well before the Big Bash replaced the old state-based Twenty20 Cup, CA officials sounded out overseas investors. A senior IPL executive remembers it clearly. “There was a delegation from Australia, including reps from Cricket Australia and the Melbourne and Sydney franchises, that visited India before the start of the BBL,” he said. “We were made an offer for one of those teams, but I don’t think they had really thought it through in terms of the structure and how they would bring in private investment.”
“That was the closest we came to considering something there,” he added. “There has always been interest seeing how it has all unfolded and some of the challenges it has had.”
Back then CA chief James Sutherland was wary of losing control. Broadcasting money was healthy, crowds were booming, and the league felt, for want of a better phrase, safe in national hands. That posture shifted when Covid chewed a hole in cricket’s balance sheet. At the same time, richer T20 start-ups in the Gulf and South Africa began poaching the headline acts the BBL once attracted almost by default.
An obvious fear is repeating the mis-step of 2018-19, when the competition stretched to 59 matches and audience fatigue set in. Shortening the schedule to 44 games last summer helped. So did a conscious push for higher-quality overseas signings, even if some arrive for only three or four fixtures. Officials insist any new structure must protect that regained rhythm.
Players are watching closely, mindful of both opportunity and upheaval. A senior domestic pro, requesting anonymity so he could speak candidly, said: “If privatisation brings in more money for player payments and better scheduling, great. But lads also want clarity – we don’t want to turn up in October not knowing who owns the club or what the rules are.”
Commercial partners sense upside. One long-time sponsor, who has sat through the latest CA briefings, reckons outside capital could fund community programmes and stadium upgrades that “state associations simply can’t afford on their own”. Yet he also wonders who carries the risk if crowds dip again. “Private owners don’t like slow returns,” he noted.
There is a bigger, bolder idea floating around: expanding into New Zealand or even the Pacific to make the Big Bash a regional competition. That concept excites television executives, though logistics – flights, time zones, player release windows – remain gnarly.
Where, then, does this all land? Realistically the 2025-26 summer is the earliest we might see a partial sale, given due-diligence timelines. CA will have to square the state associations, reassure the players’ union, and satisfy a public that still sees the BBL as a family outing rather than a Wall Street vehicle.
For now the cricket starts again. Fireworks, high-tens, kids on school holidays – the familiar sights. Just don’t be surprised if, away from the middle, the biggest shots are being played across boardroom tables rather than boundary ropes.
