Meghalaya Ranji Team and the High Court Order: Selection Control Battle Puts Players' Futures at Stake

The order of October 30 was nothing short of an earthquake for the Meghalaya Cricket Association (MCA). The Meghalaya High Court handed control of 'cricketing affairs, including selection' to the MCA president's faction. The result: the Meghalaya team that walked out against Nagaland in the fourth round of the Ranji Trophy was completely new. This was no ordinary selection shuffle—it was a wholesale team change ordered by a court, replacing a side that was unbeaten this season. I have seen several such junctures in domestic cricket over the past few years where administrative decisions have made more noise than on-field results. But this Meghalaya case is different. The question here is not who won or lost—the question is who had the right to decide who plays. And when courts start deciding that right, players become the weakest link in the equation. The Ranji Trophy Plate Group is the second tier of the domestic structure—squads are thin, back-up is limited, and continuity is the key to success. Meghalaya had gathered 12 points in three rounds—on the back of one win and two draws. This performance shows that the team that was removed was not just playing, it was playing well. In such a scenario, replacing the entire team just before the fourth round was a self-defeating move from a sporting perspective. The new selectors had neither the time to prepare nor to assess the players. It is important to understand how points are awarded in the Ranji Trophy. You don't get three points for a win; points are also awarded for a first-innings lead. A total of 12 points means the team won at least one match and took first-innings leads in the others. That was a strong start. Replacing that team was not just an administrative decision—it was a direct assault on that team's performance. Now look at the side the court upheld. The High Court order came in favour of the president's faction, which means the court challenged the selection process led by the secretary and upheld the president's authority. But the real question is: did the court decide which players are better? No. The court only decided who has the right to select. From a sporting perspective, this is a hollow verdict, because courts do not assess on-field performance. BCCI secretary Devajit Saikia's statement is the most striking part of this entire matter. He said the board had no option but to abide by the High Court order. This statement is technically correct—following the law is the board's responsibility. But it also shows that the board did not try to resolve the dispute, but accepted the court's decision as a fact to be merely implemented. In my experience, disputes in state associations in domestic cricket often revolve around selection control. This right is not just about sport, but also about livelihood—who gets a Ranji cap, who gets a contract, whose career takes off. When this right starts being decided in court, players are the first to suffer. The players who worked hard for Meghalaya across three rounds were suddenly out—not on the basis of form, not on the basis of performance, but because of a legal battle. There is another aspect that often goes unnoticed. Plate Group teams lack depth. When you change the entire team, many players come in who may never have played at the Ranji level or who were out of the side for a long time. A drop in performance is inevitable. But the blame for this decline will be placed on the players, while the real reason is administrative chaos. I am not saying the court order was wrong. Legally, it may be correct. But from a sporting perspective, it is an intervention that derailed a season mid-way. And the biggest irony is that the players' voices are nowhere to be heard in this entire dispute. No player issued a statement, no one expressed their displeasure. Everything was decided between administrators, the court, and the board. This case is a warning for the BCCI. If such judicial interventions in state associations continue, the entire domestic cricket structure could weaken. The board should create a clear mechanism for disputes in state associations, so that issues like selection do not reach the courts. For Meghalaya, this season is now a test—not just on the field, but off it as well. A team that had made a good start is now completely changed. New players have an opportunity, but the old players have only questions. And even when the administrative battle ends, its impact will remain on some players' careers. This is the biggest tragedy of domestic cricket—here, outcomes are decided not on the field, but in meetings.