It’s probably the water,” the visiting speaker, tongue-in-cheek and politically incorrect, said. “Maybe Tamil Nadu will start winning the Ranji Trophy once it receives enough Kaveri water,” he added in response to my question why the State was unable to translate talent into performance despite handsome support from corporates and the cricket administration.

The occasion was the launch of my book on Tamil Nadu cricket in 2002. Nothing much has changed since. In fact, the last two seasons have been disastrous, with the State team failing to qualify for the knock-out rounds of the tournament.

Tamil Nadu last won the national championship in 1987-88, and that was only its second title since the tournament began in 1934. Of talent there seems no shortage in the State, and sportspersons below the international level have never had it better anywhere, at least in the subcontinent. In Chennai, a cricketer good enough to compete in the first division of the TNCA league is assured of livelihood security of a high order, excellent training and practice facilities, qualified coaches and physical trainers devoted to individual teams, and a systematic process of talent identification and promotion.

Coaches have come and gone, and captains and team members have been handpicked and nurtured at the State level, the senior league matches are played over three days, there is no shortage of the shorter format games either, inclusion in the Chennai Super Kings has bred a new avatar of cricketer, confident, innovative and introduced to winning ways by a dynamic captain – yet the Ranji Trophy remains elusive as ever for the State.

Many reasons have been cited, ranging from complacency and the result of being pampered to the lack of the killer instinct endemic to a laidback lifestyle that does not require a young player to commute miles by packed train to daily net practice. One theory floating around suggests that the trouble lies with the lack of consistency in selection, excessive chopping and changing of the personnel on the field and off it. “I have watched Tamil Nadu in Ranji cricket for over 15 years, and it never plays the same eleven for two consecutive matches,” claims a supporter who has given up hope. Some critics accuse Tamil Nadu cricketers of arrogance, of being strangers to the team ethic of successful sides. This year, the State captain has himself deplored the lack of commitment of his men, in a newspaper article.

The worrisome aspect of the recent debacle has been that Tamil Nadu’s worst performances came at home, on wickets tailored to suit its players. The team consistently failed to exploit conditions expected to suit its team. For example, visitors performed better on turning tracks than our own spinners.

True, Tamil Nadu missed the services of its ace spinner R. Ashwin, who was away doing national duty, but what of the other slow bowlers? Did their lack of experience prove their undoing? Was the captain, once a champion pace bowler, known for his fighting spirit and ability to turn matches around, the weak link in the attack? Or, as one keen observer of the State team’s fortunes believes, is the race for the Palayampatti Shield for the TNCA league, with doctored wickets – flat ones against strong opponents and nasty turners against weak ones – responsible for the State team’s lack of preparedness beyond local skirmishes? Another observer squarely blames the regular failure of the team’s leading batsmen at crucial junctures for Tamil Nadu’s poor show.

One critic wonders whether the unseemly rivalries in the local league blind both players and their patrons to the need for cohesion and team spirit when the same players turn out for Tamil Nadu. Going further, yet another long-time cricket watcher insists that Tamil Nadu always lacked the mental qualities needed to win on the national stage, that most of its representatives are paper tigers, happiest when the stakes are low. He rues the very culture here that celebrates individualists and ignores team men.

Do we need to make radical changes in the structure of local cricket to bind the players into a fighting unit? Is there a way we can ensure that the State’s best talents play together more often, even outside the Ranji Trophy arena, than at present? One solution would be the de-corporatisation of the local league by whatever means the administration has at its disposal and fielding two State teams – as in the Buchi Babu tournament – in the senior division league, so that the same 12 are together in each of those two sides for the duration of the league season. The other ten teams can be made up of players drawn from the existing teams backed by companies, with a ceiling of four players from any one business house. This way, the home team advantage will be taken out of the equation, and the matches can be more evenly fought.

This plan is naturally fraught with the risk of running into all manner of challenges and will need a major overhaul of mindsets and structures. It may even be dismissed outright as naïve and impractical. The grim fact is that Tamil Nadu cricket needs drastic remedies for its chronic ills which have only ensured that it has won the Ranji Trophy just two times in the history of the championship. My proposal can at least be the starting point for experts to sit together and draw up a master plan with the singular objective of triumph in the Ranji Trophy. Such a plan is long overdue, for nowhere else in Indian sport has so much been invested by so many in one game with so little to show for it.