Scotland’s Warning is the Caribbean’s Reality

Scotland’s Warning is the Caribbean’s Reality

Issue No 19

Scotland just admitted something most small cricket nations hide: without coordinated funding, their entire system is about to run out of fuel. Junior pathways, women’s cricket, high-performance programmes — all on the brink. And this is in a developed country with stronger public funding traditions than anything we have in the Caribbean.

So here’s the uncomfortable question.
If Scotland can’t sustain elite cricket without government intervention, how are twelve Caribbean nations expected to fund a single regional team on sponsorships and goodwill?

This isn’t charity. It’s survival math.

Cricket Scotland’s message is simple: small markets can’t keep elite sport alive through private sponsorship alone. Their Running on Empty campaign asks government for direct support because without it, the sport collapses at the roots. Elite programmes drain cash. Commercial returns are limited. And national pride doesn’t pay salaries.

Cricket Scotland’s message is simple: small markets can’t keep elite sport alive through private sponsorship alone. Their Running on Empty campaign asks government for direct support because without it, the sport collapses at the roots. Elite programmes drain cash. Commercial returns are limited. And national pride doesn’t pay salaries.

Sound familiar?

The Caribbean faces the same structural problem — but with more complexity. Multiple sovereign nations. Different political priorities. Different economies. And still one regional cricket product trying to compete with India, England, and Australia. Scotland’s appeal becomes useful because it removes the stigma. If a nation with a stronger tax base, stable funding culture, and fewer geographic burdens cannot survive without coordinated public investment, then the Caribbean’s situation isn’t mismanagement. It’s math.

Three parallels stand out clearly.

First, small markets can’t fund high performance on their own. Scotland has a population of 5.4 million. Most Caribbean nations fall under that. None of us have the corporate depth to absorb the rising cost of modern sport: analytics, staff, welfare, facilities, women’s pathways. When Scotland says elite sport drains more money than it generates, the Caribbean should listen. It’s the same story, just with more flags.

Second, sport delivers more value than it earns. Scotland’s argument hinges on impact beyond revenue: national identity, community engagement, grassroots participation, wellbeing. Cricket in the Caribbean hits those points even harder. It’s memory, pride, diaspora connection, and the last remaining global stage where the region competes as one. If Scotland can position sport as a public good, the Caribbean should stop pretending it’s a purely commercial product.

Third, shared challenges justify shared investment. Scotland frames it as a national responsibility. For the Caribbean, the Unity Dividend you proposed sits in the same logic. One regional team. Shared global benefits. Shared decline if we don’t intervene. The Dividend isn’t a bailout. It’s a structured, transparent funding mechanism to stabilise the ecosystem. Exactly what Scotland wants — just customised for a region instead of one nation.

This lets us shift the narrative.
Government support isn’t charity.
Corporate support isn’t a handout.
It’s the only realistic way for small, fragmented markets to remain competitive in a global sports economy that has outgrown their commercial capacity.

If Scotland doesn’t receive funding, its programmes shrink. If the Caribbean doesn’t build the Unity Dividend, we keep patching holes with short-term fixes. Both situations come down to one truth: stories and memories don’t finance performance. Funding does.

Scotland’s call is a warning.
A calm, polite version of the Caribbean reality.
If they’re running on empty, we’re running on fumes.

If Scotland can admit that elite sport in small markets needs coordinated public investment to survive, should the Caribbean make the same leap? Or is the region still too politically divided to support a shared funding model like the Unity Dividend? I’d love to hear your take.

If you think this conversation matters, share it with someone who cares about the future of Caribbean cricket. You can reply anytime or connect with me on LinkedIn. Let’s keep building the clubhouse together.