Paul Nixon exclusive: I was offered £5m to fix a cricket match

By Paul Nixon

Published: 18:28 EST, 30 June 2012 | Updated: 18:28 EST, 30 June 2012

May 2010. Leicester’s plush Marriott Hotel. Two men sit at a table in a discreet corner of the bar. One is in his early forties, Indian, suited and confident. The other a veteran English sportsman in a state of shock.

‘So…what sort of money are you talking about here?’ the sportsman enquires. ‘Name your price’ the businessman replies. ‘Go on, how much?’ ‘You tell me.’ ‘Well, I don’t know…a million?’ This is clearly an absurd suggestion. The Indian laughs. ‘More.’ ‘More?’ ‘More.’ ‘OK…three million?’ Another grin. ‘More.’ ‘Five million?’ Beaming smile. ‘No problem. Absolutely, no problem.’

The meeting ends with a handshake and a promise to meet again in the near future. The sportsman strides to his car with his head in a fuzz and wonders: did that just happen?

Some years ago I became involved in a property development in the Bahamas. Port St George is a major project on Long Island, a luxury development that includes a marina, golf course, hotel and hundreds of homes. It’s an exciting investment.

Telling all: Paul Nixon reveals how he was offered vast sums of money to fix a cricket match in his autobiography

I’ve always been fascinated by property, enjoying the challenge of knowing when and where to invest. I curse not buying a place in South Africa. We went for a place in Spain, and South Africa’s housing market went berserk. 

During my time playing in the Indian Cricket League, a common pastime was to look at Indian property websites. I sent a few emails to different companies. One morning in 2009 my inbox contained a message from an old Championship sparring partner. 

He was involved with one  of the Indian property companies I had contacted and urged me to hook up with his company. This led to a meeting in a London hotel involving me, a friend from the Port St George project, and an Indian man, K.

K could not have been more  enthusiastic about our Bahamas scheme and declared his interest in buying 100 plots. Over a period of months, always in London but in different hotels, K’s interest never faded, and a friendly, working  rapport was established.

It was that October, while driving with my wife, Jen, to London, the first surprise was sprung. K called my mobile and declared he had an ‘anniversary gift’ to give us. ‘Don’t be daft, you don’t need to do that,’ I replied. ‘Please, I insist. I am in India, but my brother has it. He will give you a call.’

We pulled off the M1 and met K’s brother in the Holiday Inn, Brent Cross. He presented me with a large gift-wrapped box. It was a strange gesture from a man I hardly knew, but it seemed harmless enough. Back at home, we unwrapped the gift to find a pristine collection of Vera Wang champagne flutes. Happy anniversary indeed!

Autumn and winter drifted by — more meetings, sporadic contact with K — and then, in May, my phone trilled. ‘I’d love to have a chat about a new business idea.’ I offered to meet in the Leicester Marriott.

On May 21, I strolled through the hotel’s glass doors and was greeted by K. We traded pleasantries, sat down with drinks and he briefed me about his business idea.

‘A lot of people have made a lot of money in India,’ he began. ‘And you could make a lot of money in England also.’

He wasn’t talking property; he was talking cricket matches in India that were rigged. Dozens of them, he claimed. He explained how I could become rich if I was prepared to help throw a Twenty20 game in England. ‘You have a couple of TV games coming up, yes?’ We did — a Sky Sports match at Durham on June 14 was one. ‘That is the time to make it work.’

International honours: Nixon in action for England against Australia in 2007's tri-series

He made it plain that if I could help things go a certain way in that game, I could make myself very wealthy. All English televised games are beamed back to India, he explained, fuelling an underground betting market worth billions. If I was able to arrange it so that we lost the first six overs, I would be quids in. If I could influence the coin toss, all the better. And should I manage to fix the result, I could become  stupidly rich. ‘Are you serious?’ I enquired. By the time he had made it clear I could access £5million for myself and my team if I was able to organise a Twenty20 game to his wishes, my head was swirling. If I had gone higher in my bizarre haggling game, I got the feeling he would have come with me.

I thought: Christ, what am I doing here? I want out of this hotel. This isn’t for me. But I stayed. I wanted to know more. Who, exactly, was K? What were his  connections? I was shocked by his offer but addicted to its detail.

K went on to observe that Leicestershire’s poor form on TV was key to his scheme. Television cameras at Grace Road had become increasingly unwelcome, once our early Twenty20 successes had passed. In 2010 the club was not a happy place and the results followed accordingly, especially, it seemed, when Sky showed up. So the theory that Leicestershire losing an apparently random game on TV wouldn’t arouse any suspicion was pretty sound. Any tracks could be covered by our mediocrity.

‘This property arrangement in Bahamas,’ said K. ‘What a great way of hiding your money.’ ‘How do you mean, hiding?’ ‘Well, every player who has been involved in this type of thing has a nice place in India, or Dubai. The Indian property market is driven by cash. There is always a way of hiding money over there.’

He had one more request. To do what he wanted me to do, I would need the team on board. The openers would have to ‘lose’ the first six overs, and the bowlers would have to send down an allotted amount of rubbish in order to squander the game. It would have to be a group effort.

‘So, will you talk to the team?’ ‘Yeah … I’m not sure … We’ll see how it goes.’

I knew with 100 per cent certainty I wasn’t going to accept the offer, but kept bouncing the possibilities around in my head during the drive home. 

Solid: Nixon and wife Jen before his benefit dinner

When I told Jen, she said: ‘You can’t get involved in that.’ I phoned Tim Boon (Leicestershire coach), the PCA, the ICC Anti-Corruption and Security Unit, (Leicestershire captain) Matthew Hoggard  and (former England captain) Michael Vaughan, who said: ‘Nico, I hate this stuff with a passion. We have got to stop this crap coming into English cricket. It absolutely sickens me.’

An Anti-Corruption officer flew from Dubai. We met — where else? — at the Marriott. He explained he had been involved with Hansie’s (Cronje) case and the Bob Woolmer investigation. He asked me to explain what happened. I answered as fully as I could. ‘We’ll be in touch if we need more,’ he said.

When K next called, he told me he was on his way from London to Leicester and asked if we could meet. May 26 saw the sportsman sitting in the passenger seat of a car in Leicestershire’s Grace Road car park as the Indian businessman tried to close the dodgy deal.

‘There are four other counties involved in this,’ K said. ‘Really?’ I enquired. ‘Yes, I promise you.’ ‘I doubt that.’ ‘Trust me.’ ‘Who are they?’ ‘I can’t say.’

Stalwart: Nixon was a hero for Leicestershire across two stints for the county

He mentioned the IPL, claiming that that competition wasn’t as sweet and innocent as it looked. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘we would love you to come on board with this. I have some money with me, in the boot, just as a thank-you stage…’ He reached to open his door. ‘No,’ I stopped him. ‘You don’t have to do that. Look, it’s early days, yeah? Let’s just wait and see how it goes.’

The truth is I was feeling vulnerable. I still had no idea about who I was dealing with. I did my best to stall K, to keep him at arm’s length, and we ended much as we had in the Marriott.

‘Look, let me talk to the lads. I’ll come back to you,’ I said.

The mood was never less than friendly, but I was relieved to get out of his car and head home.

For the next few days I chewed things over with Jen and lost sleep wondering if I had done the right things and talked to the right  people. That week I chatted to some of the players and put the dressing room in the picture. All responded with eyebrows raised.

I also confided in Tim (Boon) and Hoggy (Hoggard) about the car park meeting.

The next call was from me to K. ‘Look, K, I’ve talked to the lads. We’re not interested. We can’t get involved.’

K said calmly: ‘If you know  anyone who might be interested, you have my number.’

And that was that. I’ve never heard another peep from K and nothing more from the Anti- Corruption Unit. I went off to Chester-le-Street as though nothing had ever happened.

What actually happened in the game they tried to fix

It was not exactly a good era for Leicestershire and we were well and truly taken to the cleaners in the north-east.

Durham had some proper heavyweights in their line-up in Colly (Paul Collingwood), Benky, (Dale Benkenstein), (Liam) Plunkett, Steve Harmison, Phil Mustard and Ian Blackwell.

They also had Ross Taylor, who batted us into tiny smithereens. His 80 from 33 balls was the most ferocious Twenty20 innings you could imagine.

We limped home in second place, my contribution was a single run from three balls, and the bus journey back to Grace Road was full of gallows humour.

‘Christ, boys, we could have made a fortune out of that game!’ ‘A few hundred grand down the drain there!’

‘Went around the park there ... next time tell him we’ll do it!’

But it still felt good, better than the average thrashing is ever allowed to feel, because I was heading home with a clear conscience.

Keeping Quiet - Paul Nixon: The Autobiography is published by The History Press, price £17.99. To order your copy at the special price of £14.99 with free p&p, please call the Review Bookstore on 0843 382 1111 or visit www.mailshop.co.uk/books.

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