The Sanction on Kumar Sangakkara: An Audit of the ICC Disciplinary Process and Structural Questions for Cricket Asia

Even after the match referee's final ruling was published, the debate has not ended. One incident, two interpretations, and a question standing in between — was the sanction determined by the letter of the law, or by an interpretation of it? My habit in any disputed decision is always the same: minute first, then law number, then replay, then verdict. That order is what preserves the value of the ledger, because when emotion comes first, evidence falls behind. In the two decades I have tracked board sanctions and code-of-conduct cases, the most frequent error has been about timelines. Who filed the complaint, within how many days the response came, how far in advance the hearing notice was issued — if these three dates do not align, every other analysis rests on weak ground. What became clear in this March 2026 case is that the process moved quickly, but the documents of the process entered the public domain slowly. That gap is now the central point of discussion. The case against Kumar Sangakkara must be examined in three layers: the nature of the charge, the basis of the match referee's decision, and the appeal deadline. At the first layer, the question is which article of the code of conduct the charge falls under. Each sub-article from 2.1 to 2.10 carries a different scale of sanction. Many analysts begin with the maximum penalty, yet if the record cites a less serious article, that is where the real debate should centre. At the second layer is the referee's jurisdiction — which types of incident he can decide directly and which require a hearing is clearly written in the playing conditions. At the third layer is the appeal window: if no appeal is filed within a specified number of days of receiving notice, the decision becomes final. I keep these three dates in separate columns in my book, because if one date changes, the entire interpretation of the incident changes. In my experience, the biggest confusion for audiences in such cases arises for two reasons. First, the announcement of the sanction and the reasoning behind it are not published together. Second, media reports use phrases like 'harsh sanction' or 'overreaction' without citing the article number. In both cases, readers begin to mistake an assumption for a fact. Since 2026 I have followed one rule in every major decision — I do not write a verdict until I have seen both the article and the date in the original document. In the current reality of Cricket Asia this rule is even more important, because boards in different countries respond to similar incidents at different speeds, and that difference in speed is often mistaken for bias. One factual point should be kept in mind: the ICC code-of-conduct process is not a criminal trial. The standard of proof here is set on 'comfortable satisfaction', which is lower than the criminal 'reasonable doubt' but far higher than ordinary assumption. Without understanding this distinction, discussion of the severity of sanctions becomes meaningless. I have seen many times that when a former player or commentator says 'this was not proven', he is actually applying a criminal standard to a sporting regulation — a procedurally incorrect application. Now comes the part where the ledger and emotion collide. The question is not only whether the sanction was right — the question is why the announcement of the sanction and the reasoning were published on separate schedules. If the article of the charge and the reasons for the decision were released on the same day, the market for rumour would shrink. But when the announcement comes first and the explanation later, control of the narrative during the intervening period passes to social media. In my view, this gap is not a procedural defect — it is a communications choice. And every choice carries accountability. Some analysts have argued that for a senior player like Sangakkara the severity of the sanction should have been lower. I partially agree, but conditionally. Seniority is not a legal basis for waiving a sanction; it can affect the process only when the regulations contain a specific sub-article on 'the player's record'. To my knowledge, the relevant ICC article allows consideration of prior conduct, but it is not mandatory — it is at the referee's discretion. This is the real debate: where the limits of discretion lie. If a regulation says 'may', then the transparency of the decision depends on whether reasons are stated in writing. Without reasons, the distinction between personal discretion and procedural decision erases. Another observation of mine that many skip: in such cases the role of the board is often hidden. How strongly the board provided legal support to the player, who represented him at the hearing, whether an appeal was decided upon — these questions usually do not surface. Yet in international cricket the board's resources and legal capacity are far greater than the player's. As a result, players from different countries receive different levels of protection for the same charge. This is not an allegation against any individual; it is a simple accounting of structural inequality. In the Cricket Asia context this inequality is more pronounced, because smaller boards often lack a permanent legal department. I do not think the sanction in this case was 'wrong'. I think the reasoning behind it was not published clearly enough and quickly enough. The difference between these two is vast, and in media discussion that difference is often lost. To judge with a referee's eye, one must ask: will the decision stand by the letter of the regulation? If the answer is yes, the next question is — will the reasons for the decision stand by the same standard? The answer to that second question remains uncertain. At the same time, it must be recorded in the ledger that part of the criticism of Sangakkara is entirely irrelevant. His commentary career, his popularity, or the cricket politics of his country — none of these is evidence in determining the truth of the charge. I have seen many times that when a popular figure faces an allegation, supporters look at the personality rather than the process. The reverse also happens: some, carrying old grievances, accept any sanction as justified. Both are the same trap — feeling instead of evidence. On regulatory reform, a proposal has long sat in my book, and this case has again proved its relevance. The proposal: every code-of-conduct decision must mandatorily publish four pieces of information — the article of the charge, the time of the incident (match minute or over), the time of the decision, and the reasons for the decision. When these four are public, the space for rumour shrinks and analysts can discuss process instead of personal attack. Some sports bodies have already adopted a partial version of this model, and there the intensity of decision-related controversy has measurably declined. Another point particularly relevant for Cricket Asia: the lack of coordination in disciplinary processes among boards in the same region. A warning for the same conduct in one country and a match ban in another creates uncertainty for players and appears as evidence of bias to fans. A common disciplinary guideline among regional boards would reduce this uncertainty considerably. It is difficult to implement because the internal politics of each board differ. But difficult does not mean impossible. One entry in my book for this case remains incomplete — the outcome of the appeal. Until that entry is filled, no final verdict can be written. Because the ledger never lies; it only waits for the right cross-examination. And the first question of that cross-examination will be: in those eight days between announcement and explanation, who wrote what, and who controlled that writing. This case, in the end, is a test of process, not of a person. If in the coming months the appeal process proves transparent, deadlines are met, and reasons are published in writing, then this incident will increase confidence in the regulations. If instead the explanation does not come, reasons are not written, or deadlines are crossed, then the question will arise not about one decision but about the credibility of the entire process. The lesson for Cricket Asia lies here: however harsh the sanction, if the process stays in the dark, both players and fans are harmed. When the next notice arrives is now the thing to watch.