Note: This article was originally published on Friday 20 February

If it smells like a rat, scuttles like a rat, then . . . well you know the rest.

Had no-one in international cricket actually thought about that when slavering over the game's self-acclaimed saviour and benefactor Sir Allen Stanford? Or were they just too immersed in spending 'his' money?

Despite this week's disturbing revelations, Stanford wouldn't take kindly to such an assessment and at this stage no doubt will protest his investment company have done absolutely nothing wrong – although as of yesterday he couldn't be found.

While innocent until proven guilty, the publicity seeking Texan has suddenly found himself facing the kind of publicity which he probably didn't first envisage when he first aligned himself with the game – a mountain of evidence suggesting the millions of dollars he's hurled at the sport over the last few years didn't actually come out of his own pocket, but out of those belonging to hundreds of innocent investors.

The fraud investigation, of which he's the centre of attention, could ultimately send him behind bars and far more importantly make a huge impact on the development of the game, particularly in Bermuda.

It was with a sizeable chunk of Stanford's money – initially $100,000 – that Bermuda Cricket Board have been able to finance their various programmes, with the promise of more to come.

It's believed as much as $15,000 a month has been pouring into the BCB's kitty in an attempt to help develop the local game thanks to Stanford's 'generosity'.

The Caribbean 20/20 Tournament, in which Bermuda took a terrible first round beating (a low 20/20 record score) from Jamaica and then an even worse thrashing from Guyana a year later, still resulted in more cash flowing into the BCB bank account.

Other islands received a lot more.

Amidst a blaze of media coverage, Stanford offered every West Indies or England player a million dollars each in a winner-take-all 20/20 contest last year.

Needless to say the English lads are still paying off their mortgages.

But according to Stanford, the cash cow was still there to be milked.

Surrounding himself with the game's greats, Sir Viv Richards on one side, Sir Ian Botham on the other, he boasted he could popularise cricket through the big bucks 20/20 version of the game, like no other before.

Late Australian magnate Kerry Packer had the same idea, and it would be difficult to argue that he didn't do just that by revolutionising the sport through the 50-overs game, although his bullying tactics supported by enormous wealth, didn't endear himself to the game's traditional powers or, for that matter, those in the media.

(I can recall climbing a TV scaffolding tower in Perth, Australia in the early '70s where Packer was overlooking one of his first 50-over internationals to ask a few simple questions only to be told I had five seconds to climb back down before his size 13 boot despatched me via a quicker route.)

Stanford, on the other hand, has enjoyed almost sycophantic support from the world's governing body, the International Cricket Council (ICC), the English Cricket Board (ECB) and the West Indies Cricket Board (WICB), all of them eager to bow to his demands, no questions asked providing the cash kept coming.

Like the rest of us, weren't they just a little bit suspicious why a big 'ol Houston boy would suddenly want to become cricket's main man?

Despite professing his love for the game, in the Caribbean in particular, it's difficult to believe that anybody who's never played cricket, and until a few years ago had shown little interest, would be so enthusiastic.

Texans aren't normally associated with Test matches.

What was the catch? Perhaps, as the probe continues, we'll find out.

Money talks. In cricket's case, it spoke loud and clear.

Stanford has been rewarded with the celebrity status he yearned . . . allegedly at the expense of hundreds of others who have seen their life savings disappear.

It may be the Securities and Exchange Committee (SEC), who raided Stanford's luxurious Houston offices this week, have got it all wrong. In which case, the BCB and others can breathe a sigh of relief.

But if they haven't, the brakes might have to be applied to the 20/20 boom and the cricketers who were hoping to match the superstar earnings enjoyed by their football counterparts might have to ply their trade the old fashioned way . . . earn it.