What is the point of an England team? Anyone who agrees with George Orwell that sport is “war minus the shooting”, and believes that a player wrapped in the Three Lions is the physical embodiment of the nation’s spirit and sense of self-worth, may prefer to look away for the next few months.

In particular on Saturday, November 1, when the England cricket team arrives at the Stanford Cricket Stadium in Antigua for the first of the annual Stanford Super Series matches against a Stanford Superstars XI brought together by Sir Allen (you’ve guessed it) Stanford. The Texan-born billionaire financier has written his name all over the event, including the winner-takes-all cheques – $1 million for each member of the victorious team.

For England supporters, Orwellian or not, an uncomfortable evening awaits. Will they be watching “their” team fighting for national hon-our and pride, as they have done for more than a century, or will they be watching a bunch of already comfortably well-off blokes seeking to extend their burgeoning property portfolios?

The drama and the tension will be there all right – how will James Anderson feel when he has to hit four off the last ball to bag the cash for himself and his team-mates? – but any thoughts of Queen and country will be some way down the batting order. And if the launch event at Lord’s in June, when Sir Allen arrived by helicopter on the Nursery ground, performed a presidential meet-and-greet, then wheeled out the wonga in a giant Perspex box, is any sort of indicator, then so will good taste and reserve. For the England cricket authorities, such concerns are dwarfed by their need to offer their players an alternative to the lure of the Indian Premier League. The recruitment drive for IPL II, to be staged at the start of the next English summer, will step up in the next few weeks and further test the fragile balance of power in world cricket.

At least at this stage Peter Moores, the England cricket coach, has a measure of control over the players’ movements through the central contract system. If Fabio Capello’s immersion in English culture has extended to watching Monty Python he will be inclined to mutter “bloody loox-shoory” at this point, albeit in an Italian accent. With England and the other home nations facing four World Cup qualifiers in the next five weeks, the £6 million-a-year England football coach is about to discover, if he hasn’t already, the meaning of the phrase il lavoro impossibile (the impossible job). He, too, will ponder the Orwell question; especially when he realises that a round of internationals is seen by the top clubs (Liverpool, for example) as the ideal time to send some of their England players (Steven Gerrard, perhaps?) to hospital for some nonurgent surgery.

The club v country wrangle is hardly news, but if Capello, the new hard man at the helm, is forced to give in over player release in this campaign then the game will finally be up. The return of the Champions League this month will serve only to underline the supremacy of the club game, That, and the opening of the cash pipeline from Abu Dhabi to Eastlands after the Arab takeover of Manchester City. Capello may cast envious eyes towards Moores and the Lord’s set-up, but if his vision extends to Twickenham he may feel he needs a new prescription for his personally endorsed Zerorh+ glasses.

England’s autumn rugby union international programme brings to town the three southern giants – South Africa, the world champions, New Zealand and Australia – as well as the Pacific Islands, and the return of Martin Johnson to the England camp in his new role as team manager. Just as with his jumping in the lineout as a player, Johnson’s timing is impeccable. Although he inherited a ragged regime, the historic agreement between the Rugby Football Union and the English clubs grants him a level of control over England players that Moores can relate to and Capello can only dream about.

Four years ago Sir Clive Woodward did dream of such things and was rudely awakened when his plans were stifled. The World Cup was still gleaming in the trophy cabinet but Woodward, disillusioned at not being able to get his own way, headed off.

Next month Woodward, in his new role as director of elite performance at the British Olympic Association (BOA), will find himself in a similar situation. Suddenly all talk of the legacy of 2012 has been consumed by concern over the legacy of 2008. The Beijing gold rush has forced the BOA, as well as the Government and the private sector, to readjust its targets for London and, crucially, where money should go to ensure that the success continues.

The progression from Sydney to Athens to Beijing proves that medals cost cash, which means putting a price on the feel-good factor that can be generated by sporting success. Maybe they should bring in Sir Allen whatsisname.