Not so much a big fish in a small pond as a whale in a puddle. Allen Stanford’s wealth dwarfs Antigua’s annual gross domestic product by a cool three quarters of a billion US dollars. Beyond its shores, Antigua might be known only for producing outstanding cricketers, offshore banks, gambling, tourism and politicians who have sailed not so much close to the wind as into the eye of the storm, but Stanford has an interest in those areas — although he would insist his $100 million (about £63 million) investment with the ECB and the West Indies Cricket Board for five years of Twenty20 cricket is no mere gamble.

He owns an offshore and an onshore bank here, had a close association for many years with Lester Bird, the former Antigua Prime Minister, before falling foul of Baldwin Spencer, Bird’s successor, and is by some distance its largest private employer. Cricket, though, is his present squeeze and Twenty20 cricket at that, being as far from a convert to the longer form of the game as it is possible to be. And while his involvement in the game has yet to help to restore the region’s cricketing lustre, it has not been for a lack of effort, will or funds.

The most obvious example of his passion is what is sometimes referred to — another snub in the direction of the traditionalists, this — as the SCG, not the Sydney Cricket Ground but the Stanford Cricket Ground. It is, indisputably, the nicest ground on the island, a lush-green, palm-fringed affair conveniently built next to the airport, which services Caribbean Star, Stanford’s airline, on one side and the Bank of Antigua, his onshore bank, on the other. The area feels like a private fiefdom.

And for much of the first evening of this week-long event, it was a feeling confirmed whenever the cameras panned on to Stanford, smiling beatifically down from his balcony (he bears an uncanny resemblance to a jowly, middle-aged Basil Fawlty), or mixing with the crowd and cooing in the ears of bemused youngsters. As well as feeding his present obsession, this is a gilt-edged PR opportunity, for himself and his brand, in front of a global audience that his organisation estimates to be about 700 million.

He has said that the inspiration for building his ground came when he saw airport employees playing cricket on scrub land. Not so much scrub now, as a world-class facility. A facility, moreover, that is not what you might expect of a man who, in June, landed a gold-plated personalised helicopter at Lord’s, trailing a crate stuffed with $20 million in his wake. It is a rather understated, homely thing — apart from the $50,000 Verdin clock that sits at the top of the pavilion. Rich men’s tastes are not hidden for long.

When Stanford first decided to throw his chequebook in with the ECB, toilets, he said, were the clinching factor. After visiting the loos in the ECB offices and emerging impressed by their cleanliness (thank goodness negotiations didn’t take place at Headingley Carnegie), he was sure that he was dealing with a good business. If only today’s distressed banks had taken the same precautions with their mortgage offers. Those of you hoping for a little graffiti or mess in the loos of Stanford’s fiefdom will be disappointed: they are immaculate. The ground is, too, with hordes of workers swooping down after the final ball, so that within 20 minutes of the close of play not a scrap of litter can be seen. This is a serious operation.

In some ways, the fate of Antigua’s three main grounds encapsulates the story of cricket here. The Antigua Recreation Ground, the old Test ground in the middle of St John’s, a magnificent ramshackle affair that routinely staged the most atmospheric matches, has been bypassed. The ground that witnessed the emergence of Viv Richards and Curtly Ambrose, giants both, and played host to Brian Lara’s twin world-record Test scores, stands as a forlorn monument to an era of West Indies cricket that has passed — and for all Stanford’s largesse, is unlikely to be revisited.

Its successor, the Sir Vivian Richards Stadium, is a utilitarian, concrete bowl, built for the ICC World Cup in 2007 in the middle of no man’s land and is inconvenient for the working masses. It stages soulless international matches and stands as a testament to clouded thinking by those who run the game in this region.

Between what West Indies cricket once was and what it has become, Stanford saw a chasm that represented an opportunity. As families watched the opening match on Saturday in comfort and in the knowledge that they were partaking in something vibrant, it was clear where the balance of power now lies. Cricket in the Caribbean was ripe for plucking.