KEY POINTS:
Cowardice is a strong word but the label can be fairly hung around the necks of the Australian and Indian cricket teams and the International Cricket Council after the recent racism farce.
It was cowardly of the Australians, the team that elevated sledging to an art form; masters of the don't-walk and appeal-even-if-it's-not-out philosophy, to run crying to Mother when an Indian supposedly used the word 'monkey' to describe Andrew Symonds. Talk about dishing it out but not being able to take it.
It was cowardly of the Indians to rationalise that 'monkey' is not a bad word in India but that 'bastard' (supposedly uttered by Brad Hogg) is. It was also cowardly to send a message home calling for the full wrath of the BCCI to rain down upon Australia. The newly powerful meets old school arrogance.
Finally, it was cowardly of the ICC to throw umpire Steve 'Slow Death' Bucknor to the wolves after all the hubbub then fall back on 'process' to elongate matters so banned Indian spinner Harbhajan Singh can play in the remaining series. Talk about expediency.
Yes, there is sophistry and facile solutions all through this inglorious chapter. Indian captain Anil Kumble's famous "only one side played in the spirit of the game" was wrong. There was precious little of the spirit of cricket seen anywhere in this charmless and childish episode.
It has been thus for some time. In many respects, cricket is the game time forgot. The old gentlemanly ethics and honourable conduct have been long undone by the harsher tenets of professional cricket - and we are not just pointing the bone at the Australians here.
So when the 'spirit of the game' breaks down to the extent it did in Sydney, there is nowhere to hide and no way to deal with such excesses. Cricket and cricketers look petty and trivial. It might spike ratings in the short-term but try selling it long-term on 'monkey' and 'bastard' and people burning effigies in India.
The game looks even more lost when it sacrifices an umpire like Bucknor to satisfy the baying mob. Bucknor was well past his use-by date and it didn't help matters that control of the match rested with men who didn't see that Ricky Ponting was out and that Rahul Dravid wasn't - and who didn't hear any of the supposed mud-slinging.
But cricket and the ICC have had the answer for decades and not acted. Those of us who return to the subject of technology time and again risk sounding like crashing bores.
John Mortimer, creator of Rumpole Of The Bailey, characterised the crusty old barrister describing jury members as 12 puzzled old darlings pulled in off the street.
Umpires are surely of the same ilk. Puzzled old darlings who can't keep up with the speed of the ball or the sound of the nick or who can't resist the none-too-subtle urgings of the Australians.
They make their decision to the best of their ability and under a great deal of pressure - and are then shown up by Hawk-Eye or Snicko or some such gizmo.
The game's stubborn embrace of human error is puzzling. Here's a thought: why not adopt technology as an official arbiter? Why not ensure that the right result is gained?
Use the technology to send Ponting on his way or to recall Dravid. It's not wrong to correct the umpires. But it is wrong to dismiss a batsman who shouldn't have been gone or to let one stay who was patently and obviously out.
That's not sport, it's incompetence. If the technology had been used in Sydney, would the feelings have run so high and would the monkey business have started?
Then there's the problem of adjudicating on such matters. No umpire, apparently, heard any of the bad words being bandied about. That left cricket at about the same level as a "you-did, I-didn't" schoolyard spat.
Here's another thought: these cricketers are paid a lot of money. They must bear responsibility too. So mike them. That's right. Wire' em up. And record them, so the racists and the super-sledgers can be hit where it hurts the most - the pocket - with big fines if they cross the line.
I'd go even further. Let their comments be heard. There is nothing inherently wrong with sledging and, in its best form, it is witty and pungent - without descending to matters of race and parentage. It would also bring the fan closer to the player and to let them see, if the players dared, who is the bully and who is the rabbit.
But cricket won't do that. TV would - it'd be great for ratings - but cricket, like many sports, will cling to its closed-door policy.
The Singh hearing was conducted in secret. We'll never know the rights and the wrongs of it. We can hear murder trials, rapes and horrendous child bashing cases in public but apparently, the worst excesses of cricket are too horrible for our ears.
The game not only needs to enter the 21st century fully, it needs to grow up and to stop being this horrible cartoon caricature of itself.
After all, if we want to watch grown men behaving witlessly and gracelessly, we've always got Dancing With The Stars.
