So, Abbott's logic was sound, quite possibly advised by senior players.
Drop the ball in short, cramp Hughes for room, and either draw him into a loose shot or at least unsettle his concentration for the next delivery - perhaps inducing an edge to the wicketkeeper or trapping him in front with a yorker.
Except there would not be another delivery.
Left with seven one-hundredths of a second to decide whether to duck or attack, Hughes opted to attack but mistimed his swing, already being through the pull shot with his head turned to the side when the ball struck the back of his neck, under the ear.
What happened next has only occurred 100 times in recorded medical history from all walks of life, and only once previously involving a cricket ball.
A main artery was compressed and split, causing massive bleeding to the brain - subarachnoid haemorrhage - a condition almost immediately fatal.
Medical staff did everything possible, including removing part of Hughes' skull to reduce swelling on the brain, but it was not enough.
As a sports scribe often tasked with saying the same thing three different ways to keep the reader interested in continuing through the column inches, I am well aware the word "tragic" is woefully misused.
It finds its way into the descriptions of an All Blacks defeat, or a leading Formula 1 driver forced to retire to pit lane because of a busted engine with the world championship in sight.
But this is the true, proper context and also a rational assessment for a shellshocked cricketing community wondering how to pick itself up - a tragic accident.
Abbott could, and I'm sure the devastated young man already has in his mind, bowl that bouncer 100 times to Hughes and through flight in the air, variation off the pitch, and timing of the stroke, it would have a completely different outcome on each occasion.
Just this month, Abbott's team mate Ben Rohrer took a similar blow from Victorian pace bowler Chris Tremain and was hospitalised, yet other than a nasty welt under the ear, was clear of any serious damage.
Just as they are united in grief, leading players around the world have moved to offer full support to the bowler and publicly state this is not his fault, which from comments made by those who knew him, is exactly what Hughes would have told the youngster, had he recovered.
"I've got a bat and he's got a ball, and I've always got to be better than the bloke with the ball," Hughes once said to broadcaster and friend Alan Jones.
In the short term, the authorities are taking all appropriate steps for player welfare - full counselling has been offered, the Black Caps and Pakistan suspended play for the day, the India vs Australia XI tour match was cancelled, and by press time the status of the upcoming first test between India and Australia will be known.
Long term, the bouncer still has its place in the sport, if used effectively and most importantly without a hint of genuine intent to injure, delivered by well-coached bowlers who have proved they have full control over their technique.
While there are few more safety measures that could be added, perhaps in the future design of batsmen's helmets, the biggest change I expect will be in mentality.
And that will be for the better.
In a game that has its roots on the village greens of English gentlemen, perhaps some of the ruthlessness which has pervaded the sport, on the field and off in terms of win-at-all-costs in pursuit of greater riches, will be tempered.
That's what this 25-year-old batsman would have wanted - he was known for being a selfless team mate, always looking out for the man beside him.
Every player in the past three days who has shared their memories, wept openly, or left tributes on social media, has made it crystal clear that in some small measure, their lives were better for having known Phillip Hughes.
Now, it is remembering Phillip Hughes, a young bloke who loved cricket and played it without a hint of malice, that will be for the better of the game.
