Tests need bit more biff
IF the statistics are to believed, then Test cricket should make an appointment to see Dr Philip Nitschke.
It is on a respirator, incapacitated, surrounded by its one-day international and Twenty20 offspring, who are waiting for the appropriate moment to pull the plug and reap the inheritance.
Ticket sales for the Test series against the West Indies are down and are unlikely to spike when Pakistan visits later in the summer.
The players still care about Tests. It adds credibility to their careers.
Ask Michael Bevan if he would have rather averaged 53.58 in Tests than ODIs and I’m sure he would have said yes.
But the public doesn’t seem as sold on the prestige of the five-day game anymore.
It’s time for a revamp. What’s the solution? Shorter playing days? Day-night Test cricket?
Possibly. But maybe the hour has arrived for more extreme action.
I saw footage last week of the Hulkamania press conference in Sydney when Hulk Hogan got smacked down by Ric Flair.
Chairs were thrown, tables were flipped and blood was shed during the carefully choreographed outbreak of PG-level violence.
Yes, I know wrestling is fake. Sorry if I’ve just blown the illusion for anybody out there but I assume people who think wrestling is real can’t read, clap when they see something shiny and/or attended a midnight screening of the new Twilight movie.
But despite its scripted nature wrestling at least knows how to promote itself and cause a spectacle.
Cricket chiefs take note. Maybe it’s time to inject some theatre into proceedings.
Let’s start with pre-match press conferences.
None of this waiting for a journalist to ask a question before politely replying.
I want Ricky Ponting to aggressively grab the microphone, glare into the camera and use expressions like "jibba jabba", "open a can of whoop ass" and "make their mommas cry" when talking about Australia’s chances against the Windies and Pakistan.
If any of the opposition players give some lip back, then Punter should go the biff like he did in that Kolkata nightclub back in 1999.
On the field, make every batsman walk out to aggressive rap music, wearing a cape is optional, surrounded by an entourage of gangland wannabes and buxom babes.
Also, mike every player so sledges can be heard through the ground’s speaker system.
That way the crowd can make up its own mind whether or not Harbhajan Singh says "maa ki" or "monkey".
Don’t forget the commentary box either.
It’s the perfect setting for all sorts of diabolical Melrose Place-esque plots and debauchery.
Does Richie Benaud rule the commentary box with an iron fist? Are Ian Healy and Mark Taylor more than just good friends? Is Mark Nicholas really a polite Englishman or a drunken, swearing, sheep-shearing Kiwi in disguise?
Take a chance, guys.
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