It was in the sixties that the chucking controversy first erupted in Test cricket. Not many tears were shed when Ian Meckiff and Gordon Rorke of Australia were dubbed chuckers by players and press alike. What happened to Geoff Griffin of South Africa was somehow more tragic, because the young fast bowler's career was cut short by umpire Sid Buller calling him repeatedly in a Test at Lord's in 1960, as also the exhibition match that followed it. The tragedy could have been avoided if the fast bowler had been called early in domestic cricket and given a chance to correct his action before he came to international cricket.

Contrast the no-nonsense attitude of those times towards bowlers with illegal or doubtful actions with the softer approach today, especially on the parts of the cricket boards to which the bowlers in question owe allegiance. Umpires who call them are subjected to the minutest scrutiny, even closer than the bowler's action is. A big hue and cry is raised by both officialdom and fans of the bowler's country and the matter is turned into an international issue. All kinds of explanations are offered for the optical illusion that millions of viewers simultaneously experience, from the bowler being dropped on his head as an infant to speculation as to whether or not every bowler that was ever born chucked the odd one, so what's wrong with a few throws once in a while?

The topic of chucking is an intriguing and entertaining one, the subject of many a lively discussion among cricketers, cricket-fanciers and that strange animal, the cricket writer, to whom a bent arm is worth hundreds of words of undying prose. At just such a debate the other day, some of us wondered aloud whether chucking would be legalized soon. All kinds of new scenarios were visualized. A new type of dismissal was envisaged: Batsman A run out by Bowler B. Another speculation was the possibility, mooted by the baby of the team of journalists in conversation, of new legislation that would permit one throw per over.

All this reminded me of a simple stratagem through which captains of yore protected their precious strike bowlers (read chuckers) from umpires hellbent on calling them. They simply brought the called bowler on from the other end in the hope the umpire there would take a lighter view of the offending action. And they often got the desired result. Even if the bowler never again played another first class game, he had by then won at least one match for you.

I was also reminded of a one-man crusade against chucking launched in the seventies. Indian umpire Piloo Reporter made it his mission to eradicate chucking from Indian domestic cricket. He called quite a few bowlers ­ bowlers everyone knew were chuckers but none dared to call - in the Ranji Trophy matches in which he stood. And the trick of changing the bowler's end did not work with him, because he was perfectly capable of no balling a bowler from his position as straight umpire, if the square leg umpire chose to ignore an illegal action. While I can promise you none questioned Reporter's integrity for taking that courageous step, I am not sure he would get off so lightly today.

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