Monday, February 11, 2002 The most remarkable response to Bishan Singh Bedi's fulmination against chucking has been silence. There could be two reasons. Either Bedi is just a pompous old fart, as Kamran Abbasi suggested on this website last Friday. Or he has reopened an issue so sensitive, so uncomfortable and so potentially disruptive that silence suits everyone – administrators, former players and opinion-makers.

Abbasi's assault on Bedi was spectacular for its sting. On one level, it was brilliantly persuasive and a scathing expose of the silliness of the sepia-tinted fuddy-duddy mentality. On another, it was plain naïve and completely obfuscated the core issue.

That issue is not whether the past was prettier and more glorious than the present. It isn't whether Fred Trueman was a greater bowler than Darren Gough, or whether Bedi's armer was better than Harbhajan¹s doosra.

It is not a question of likes and dislikes, of whims and fancies. It is not even a question of propriety or decorum. It is one of legality. Chucking is a serious issue that needs to be addressed head-on. Bedi has raised some fundamentally crucial questions which need to debated, not dismissed. Shoving a difficult problem aside does not make it disappear – instead it creates a monster.

Muttiah Muralitharan's action has been approved by the ICC following conclusive medical proof that he is incapable of fully straightening his right arm. A similar explanation has successfully defended the controversial bowling action of Shoaib Akhtar.

Every sport in the world must be governed by a fixed set of rules. It could not be a sporting contest unless the players were pitted against one another under similar conditions and similar regulations. The laws of cricket state that once the bowler's arm has reached the level of the shoulder in the delivery swing, the elbow joint must not straighten from that point until the ball has left the hand.

Bedi's contention, and it is difficult to argue with is: should a player be allowed to break the rules and derive unfair advantage on account of physical deformity? Bedi's illustrious contemporary, Bhagwat Chandrasekhar had a withered wrist, but it must be pointed out that he bowled with a perfectly straight arm and his action was 100% legal. Murali's and Shoaib's actions cannot be deemed legal without making an allowance for their unnatural physical conditions.

But should cricket make such an allowance? Bedi argues, and it is an opinion shared by many cricketers, that Murali's unusual action is responsible for the phenomenal turn he derives off the wicket.

It is nobody's case that Murali is a cheat. He bowls the only way he knows and with the only means available to him. But it is a legitimate question whether the rules of the game should be bent to accommodate his bent arm.

Why not? There is, after all, a precedent in golf. American golfer Casey Martin, who has a degenerative circulatory disorder that makes walking painful, won a Supreme Court battle that allowed him to use a golf cart at PGA tournaments where walking is mandatory.

The possibilities in cricket are immense. Physically handicapped batsmen could be allowed a permanent runner and never be required to field. Aluminium bats could be permitted if a batsman was unable to lift the lightest of wooden bats. Lighter balls, like the ones they use in women's cricket, could be introduced too. Indeed, cricket could become a very different game.

Sambit Bal is editor of Wisden.com India and of Wisden Asia Cricket magazine. His column appears every Monday.

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