IT'S been easy for columnists like me to call the latest crisis "cricket's greatest test since the Packer Revolution" and to make flip reference to the controversy surrounding Bodyline. But, of course, those were greatly different days.
Some argue that the Bodyline to-do was simply an extension of Empire and that the British, in the guise of MCC, simply wanted to keep the Aussies in their place. The Australians, so far as one can judge from the history books had some justification for their stance and determined not to be kept below stairs.
The losers were, inevitably given the manners of the time, the unfortunate Harold Larwood who was only obeying orders and Douglas Jardine. Larwood was still the best fast bowler in sight but he never played in Tests again, while Jardine was kept at arm's length until he died after the war, even if he was one of the most successful England captains.
During the Packer dispute my most vivid memory is of furious articles by writers who seemed to assume that rule by the traditional methods was the only acceptable way of cricket life. Reminiscent of recent events or what? I believe that revolution has its place in man's progress, and that the best inventions are forced on the human race during wars. I still cannot understand the point of view that rejects change altogether.
Those who were damned in Packer's time - Tony Greig, Kerry Packer himself, those "rebels" who joined the Packer teams - were written off as traitors, fools and dastardly knaves. Anyone who thought they had the right, as professional sportsmen, to sell their services to the highest bidder, were regarded as beyond the pale. Does that ring any bells after the mad month we have just witnessed?
From the moment the Packer story broke it was reported in terms which gave a clear indication that anyone attempting to play cricket outside the bounds of conventional authority was a renegade. The Daily Mail headline of May 9, 1977 read: "The World's Top Cricketers Turn Pirate" from that moment, until the affair ended in the compromise that led to the present more flexible government, cricket went downhill rapidly for two whole years.
Headlines this week include "More Speed, less hate ends crisis" and "People must realise ICC rule." The implication in both the Packer crisis and the Sehwag furore is that lesser mortals must not rock the boat; and in many cases the English reporting of this round of cricket diplomacy has been heavily one-eyed. Only the Indian Mihir Bose has - not surprisingly - offered a more balanced view.
The Packer Affair came into the open at a party held by Greig - whose absence from England in the last 25 years has been one of the greatest blows to the development of the game here - two days before the Daily Mail story. Everyone who was anybody in cricket was present, including several cricket reporters who were Greig's great friends.
This last statement is no surprise. Greig was not just outgoing, affable, friendly; he knew a story when he saw one and, like many other Test captains, from Richie Benaud to Steve Waugh, he realised the benefits of having the Press on his side. He has not changed a wit in the last quarter of a century.
Greig was told that night that the plans he and Packer had drawn up were about to be revealed in Australia. It meant, even in those days before the Internet and its instant communication, that the story would flash round the world in 24 hours.
It is strange to read Henry Blofeld's account of the events of that Sunday afternoon - he had missed Greig's party - when he wrote his copy by pen and phoned it to the Guardian. How much simpler the lap top and electronic communication systems have made the life of the reporter on the hoof in Hove, like Blofeld that day.
This ability to send news round the world so quickly is part of the problem. The news of Sachin Tendulkar's punishment by match referee Mike Denness went out 24 hours early from a reporter who must be rightly proud of his exclusive, He is also part of the problem. He said that Tendulkar had been accused of ball-tampering and not surprisingly stirred the anger of admirers who thought their star could do no wrong.
That phrase was endlessly repeated, despite the statement from ICC and it was not until Denness began to give interviews back in England that the full version emerged.
Denness, a careful man, had fined Tendulkar and given him a suspended ban, for failing to show the umpire how he was cleaning the ball. If only Denness had been restrained enough to tell Sachin to remember the laws next time and forgotten fines, suspended bans and any form of punishment.
Back to Packer. You will be astonished, as I am still, to know that while most of the newspapers in England used the story, The Times and The Daily Telegraph, cricketers' newspapers both, played it down for lack of evidence.
Then the rows began. "In a remarkably short time Kerry Packer had thrown the cricket world into upheaval," Blofeld wrote in his book The Packer Affair a year later.
The English Press set out to demonise Packer with stories about him and his father - who punished any misbehaviour by tackling his sons in the boxing ring - and the young one's admiration for Genghis Khan: "He wasn't very loveable but he was bloody efficient." Michael Davie describes him as "like the man in the stocking mask" and as "giving one of his meat-mangling smiles."
(He is a formidable figure, admittedly. I once turned a corner in a corridor at Lord's and found myself face to face with Packer, who is tall and wide. I was in shock for several hours.)
The British Press also made assumptions which are laughable with the added value of hindsight. It was thought that world cricket would be ruined financially by the Packer Revolution and that matches would consist of endless short-pitched bowling. Nothing of the sort.
There were attacks on Greig too. He was, it was written, "money conscious," his side in India in 1975 had asked for payment for miniature autographed bats, players did not like him because he was a South African. Does the process of demonisation and misunderstanding ring a bell? Of course. Much the same process has been applied to Jagmohan Dalmiya; rightly or wrongly.
For a couple of years the splits in the game became obvious. Old friends fell out; tales of negotiations varied depending on who was telling the tale; it was even said that Sir Donald Bradman put the phone down when he discovered Richie Benaud, another Packer convert, on the other end.
In the long term the game was stronger after Packer. Players at all levels were better paid, sponsors poured in money, the publicity men drew up plans which drew in the crowds. Don't tell me that cricket in Australia is not better than it was 25 years ago. The vibrancy of 100 overs under floodlights, coloured clothing, numbers on the backs, the go-go-go of their team who are universally regarded as the best in the world, even the hyped-up commentary of their men Greig, Benaud, Ian Chappell. All exude the positive Packer package.
In other words the Packer revolution has done more good than harm. So it may be that in 25 years some other writer will come to much the same conclusion about recent events. That although the beginnings of the row over Denness and Tendulkar may have been an unsatisfactory way to go forward the results could be entirely beneficial.
That is one reason why I am pleased ICC have instigated their own inquiry into precisely what happened at Port Elizabeth, into their own performance and the way each of their officials worked.
Why didn't the umpires see what Tendulkar did? Should Denness have imposed the penalties he did? Should he have put in place a pause which meant that the verdict would be leaked? (You will remember that recently I said that today a secret is a story that does not emerge for a week). Should they have an appeals system? These questions must be answered.
At least that is a way to make sure the impasse of the last fortnight is not repeated. If that happens cricket will develop a name for failing to deliver that wipes out all the good work of the Kerry Packer Revolution.
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