How can we stop cricket being so entertaining?
There is such a thing as the danger of the game becoming too exciting for fans, you know

The kind of unseemly athleticism that is giving our fair game a bad name • Getty Images
Much is made of the size of players' blades these days, with many pointing out that batting with a block of wood thicker than the average skinhead's neck might be a little disadvantageous to bowlers. There may be an element of truth to this, but instead of carping about it cynics should encourage Dhoni et al to walk out wielding ever heftier weapons. Eventually there'll be a tipping point when bats become heavier than a rhino thigh and would-be Maxwells will be hoisted on their own unliftable petard by only being able to play the most defensive of forward prods. This may alienate most people except Geoffrey Boycott, but at least we'll see some proper cricket.
As a vegetarian it's tough to propose this, but drastic measures are needed to stop a repeat of the recent joyous incident in the fixture between Melbourne Stars and Perth Scorchers. For those who didn't catch it, an unfortunate seagull was struck by a swipe to midwicket and, presumed departed, had to be carried to the boundary by the perturbed fielder, Rob Quiney. Moments later the ornithological trickster, perhaps forgetting it wasn't a phoenix, had the temerity to rise from the flames of death and reposition itself back in the outfield. The crowd loved it, but in this new age of po-faced cricketing austerity, such flighty japes can't be tolerated. All ground staff to thus be issued with Kalashnikovs and a "Shoot first, sell to KFC later" policy.
It's easy to whinge about all Channel Nine's commentary, not least because it's quite often more cringey than your parents telling you about your conception, but there are some standout anti-heroes who genuinely make the blood of cricketing joy drain from the face of even the most committed fan. Healy and Brayshaw are chief among them, chirping on like a pair of parakeets on any subject under the sun bar the actual game itself. If people are enjoying modern cricket too much, a surefire remedy is to make them endure the commentary of these two machismo-banter drones without respite. Supporters will soon be concreting over their own ears.
On a similarly aural note, another trend that has added to the general vivacity of cricket is Kiwi and Australian stadium DJs churning out some eclectic and magnificent tunes in between overs. Recently ODI fans have been treated to a smorgasbord of varied melodic splendour encompassing Radiohead, Taylor Swift, Rihanna, Pink Floyd and even a dash of Neil Young. Mixing two of the finest things on the planet, cricket and music, might seem a good idea but it does run the risk of people again regarding the sport as a glorious orgy of entertainment. The proposed remedy is no slight on Leonard Cohen, but what better way to dampen spirits than with the exquisitely morose Canadian troubadour's maudlin classic "Famous Blue Raincoat" being played any time a six is hit? Supporters will soon get the idea.
Whenever a bowler oversteps in a T20, the crowd is immediately seized by a frisson of expectation at the prospect of the batsman then being able to have a risk-free wallop. To temper this enthusiasm, the youngest Chappell brother, famed for his morally dubious underarm effort against New Zealand in 1981 to prevent a six off the last delivery of an ODI, shall be employed as a roving free-hit bowling specialist. His unsmashable daisy-cutters will mean the striker can at best take a single to cover. This will ensure none of the current excitement brought about by a bludgeoned maximum can inflict itself on fans.
James Marsh writes Pavilion Opinions. He is also a Tefl teacher whose students learn superlatives by being shown Graham Thorpe videos