Machine-made humanity

The arguments are likely to plague sport in general for some time yet, not least in the aftermath of last month’s rugby union World Cup final, where a potentially decisive England try was ruled out, possibly in error, after an extensive consultation between referee and TV official. One camera angle told one story, another told a different one. Nobody’s perfect; not even the machines. But they’re still cleverer than us mere mortals.

During the closing stages in Mohali today came a priceless example of why we cannot trust the players – if we ever could. As Rohit Sharma chased a boundary-bound blow from Shahid Afridi, he reached down, collected the ball and threw, but not before his right hand touched the hoarding. When the camera alighted on Sharma a moment or two later, he was wearing a bemused expression of purest innocence. But he knew his hand had made contact, and one assumes he knew the law. The only conclusion to be drawn therefore, at least from one’s armchair, was that he thought he’d got away with it. Fortunately, he didn’t. Fortunately, in the interests of fairness and legitimacy, umpires seldom take fielders at their word these days. Why should they? That said, to pretend that rises in salaries have been accompanied in inverse proportion by a decline in manners and honesty is to buy into the hoarily romantic old theory, and wholly unproveable assumption, that previous generations were more honourable.

To retain credibility, professional sport, its practitioners and audience, deserve as much justice as is humanly possible. And if the humans can’t do it on their own, let the machines help wherever and whenever possible, within reason. “Human error” is no longer a get-out-of-jail-free card: too much is at stake. As Van Morrison seldom tires of pointing out whenever he performs his 40-year-old showstopper Cyprus Avenue, it’s too late to stop now. Far too late. Pandora’s box is open. Live with it.