Zaheer Khan. India. Chicken Tikka Masala

You know how some people get original ideas for books, novels and plays while doing the most mundane things at home, like shaving a potted plant? A similar thing happened to me the other day while I was meticulously programming the treadmill at my local gym prior to launching into a rigorous running routine.

While keying in the settings - desired speed (9.5kph), track incline (1.0%), age (youthful 32) and weight - I casually looked up at one of the TV screens on which the management usually beams out programming of a motivating nature for gym users: professional wrestling, extreme mountaineering, Rihanna precipitously vibrating as if due to a medical condition associated with defective motor neurons in her derrière, and advertisements by a local kebab and pizza purveyor.

But on that day, one of the TVs was tuned to a cricket match between India and Sri Lanka. Or maybe it was India and Australia. I just remember the other team was one that Ricky Ponting is no longer a part of.

The Indian batting effort was collapsing in a manner so shameless that the BCCI would no doubt blame it on media speculation, when Zaheer Khan came to bat. But before he took guard, the broadcast showed one of those player-introduction graphics in the bottom-right corner of the screen.

This one had Zaheer first looking down, then looking up slowly, pausing, and then smiling. And then his name was displayed in huge letters.

Which is all very well, except for the fact that Zaheer had clearly agreed to this recording under extreme duress. His look down, up, and the smile were executed with the fluid grace of exploding cattle.

Indeed, when I think about it now, Zaheer's performance was exactly like that of a terribly ill patient who spent hours trying to fulfil a stool-sample requirement, finally achieved his goal and looked up in temporary relief.

Immediately I realised there was room for much improvement in this small aspect of televised cricket. After all, when cricket is fighting corruption, plummeting viewership, questionable technology and the spirit of cricket, any innovation in broadcasting and presentation is welcome.

Over the years cricket broadcasters have arrived at a few basic iterations of the player-introduction graphic:

The Che Guevara: Here a photo of the player is displayed, usually looking majestically into the distance, followed by a table with their statistics on the right.

The Successful Stool Sample: As discussed above.

The "Why Don't You Get A Restraining Order?": The player starts by looking to one side and then suddenly turns towards the screen, scaring away many small children, and smiles creepily. Shudder.

The Age/ Sex/ Location: In a delightful multimedia twist, the player looks into the screen, smiles and introduces himself in three short phrases, comprising name, nation and function. For instance: "R Ashwin. India. Press conference after loss."

The Luca Brasi: In this, the latest variation, players stand a few steps away from the screen with arms by their sides, then suddenly take a step or two forward, cross their arms in front of their chest (or closest approximation for Samit Patel), and finish off by announcing the usual: name, nation and function: "S Sreesanth. India. Winning World Cups".

None of these five techniques is particularly poor. However, there is plenty of room for improvement.

First of all, why should only players be subject to this? Why not do the same for umpires - "Umpire Bruce Oxenford. Australia. Oh shit." They can do this twice for the two on-field umpires, once before each innings. And once for the third umpire each time he is called into action. This will also help to motivate third umpires who are usually spared the limelight.

Introduction graphics are also useful for commentators. Why not introduce each set of commentators as they come on for their designated half hours? For instance, Sourav Ganguly can do this: Stand at a distance. Walk towards the screen. Undo shirt slowly while mouthing the words: "Sourav Ganguly. India. Captain. Tendulkar should retire."

But coming back to the players. Why should players from every country do their introductions in exactly the same way? Why not let each country handle its player introductions uniquely? Not only is there an opportunity for sponsorship income here, but also for heightened entertainment.

For instance, imagine if each South African player actually choked while giving his introduction. Whatay tremendous viewer delight!

What if each Indian player ran up to the screen, smiled casually, announced his ASL as usual - "MS Dhoni. India. I declare" - and then immediately Suresh Raina runs in from the left of the screen and leaps on them with a primal scream?

Perhaps some nations might want to use the opportunity to give personal insight into their players. What could be more exciting than to see Kevin Pietersen appear on one side of the screen, look up at the map of South Africa, frown, walk to the other side where there is a map of England, smile, and introduce himself.

What tremendous narrative efficiency! What encapsulated enlightenment! What subtle storytelling!

I invite all cricket broadcasters to freely dip into these ideas and think of new ones themselves. As a cricket fan I am happy merely to see the sport flourish.

Sidin Vadukut. India. Boxer-shorts modelling.