A while back, a big Australian bloke decided he didn't much fancy international cricket as it then was. So he did something about it.
He bought the game's best players, put them in coloured clobber, plonked cameras at each end of the ground (shock, horror!) accompanied by the great line
from one of his chief planners that "I don't want to look at some bloke's arse every second over", painted the ball white and, hey-ho, it was off and away to a summer wonderland for the old game.
Those in a position to do so usually bring about change to a particular sport for one of two reasons: either to make the game better, which is a subjective but usually well-intentioned business; or to attract more people to watch it.
Over the 32 years that have passed since Kerry Packer turned the game upside down, change has come and gone in cricket.
Some initiatives are best forgotten, like Dennis Lillee's aluminium bat stunt in 1979.
There are those which are with us, but shouldn't be, like the ludicrous free hit after a no ball.
Others are at least intriguing - eliminating leg byes, for example - and then there are those which seem ultimately not quite cricket.
Think of the double-play from baseball. Four years ago, former Indian batting hero Sunil Gavaskar, as head of the International Cricket Council's cricket committee, raised the prospect of bringing it in for one-day games.
Under Gavaskar's suggestion, a batsman could be caught, or lbw, and a quick-witted fielder would be able to throw to the non-striker's end to attempt a run out.
It hasn't happened, probably won't, but at least it's thinking outside the square.
This month, former Australian captain Ian Chappell raised the idea of three-day tests under day-night conditions.
Before you traditionalists completely lose your cornflakes, Chappell argued that things could be sped up by getting players to lift themselves to 16 overs an hour over a seven-hour day (and that's a hoot, but we'll let it slide for the moment), with a suitably coloured ball and having ball boys round the boundaries to throw it back.
Play them from Friday to Sunday to maximise spectator appeal and give players four days' recovery time. It at least gets you thinking, considering the speed at which runs are scored in many parts of the world these days.
This week, ICC president David Morgan said he would be surprised if day-night tests were not up and running in two years, revealing his optimistic side.
He might be right, but it won't be in New Zealand.
It could only happen in warmer climates than this.
Fancy shivering on a dewy bank at Seddon Park at 8.30pm among a smattering of spectators while a batsman pokes out his pad with three fielders round the bat?
Or, as a colleague pointed out yesterday, playing cricket at night needs a full house, a balmy night and plenty of beer on board.
And let's assume for a moment that the ICC can come up with a ball which works under lights.
Australia might have a look at the concept, because anyone who has sat at the Melbourne Cricket Ground on a steamy night in January will testify that the term "nip in the air" does not apply.
Night cricket is more likely to be something that will interest the television viewer.
New Zealand Cricket chief executive Justin Vaughan was lukewarm on the night cricket idea this week, and certainly had no interest in New Zealand being the guinea pig.
No wonder.
And if the ICC glances New Zealand's way round the big table any time soon with a "how about you guys" look, no thanks.
A while back, a big Australian bloke decided he didn't much fancy international cricket as it then was. So he did something about it.
He bought the game's best players, put them in coloured clobber, plonked cameras at each end of the ground (shock, horror!) accompanied by the great line
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