Where was Benaud's uncanny ability to produce a telling silence? He has known down the decades that viewers aren't completely thick. Let them figure things out for themselves and offer an opinion to add to the picture.
The old guard is changing. Bill Lawry has dialled back his involvement; Tony Greig died last year. Ian Chappell is finding himself surrounded by broadcasting dimwits.
The new men in the box may have been outstanding players but since when does that guarantee top-class match calling?
Stretch that to these shores too, where quality broadcasters are largely set aside in favour of former internationals in rugby and cricket. Let's just say they don't all bring their A game to their new role.
Perhaps Channel 9 boss David Gyngell - last heard of three months ago brawling with James Packer in a Bondi street - was simply throwing out a juicy line to the media; maybe he's serious.
You could have some fun with it, though.
As the camera crossed to Benaud stretched out on his recliner in the lounge - although possibly not that comfortable in the beige jacket - clutching a KFC zinger burger for lunch to fulfil the sponsors' needs; wife Daphne might emerge from the kitchen with a plate of scones.
A telling silence from the lounge, however, might be problematic. When is a timely silence actually a bathroom break?
Benaud is one of that small group of commentators for whom the word iconic fits. There aren't that many of them ... Ray Warren in league, Phil Liggett in road cycling, the late Murray Walker at the Formula One, tennis giant Fred Stolle and the late Bill McLaren of rugby lore.
What they have in common was giving the viewer a feeling of comfort, a voice with intonations they have come to know.
The viewer may not agree with them, but it is hard not to appreciate one thing they have all possessed - a love of their game.
Sure, they are not all to everyone's taste.
Warren's tendency to call players by their first name - "and Jarryd will play it at the 40m mark" - can irritate; you know you won't hear a bad word about cycling from Liggett, even on its dark days; Walker was excitable and got things wrong; McLaren's Hawick accent would come up with the perfect phrase for the picture - "there's Beaumont burrowing in like a giant mole" - at the right time.
Were, and are, they fans or broadcasters? A guess here, but all would object at being called fans first, broadcasters second, as Sky's people in Glasgow at the Commonwealth Games were by their boss recently.
At least one of their number privately took considerable umbrage at that.
Benaud's time is coming. Who knows, if this summer is to be his final over, working from home could be the most distinctive imaginable way to call time.
