Chris Rattue: For real cheer bring on the Super Sup

Kerry Packer may be gone but his spirit should not be forgotten and cricket has been handed another golden opportunity to liven up the game.

New Zealand can take cricket to a whole new level by capitalising on the threat to cut off the normal beer in stadiums and replace it with low-alcohol stuff, if and when the ruffians get out of hand.

Cricket stands at a turning point. Further down the track, the authorities (as they are lovingly called) are considering introducing something called "stadium strength beer", a Geoffrey Boycott-type brew that can be consumed for days on end without ever doing anything exciting.

Clearly the powers have decided that years of trying to subdue the crowds with stadium strength tea have failed and the time has come to get tough by playing the percentages at the pumps.

And to be fair, the subject of controlling crowd mood with behaviour-altering catering has been ignored for too long.

The authorities could - for instance - have tried intermediate steps, such as putting real meat in the pies or leaving the hot water urn on all day.

Never mind. Cricket is entering glorious new territory. After getting the masses hammered during the first innings, the authorities are now considering using the second to try and sober them up.

They might consider the following innovation.

As the crowd begins to get restless, a policeman will hurtle out of the tunnel, throw himself before the umpires, and launch a massive appeal for the light beers.

If this game catches on in Australia, 11 policeman will be allowed to race out of the tunnel to deliver a crazed appeal.

At this point, a crowd member will have the right to enter the arena, where he can stalk towards an umpire and shake his head vigorously while touching his nose with a forefinger to indicate he is not in bad nick.

The umpires will then have the right to decide if the taps are switched to low alcohol, although they can refer the matter upstairs to a beer umpire who will scan the CCT tapes. The only rule relating to the beer umpire is that it cannot be Craig Gower from the Penrith league club.

When the decision about whether to beer or not to beer is made, it will be relayed back to the umpires who will walk towards the terraces and then produce the relevant signal. For a continuation of the real beer, they will raise the arms as if signalling a six - a triumphant gesture the crowd will relate to. If it's low alcohol time, they will use the cutting motion of the signal for four and then run like hell back to the middle. The police will be allowed one appeal per over.

The high alcohol time during a match will be known as Super Sup, while a flashing light on the scoreboard will signal to the crowd that the authorities have called a Power Play and introduced the drinking restrictions.

There is the potential for fine-tuning these rules. For instance, the Power Play could be used in blocks of five overs, after which the crowd could launch its own appeal for a re-introduction of Super Sup.

The person under the most pressure here will be the beer umpire - which is the perfect time to introduce Jeremy Coney.

A core sample from the ruffians would be laid out on the ground where New Zealand's foremost pitch report expert would crawl over him on hands and knees while rapping the yob's body with his knuckles.

This would help determine how dry the yobs are, and what they will play up like later in the match.

There are, it has to be said, many unanswered questions about the low alcohol deal. For instance, if the terraces go loony, does that mean a poor sod has to go around the corporate boxes hauling the gin and brandy out of the cupboards. This would not be a pleasant job, and those boxes are full of smarty pants lawyers just itching to sue anyone for breach of rights. And if a high flyer cuts up rough in the corporate boxes, will it result in the yobs getting landed with the low alcohol treatment?

And will there be a dispensation for people who have already lined up in a queue. Quite frankly, anybody who has spent half an hour queuing for their beer rations on the basis that it's going to be of a certain strength, and who has clearly not taken part in the rough stuff, would have every right to complain to the advertising standards authority should the Power Play be called at the very moment they reach the counter.

Let's not focus on the negative however.

The beauty of this game - and of the whole low-alcohol concept - is that it will involve the crowd in cricket-like tactics. The yobs will have to decide whether to launch an immediate beer chase early - a latter day version of the six o'clock swill - knowing that the authorities are sure to introduce a Power Play at some stage. The alternative will be to build slowly to prolong the Super Sup period, but there is the risk here that you could be caught not high but dry.

Divisions may even emerge in the yob ranks, as sections build their innings slowly while others produce an early charge a la Lou Vincent going after the Aussies. What a tantalising prospect. Cheers.


And in services to league

* Congratulations to the Halberg Awards people for failing to nominate the Kiwis as a contender for team of the year.

They have done league a great service. History says that as soon as people start patting the Kiwis on the back, they stuff up. Big time. Nominating the Kiwis for a Halberg would have been their death knell.

* What a moment for mountain running, with two nominations for the Halbergs. It's great to see a small sport get this recognition, and a sport doesn't get any smaller than mountain running. You'll get no predictions here that Jonathan Wyatt and Kate McIlroy will win their divisions. But if they do, I'll wager any money you like that they get up on the stage quicker than anyone else.

* For the statistically minded, there are 25 members of the Halberg voting academy, of which eight are from the media while the other 17 are former sports stars. If rumours are correct, the number of people in the Halberg academy is only a few shy of the number who voted in the comical People's Choice awards last month.

* and finally, at the time of writing Shane Warne had leapt way ahead of his soon-to-be ex-wife Simone in an Australian newspaper poll on whether the A$10m ($10.85 million) she seeks is a fair divorce settlement. Warnie might be able to do no wrong with the Aussie public, but I reckon Simone deserves every cent.