Chris Rattue: Billy the ball boy and a helping of Tony's baloney

Umpire no-balled by cricket board

That might have been the headline, following the shock horror revelations that our very own Billy Bowden, eccentric umpire to the stars, tried to souvenir the ball after England's thrilling second test win in the Ashes.

It was hardly surprising the England and Wales Cricket Board wanted their ball back, after Bowden prised it off the English wicketkeeper Geraint Jones, who shocked everyone and maybe even himself by actually hanging on to the final catch at Edgbaston.

Even in this age, umpires need to know their place as impartial and unobtrusive decision-makers. Players can't be put in a position where they may innocently disappoint - or be perceived to have disappointed - a match official who may later stand in judgment over their appeals or batting tenure. Bowden over-stepped the mark, in this and his self-importance.

A remarkable part of this story is that Jones handed the ball over. But it was hardly a surprise in these quarters that Bowden set out to snaffle the historic cherry.

My own brief dealings with Bowden suggested he is a keen hunter and gatherer.

A few years ago, I wrote a story about Bowden hooking his finger around a pint as an extra in the British television soap opera Coronation St.

No sooner had this startling news hit the streets than the phone rang. It was Bowden, who suggested that one good turn - his Coro St revelations - deserved another. Could I get my hands on Super 12 tickets for him?

Bit of a laugh sometimes, our Billy. It seems the EWCB was not so amused, with good reason.

What was also not so amusing was English referee Tony Spreadbury in Saturday night's Tri-Nations rugby match at Sydney. Unobtrusive he was not.

After viewing and listening to Spreadbury for 80 odd - very odd - minutes, it might be assumed that what happened in a club game at Leicester four years ago was no accident.

With full time up, a player stumbled into Spreadbury and knocked him unconscious.

Maybe the player was acoustically punch drunk - this punter certainly was and long before the end of the All Blacks' victory at the Olympic stadium.

Spreadbury's mad rambling, the incessant chatter, weren't so much a distraction but more the destruction of a sporting experience. They also seemed to confuse the players.

Spreadbury also appeared so desperate to play the fun guy, the players' best mate, that you half expected him to start inviting the guys around for dinner.

Spreadbury, a test referee since 1990, has a motto that, above all, referees should have fun and enjoy themselves.

Wrong, old bean. You are out there to do what is an extremely tough job. On Saturday's evidence, he is not up to it.

As the former All Black prop-turned-commentator John Drake pointed out vehemently, Spreadbury's failure to understand the scrums was a disgrace.

Australia's scrum was among the worst in the history of battles between the top rugby nations, yet they could hang on because the English whistler had no idea they were falling apart.

As for the intrusion into our living rooms, it is time for broadcasters to re-evaluate the worth of having the referees' microphones continually linked to the commentary.

It is, for sure, a bonus to hear some of the words that take place in the heat of battle.

For those who have stayed up to watch the Ashes, there was a charming moment during the third test when batting hero Shane Warne changed his gloves early in a morning session.

English captain Michael Vaughan suggested it was premature for such a swap to be necessary.

Warne, all-round larrikin and manna from heaven for tabloid newspapers, replied that he was nervous.

Shane Warne gets nervous? Usually it's the people associated with Shane Warne, or the batsmen facing him, who sweat with concern. Stop the presses.

It was priceless information, not the least that it showed a side of Warne that a few of us may have, unthinkingly, believed did not exist.

We didn't need to hear the exchange of words, though. The commentators relayed the information to us. That we didn't have to hear all the other chatter increased its value.

This anecdote from the middle was music to the ears compared to Spreadbury's piffle.

There may be viewers who like this sort of thing. But for these ears, it was a defining moment in modern day rugby coverage, a reminder that too many games viewed on television are ruined or at least severely damaged by having to listen to yapping referees.

The whole television experience, it could also be claimed, has encouraged referees - many of whom had their playing careers stymied by lack of talent or injury - to seek the limelight. This isn't Rugby Idol - it's high time for Referees Unplugged.

Since the referees are not the ones who decide to boom into millions of homes, here's a suggestion: the commentators get to hear the referee and they and the producers decide how to use the information.

It is way beyond time to pull up stumps on the whistlers' annoying TV contribution.