by Rex Clementine

Boxing Day Tests are the crown jewels of the cricketing calendar, and where better to soak it all in than Melbourne—the undisputed sporting capital of the world. The Melbourne Cricket Ground (MCG) has a magnetic charm that few venues can rival. It’s a coliseum of dreams, and this year, it delivered drama that had fans on the edge of their seats.

Enter Jasprit Bumrah, a bowler with pace as awkward as a drunk uncle on the dance floor, who tormented the Aussies with his unplayable bounce. The scene grew even more intriguing when Australia threw a curveball by debuting a 19-year-old rookie.

‘If seasoned campaigners can’t handle Bumrah, what chance does a teenager have?’ many wondered aloud. But this kid, Konstas, wasn’t one to tiptoe into the limelight. Instead, he swaggered his way in, flicking the world’s top-ranked bowler for his maiden runs, scooping his first boundary with cheeky audacity, and topping it off with a reverse scoop for six. Bumrah had rattled the top order, but Konstas wrestled the momentum back Australia’s way with a performance as bold as it was brilliant.

We should have been celebrating this young dynamo, but cricket, being cricket, had other plans. Instead, the spotlight shifted to a petty spat – Virat Kohli’s shoulder barge on the young debutant. It was as unsightly as a poorly brewed cup of tea. If cricket had a version of a red card, Kohli would’ve deserved it, along with a hefty fine and a one-match suspension. Yet, Match Referee Andy Pycroft, wielding authority like a soft schoolteacher, let him off with a mere slap on the wrist.

This sets a dangerous precedent. If shoulder barging now only costs you a 20% match fee, what’s stopping others from following suit? The guardians of the game had a golden opportunity to make an example of Kohli – perhaps even bench him for the Sydney Test – and draw a hard line: aggression is fine, but cricket isn’t a contact sport. Instead, they let this moment slip through their fingers like a poorly caught edge.

Fans have long whispered about the double standards in cricket’s disciplinary corridors: one rule for India, another for the rest. And who can blame them? In today’s cricketing landscape, no one wants to poke the bear that is the BCCI. The Aussies themselves, usually happy to fan the flames of controversy, seemed content to sweep this under the rug.

Pycroft, a veteran Match Referee with over 100 Tests to his name, might have been trying to tread carefully. After all, the BCCI has a history of flexing its muscles to get its way. Remember Mike Denness. The former England captain had the audacity to sanction six Indian players in 2001 for excessive appealing, ball tampering, and bringing the game into disrepute. The result? The players walked free, but Denness was unceremoniously shown the door. When India threatened to abandon the tour, South Africa, the hosts, bent over backwards to accommodate them. The ICC stood by Denness in principle, but in practice, India called the shots.

History repeated itself in 2008 during the infamous Monkeygate saga in Perth. Match Referee Mike Procter handed Harbhajan Singh a three-match ban for allegedly making a racial slur. India, as predictable as ever, threatened to pull out of the tour. The ban was overturned on appeal, leaving Procter looking like a deer in headlights. Not only did he lose face, but he was also quietly blacklisted from officiating in the IPL.

India’s rise as a cricketing superpower is something to marvel at. Their talent pipeline runs deeper than an oil well, and their financial clout is unmatched. But it’s stunts like Kohli’s that make even moderate fans grit their teeth in frustration. Kohli may have escaped a suspension, but his antics have left a sour taste. While his loyal fanbase cheers on his firebrand behaviour, others are quietly hoping for his swan song in Indian colours.

Off the field, the Kohli debate has drawn a motley crew of former cricketers who are now preaching the gospel of playing in the “right spirit.” Michael Vaughan, Justin Langer, and Ricky Ponting are leading the charge. But before we crown them as saints, let’s not forget the skeletons rattling in their cupboards. Each of these gentlemen has, at one point or another, dragged the game’s reputation through the mud. Their sudden transformation into moral guardians reeks of the classic “poacher turned gamekeeper” scenario.