There has been a great amount of sanctimonious handwringing during the past fortnight or so over the actions of the Australian cricket umpire in the ball-tampering affair in the Pakistan/England Test match.

Darrell Hair has been lambasted for the decision that essentially held that the Pakistanis had cheated, apparently without evidence, by tampering with the ball and for asking the International Cricket Council (ICC) for a US$500,000 pay-out to exit the game.

Mr. Hair holds no special place with us. Indeed, we have often found him, in his officiating, arrogant, pompous, judgemental and either unwilling or incapable of responding to the delicate nuances of the game. His approach, particularly to the teams from Asia and the Caribbean is hardened and legalistic, where the letter of the law is his only medium and entire message.

And he seems to harbour a hair-trigger suspicion of the Pakistanis. Few, therefore, would have been surprised that Mr. Hair would have been convinced on the scantiest of evidence that the Pakistanis were cheating by deliberately damaging the ball to induce reverse swing.

Our concern though is that whatever Mr. Hair's sins, he couldn't have committed them entirely on his own. In a cricket match, there are always two umpires in the middle. During the ill-fated and ill-tempered Lord's Test match, one Billy Doctrove of Dominica, the latest member of the élite panel of umpires, stood with Mr. Hair.

Mr. Hair would clearly have been the senior umpire, which, however, would not have obviated the responsibilities of Mr. Doctrove. Indeed, the two umpires would have conferred when the issue of the ball-tampering arose, on the decision to change the ball and on the decision to dock the Pakistanis five runs.

Perhaps Mr. Hair was a bully and insisted on having his way, but that would be to assume Mr. Doctrove to be a wimp, who acquiesced in the face of a manifest wrong. Or, Mr. Doctrove agreed with Mr. Hair and went along with the decisions.

Either way, if the actions were wrong, Mr. Doctrove is guilty of a sin by either omission or commission.

We also find it surprising, and more than mildly ridiculous and disingenuous that Mr. Hair would be ridiculed, in the face of the contretemps around him, for suggesting a golden handshake for his early retirement. Clearly, Mr. Hair is pragmatic.

Cricket, after all, is no longer the virginal sport, the gentleman's game where achievement is for the greater glory. It is these days, for players and administrators, also cold, hard business. Ask the West Indies Players Association and the players from other teams who have struck or failed to go on tours over contract issues.

In the corporate world when employees, especially senior ones, no longer enjoy the confidence of their firms or arrive at positions of incompatibility, it is not unusual for the golden parachute to be deployed. Which is what Mr. Hair attempted to do.

His act only appears crass and insipid because the ICC, having initially appeared willing to entertain Mr. Hair, perhaps fearing being hoisted on the petard of its past ineptitude, contrived to make their employee appear whingeing and detached.

No one is coming out of this episode with glory.