Many will be bemused that the suggestion of scuff marks on a scrap of red leather could so consume attention on two continents. As sports stories go, the forfeiture by Pakistan of the fourth Test at the Oval is unique, and its ripples across the cricket world are understandable. But “sports” stories can be compelling only because they involve human strengths and weaknesses. In this case, those concerned made such a rash of ill-considered judgments, fuelled by pride, self- righteousness and a lack of common sense, that they should be packaged into a corporate training video about how not to manage a crisis.

First lesson is that the nuclear button cannot be unpressed. Darrell Hair, the Australian umpire, is experienced enough in both Test appearan-ces and controversy to know that in ruling that Pakistan had tampered with the ball he was doing far more than awarding five runs to England. Equally misguided was the refusal of Inzamam-ul-Haq, the Pakistan captain, to lead his team out even after being warned that a failure to do so would result in Pakistan forfeiting the match. Pakistan’s subsequent, un- accompanied appearance on the field of play suggested they realised they had made a tactical blunder, kissing goodbye to public understanding as well as the match.

Lesson No 2 is that although rules are rules (except in cricket where they are laws), there must be room for sensible flexibility. Good umpires are valued for more than their ability to make difficult decisions involving fast-moving balls and fractions of inches. Like good football referees, their stature depends in part on their ability to build a rapport with players. They should seek to calm flashpoints rather than inflame them. Hair could have acted on his suspicions, initially at least, with a warning to Pakistan’s captain that he was unhappy with the state of the ball.

Lesson No 3 is for the cricket authorities: if you are entertaining a full house, many of whom have decided to ignore the opening day of the Premiership in favour of the cricket, it is spectacularly inept to tell them nothing about the lack of activity in front of them. After 12 months in which the England team have stuttered rather than capitalised on last year’s Ashes euphoria, such treatment of spectators smacks of dangerous complacency.

The affair remains murky, and will not clear without two things. The authorities must produce the ball rather than squirrelling it into a safe, as has happened in previous ball-tampering incidents. Umpires suffer trial by replay of their leg-before decisions; independent experts, and the cricketing public, should likewise be allowed to see if they believe that the ball’s wear and tear looks unnatural.

And Hair must explain himself. His instincts may have been understandable. Both sides have their histories. But unless he saw a Pakistan player doctoring the ball, he looks to have acted like a police constable who, encountering a home with a broken window, rounds up the youths in the street outside before seeing if the breakage was caused from within. This could be worse. It is not yet the “international incident” that some past cricketing firestorms have become. Pakistan will, it is hoped, continue their tour. Relations between the players remain good. But cricket, like no other game, relies on respect for the decisions of its officials. To earn that, the authorities must raise their game.