Hands or no hands? It is one of the questions of our rugby times as we approach zero hour. The G20 and the ELVs : recession in the economy and depression on the field. Board up your banks and your rugby clubs.

I'm not sure the accursed experimental law variations are to blame for all rugby's ills. The lack of a decent scrummaging contest in the Six Nations - except in Rome for Italy-Wales, the nearest we came to a dramatic upset - was more to do with the application of OL (old laws), although the speed with which a free-kick was given rather than a re-set ordered revealed how obsessed the game has become with the ball-in-play statistic. And those figures were very much at the heart of the drive to make the game less difficult to play, watch and referee.

Referees were nobbled twice at the start of the northern season, when the implementation of our version of the ELVs coincided with the "protocol" that dropped through their letterbox – the instruction to be extra vigilant at the post-tackle area. That was meant to be a reminder that the contest for the ball after the tackle had to be fair after figures from the 2007 World Cup showed 95% of ruck ball came back on the side of the team in possession.

The game, to be fair to this quest for fairness, recovered from the shock of refs blowing the peep out of their whistle. There is no such thing as "fair" at the rugby ruck and it just took refs and players a while to sort out new tolerance levels. Zero was never going to work. That would be rugby league.

One thing was clear, however: that it was dangerous to be caught in isolation. And that played its part in the ping-pong of punting, which seems to have become the brand of 2009, the stain on the game.

I don't think it would take much to re-issue another protocol to refs, that the scrummage, for all the minutes it may eat up, must be a pushing contest, a collective duel that serves the purpose of sifting those that can from those that can't. Those that can't are currently left fresh enough to run around in the 80th minute and if you want an example of what is unfair in rugby union, that is precisely it.

I'd vote for the return of the maul, despite it too eating up the minutes. It plays its part, all part of the variety of the game and underlines the promise that rugby isn't basketball. Nothing wrong with basketball; it just isn't rugby.

There is nothing wrong with another of those peculiarities that sets rugby union apart, the lineout. I love all the boosting and arching and one-handed catching - some of the most iconic images of the game result from the action high above the ground, the only time "aerial" is used as a compliment. (Do you remember incidentally the reaction to the new lineout laws that permitted boosting, and the fears that there would be no contest for possession?)

That leaves the breakdown, the post-tackle area. Rucks are the badlands, governed by weak law and vigilante protocol. And the question remains after all the good intentions to make the area a fair contest: hands or no hands?

I'd go for no hands. As soon as the ball goes to ground, hands off is the absolute law. No immediate placing, unless it is a stretch for the try. If you're tackled to the ground you must let go, without turning or twisting or readjusting.

This would reward the good tackle that turns the ball-carrier to face the defending side, and place him, who has not managed his possession well, in danger. "No hands" would mean a return to rucking, with feet and boots the tools of release and potential damage.

It remains the fear that full-on rucking comes complete with scalped heads and gushing blood. Well, I'd rather run that risk than leave players in the position of being on their feet yet bent over the ball with spinal column exposed to the opposition.

Rucking is a fundamental part of the game, adored by participants since the days of the foot-rush, when hacking (at opponents' legs) was perfectly legitimate. Rucking produces sweet ball even when large numbers of defending forwards are drawn into the contest.

And it seems to me that the moment has passed when it was assumed that a professional union game would descend into bloodshed. The citing system works well. Violence is not a threat or, if it is, it is nothing to the tedious rhythms of the game as it stands at the moment.

Windsor a towering force

This has nothing to do with the Lions to South Africa 2009, but in 1974 ...

The best player I ever played with was Bobby Windsor, hooker of Pontypool, Wales and the Lions. When he was selected to go to South Africa he was very much the second-choice behind John Pullen, but by the time he returned he was very much the No 1 hooker, 17 stone of honed, low-angled propulsion.

Our Bob was a very skilful player, the heart and soul of a particularly destructive scrummage and rolling maul (if ever mauling is re-introduced it might be worth giving Bob a ring).

He was – is – also great company, a gravel-voiced hoot who cannot but say it as he sees it. He was also – and I am reminded by the above reference to the threat of violence – quite the filthiest player you'd never wish to find standing over you at a ruck.

On the Lions tour of 1977 to New Zealand he was overtaken by another wonderful hooker, who shared many of the traits of cruelty, Peter Wheeler, but for a couple of seasons Bobby Windsor was a towering force in the game.

Just to show how things can go wrong on a Lions tour – no, no, not 2005 – but 1983. Preparing for the final Test in Auckland, the tourists were trying to work out their kick-off reception protocol, which had been causing quite a few problems in the first three Tests, all won by New Zealand.

Since the player who shouted "Mine," had regularly been taken out, it was decided that a dummy caller should be used. The first "Mine" was the feint while the second was by the real catcher. This served only to confuse the supporting players, caught between a choice of two bodies to protect.

So, in the end, the person who was going to catch the ball was the only one who didn't say anything. All "Mines" were like "window", the aluminium foil strips dropped in the second world war to fool German radar.

New Zealand kicked off. Up went both the ball and a volley of shouts on the Lions side. Nobody moved, except Andy Haden, the All Black second row, and within seconds the Lions were back near their own goalline. Sometimes in rugby you can analyse your way only into trouble. The ELVs have been a bit like that.