There are lots of things in this world that are legal but not good. Things like tax avoidance, the state of the rental market, smoking around children, Jack Whitehall.

For years, the great legal-but-not-good of cricket has been the Mankad. The act of running out an opposition batter who was gaining an extra yard or two at the non-striker’s end. But now, we may have a new one: tactically retiring out.

On Sunday, a seismic moment in T20 cricket occurred as Indian international and professional loophole finder Ravichandran Ashwin became the first batter in IPL history to retire himself out for tactical reasons. And it worked. Ashwin had made 28 off 23 balls to help his side recover from 67-4, before ducking out with ten balls to go to allow teammate Riyan Parag, a stronger power hitter, to finish the innings. Parag hit 8 off 4 and and the Royals would go on to win by three runs. It was smart. It was clever. And I didn’t like it.

As a concept, the idea of retiring out an underperforming batter is another example of cricket’s efforts to discover its optimal strategy. Let’s get from A to B as quickly as possible and with ruthless efficiency. It also plays into cricket’s bizarre and often pretentious relationship with the notion of fair play. Just like the frowned-upon Mankad, retiring out is legal, so quit your whinging and play on.

But the main difference I see between the two, is that where the Mankad is an act that lets you prevent the opposition from gaining an unfair advantage on you (brilliant, play on), retiring out prevents the opposition from gaining the fair advantage of your batting poorly. This is elite sport. If you’re not up to the job at hand, the opposition deserves the benefit of that.

The battle at the crease is an intrinsic part of cricket. It’s why a bowler can’t be hooked off mid over. It’s why we love Test cricket; battles develop over time and it’s why we’re fascinated by T20s as certain match-ups dictate and decide games.

And Ashwin’s retirement is a confirmation of that, it’s just from a differing, and admittedly more pragmatic, viewpoint. “This is really important. I realise that I’m not the best man for the job. I’m out of here.” He’s the gladiator who realised he didn’t need to fight in order to win. But imagine if Russell Crowe had said that. Screaming, “Are you not entertained?” as he wandered off in search of a favourable match-up. So, I’m really sorry Ravichandran, but I’m going to need you to get back out there.

It is a point made by Tim Wigmore and Freddie Wilde in their book Cricket 2.0: just because cricket has long considered the battle in the middle as part of the sport, doesn’t mean that it has to be. As Ashwin proved, it is well within the laws to instead consider time in the middle as a resource that can be tactically ended. And not an experience that has to be endured until its bitter end.

Ultimately, sport operates on the basis that everyone individually is trying their best. It has to, because as soon as you depart from that you move to a weird place. Teams deciding to try and drop catches to keep batters in, batters trying to get out. Cricketing double speak. Alright Simpson, let’s go over the signals. If I tuck the bill of my cap like so it means the signal is a fake. However, I can take that off by dusting my hands thusly. If I want you to bunt, I will touch my belt buckle not once, not twice, but thrice.

Please, guys. Just have a bat.

Furthermore, as things stand, retiring out currently robs the bowling side of one of the main benefits of losing a wicket in T20 cricket. That the delivery was also a dot ball. Almost all dismissals register a ball recorded; it should be the same with retiring. In a sport that goes down to the last over as often as it does in T20, such fine margins can make all the difference.

It is also an innovation only available to the batting side. If a batter can retire midway through an over to gain a favourable match-up, surely the bowling team should be able to too? Imagine it’s the last over of an innings. The bowling choice has been made, with a slow left-armer introduced, so the right hander walks off to get the leftie in. What happens then? Does the bowling choice change again? What happens if the batter retires out a ball into the over so the bowling choice can’t change? Simpson, note I am touching my belt buckle thusly.

Ultimately, maybe it’s a case of my not liking change and that the cut-throat tactic of retiring a batter out is indeed the future. And I more than agree that athletes like Ashwin deserve praise for pushing the boundaries and finding an edge over the opposition. But in that case, it is up to the sport’s governing bodies to consider whether that edge is for the good of the sport – and if so, let it become the norm – or to its detriment, and close the loophole. It is my opinion that it should be closed.