Last Friday night's extra-time match between the Broncos and the Roosters was gripping and beautiful, right down to the final play when Brisbane halfback Ben Hunt slipped through the defensive line to score the match-winning try. High shot: Tyson Frizell collects Tim Browne high. Credit:Channel Nine The game had crackled from the opening whistle, and much of it had to do with Roosters cranky pants Jared Waerea-Hargreaves and Broncos counterpart Sam Thaiday declaring war on each other from the first minute. They went looking for one another whenever the ball went their way. After each tackle, they would wrestle and shove and push and butt heads like bighorn sheep. They had no other choice. Since NRL boss Dave Smith rushed in the edict two years ago that punching would end in automatic time in the sin bin, the laws of the jungle have changed. It was compelling stuff nonetheless.

After the third or fourth time the players waltzed around, and players from both sides came rushing in, referee Gerard Sutton pulled the respective captains aside. He then delivered a remark that surely broke the hearts of many rugby league fans. Somewhere in the world, a solitary tear rolled down Peter Kelly's cheek. Tipping point: NSW forward Paul Gallen punches Queensland forward Nate Myles during the first match of the 2013 State of Origin series at ANZ Stadium. Credit:Getty Images "You don't have to throw a punch to be sent off," Sutton advised. "If people come in and push and shove they will go to the sidelines." Um, excuse me? Come again? Watching from the comfort of the armchair, nestling a hot chocolate, it didn't seem real. Thankfully for the magic of television, and Foxtel IQ, you can rewind time, which would also be a handy function for real life, not least at Royal Randwick on the second day of The Championships.

Alas, Sutton had said it. No pushing and shoving? NO PUSHING AND SHOVING? WHAT FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DOES THAT MEAN? It means the game is in a precarious position. Fast-forward to Sunday afternoon at ANZ Stadium. A return to the scene of the crime for the Bulldogs after the heady events of Good Friday against South Sydney. Bulldogs prop Tim Browne is carting the ball up. Jack De Belin goes low first, then fellow Dragons forward Tyson Frizell goes high … "Wooshka!" as they say in the classics. Frizell's swinging left arm collects Browne flush in the head, knocking him out cold. The break in play as the Bulldogs player is helped on to a stretcher and then a medicab is worryingly long.

Bulldogs players gather round, peering over the shoulders of support staff and medicos, hoping the best for their injured comrade. The longer the wait, the more the Channel Nine cameras focus on Frizell's concerned face, the more you think the first send-off since Kade Snowden in round 24, 2013, is imminent. But no. Instead, Frizell is placed on report and allowed to stay on the field. So let's get this straight… Players can be threatened with the sin bin for "pushing and shoving", they can definitely be sent from the field for throwing a punch in anger, but they won't be sent off or even sin-binned for knocking a player out with a reckless or careless or whatever-you-want-to-call-it swinging arm? It might take a priest to explain that one to me.

The decision not to send off Frizell is probably justified, because we've seen tackles like that happen on a regular basis, with no send-off forthcoming. Dragons coach Paul McGregor is right: it's a timing thing. There was no malice or intent. But the wild discrepancy in on-field sanctions for foul or illegal play is another clear inconsistency the NRL must address. Smith banned punching after Origin I in 2013 after Paul Gallen threw one which collected the prodigious chin of Nate Myles, and schools threatened to ban rugby league if something wasn't done about violence in the game. Does a player throwing a punch deter a young mum from letting their child play? Or does a player staying on the field after an ugly high tackle? Or both? Nevertheless, the game is at a crossroads, as it tries to strike a balance between physicality and toughness and what Wayne Bennett last week described as "warrior instincts".

Players privately and widely report the banning of punching has resulted in grubby "dog shots" behind the play: sly elbows and knees for retribution for previous discretions from earlier in the play. Instead, when players come together like Thaiday and Waerea-Hargreaves did last Friday, it allows a score of teammates to come flooding in, chests puffed out, knowing that they can talk trash with impunity, because no player will throw a punch. As Mike Tyson once said: "Everyone has a plan till they get punched in the mouth." The consequence is it delays and slows down the match. What would've happened if Sutton let Thaiday and Waerea-Hargreaves throw some punches, which would've ended within seconds, and told them, "Righto, that's enough. You've had your go, get back and don't do it again. Next time, I'll bin you."

That's how the game used to roll, when whistleblowers had the authority and confidence to control the game. Instead, they are being forced to reinforce rules and a framework designed to sanitise and homogenise a tough, warrior code. There is no place for outright thuggery in rugby league. But there is also no place for the faint-hearted, when push comes to shove.