"I had no choice": Gerard Sutton send Manly prop Josh Starling to the sin bin against Canterbury. Credit:Getty Images More than a year into the role, Greenberg hasn't brought clarity to the game. The game is a mess. The game is a conflagration of edicts, clampdowns, new rules and policy on the run. It used to be simple. It used to be fun. Now it's as complicated as rocket surgery, as American comedian Chris Rock might say. Greenberg sees a game that needs a NBA-style "shot clock" to save precious seconds as a goalkicker lines up a conversion, and an NHL-style bunker system for the video referees to get a basic call right. Like many others, I see a game that is being trashed by the wrestle, with lengthy stoppages in play because of a gun-shy video referee who so often gets the call wrong. Then there's the match review committee. The match review committee! Jesus wept.

Off he goes: Bulldogs player Reni Maitua is sent off. Credit:Getty Images Cowboys coach Paul Green was slugged $10,000 for dispassionately saying he has no faith in the match review committee. Luckily, I can't be fined if I say it, although the NRL might revoke my Dally M invite, with a bit of luck. The gibberfest was there for all to see on Monday, as we watched our inboxes and clicked refresh, anxiously waiting for the charges from the match review committee to come flooding in. Then a club boss informs you there were no charges. Um, come again? No charges? Bulldogs forward Josh Jackson reefs back the arm of Manly's Josh Starling in a classic chicken-wing tackle. Not only does he reef it back, but he gives it another twist for good measure.

Jackson doesn't earn a charge … but Roosters back-rower Aidan Guerra cops a week for his chicken wing on Dylan Walker? And George Burgess cops two matches for his chicken wing on Steve Matai? Or Ben Te'o on Sam Thaiday? A week ago, Roosters prop Jared Waerea-Hargreaves doesn't earn a charge for his swinging arm that collected the head of Penrith prop Brent Kite, but players miss matches because for dangerous throws that they have little control over. The game's suits are very concerned about player welfare, we're told. That's why we got rid of the shoulder charge and had the concussion clampdown. But swinging arms are sweet, boys. Oh, and chicken wings this week, according to the match review committee. Maybe not next week, though, so be careful. You've got a better chance of picking Powerball than the charges that will or won't come down on Monday morning.

The most disturbing remark from Greenberg's mouth came earlier this month when he showed his lack of care or understanding when it comes to eradicating the wrestle - which is easily the game's most pertinent issue. "That's probably a question more for coaches, on how they play," he told Fairfax Media. No, Todd, it's a question for you. It's your game. You're the head of football. Souths have overtaken Melbourne as the experts in the dark art of wrestling, but it was their coach Michael Maguire who made the most prophetic comment about minimising its dangers - double the penalties. Hardly rocket surgery. What else?

Everyone's in a lather right now about the one-punch rule after Starling and Bulldogs veteran Reni Maitua were marched for 10 minutes last Saturday night because they lost their heads in the heat of battle. "I don't have a choice," referee Gerard Sutton told Starling. And that's precisely what is wrong with the game. He should have a choice. It's called discretion. He should be able to rule that a left-hand jab that was so innocuous it was only picked up by the video referee is different to a player throwing a dozen upper-cuts like it's an Origin from the 1980s. It was Smith who rushed in the one-punch rule after he received a sternly worded letter from a high school principal following Paul Gallen's punch to Nate Myles' prodigious head during Origin I last year. Image of the game, and all that. Meanwhile, players clandestinely drop knees into the calves of ball-carriers, and perform other various "dog shots", and they play on with impunity on the field and without sanction off it. Now, whenever a punch is thrown, we have a lengthy on-field cross-examination that goes longer than the courtroom scene in A Few Good Men, and a player is in the bin for 10. And that brings us to the speed of the game.

An idea: how about we put a shot clock on the video referee? He looks at nine replays and camera angles to determine if it's a 20m restart or a drop-out, not if it's a try. It's as exciting as Stilnox without the Red Bull. Maybe put a shot clock on the trainers, too. Remember when injured players used to hand the ball to a teammate, and play would continue, as he was treated in the back play? Now the game stops if a player has cramp, or has a minor cut on his head, and we all wait around for the play to resume after he's been treated. I could go on. The obstruction rule, the number of unpunished forward passes out of dummy half, players offside in golden point trying to stop a field goal …

Last month, Greenberg trumpeted a review of refereeing across the game. It cannot come quick enough. Because, notwithstanding Daniel Tupou's one-handed take and Trent Hodkinson's courage and ice-cool field goal and myriad brilliant things that happen in every match, the game is a mess. After his side's dramatic win over Manly, Bulldogs hardman James Graham said: "There were times out there when there was a massive poo sandwich, and everyone needed to take a bite." The league fan has the same taste in their mouth on most weekends. Greenberg wants to run rugby league, he says, but his time isn't now. In the meantime, there's the not-so-minor matter of what's happening on the field that requires his undivided attention.