When it comes to the grapple tackle, rugby league worry warts seem to be blowing up worse than Blocker Roach trying to tie his shoe laces.

You know the head-turner I’m talking about – it’s like the Heimlich manoeuvre (used for getting chicken bones out of throats) – only applied to the head and neck instead of the thoracic region.

Apart from one slight side-effect – the likelihood of quadriplegia if the victim’s vertebrae gets too good a working over – surely this is good, if not great, for the game.

In fact I think every time I watch the Melbourne Storm go the gang grapple, I feel I am watching the unnatural evolution of rugby league.

It is morphing into a hell of a hybrid of World Championship Wrestling – ahhh … now there was great sport.

Every week as the Channel 9 commentary gets more buffoonish (wink, wink, nod, nod, say no more Vossy and Gus) and the decisions of the attention-deficit-disordered adjudicating officials more outlandish, I get the feeling that I’m being transported back to those good old Sunday mornings of my shallow youth.

Back then you had four choices when watching television on this rest day – How to Grow Haemorrhoids with political bore BA Santamaria, the Ecumenical Mass on the ABC, Tonight Italian (or was it Greek?) Style with big-boobed singers warbling in some lingo or WCW.

Those culture vultures out there who poo poo all things sport obviously were not raised on these staged wrestling broadcasts from Festival Hall.

For each week, here were battles of conquest with underlying themes of Shakespearean richness … or a good Marvel superhero comic book.

Take for example Brute Barnard “smashing” snivelling whimp Larry O’Dea’s windpipe with a nasty elbow or Killer Kowalski ramming Spiros “The Golden Greek” Arion’s head into the turnbuckle after the final bell yelling – “I want my belt back, greaser boy (this was pre-political correctness), even if I have to eat your liver!”

It kinda has the same pathos as King Richard III in the heat of battle yelling: “A horse! a horse! My kingdom for a horse!"

Think about it … er … well moving right along I’d like to see coach Craig Bellamy and other NRL pioneers take this all a step further.

I say put less effort into the grapple – ease the pressure boys – relax and play the game more for laughs.

I’d like to see say, Ryan “Hell Boy” Hoffman, when tackling big Petero, renamed Hannibal the Fijian Cannibal, on the fifth and last apply The Sleeper hold … thereby negating any chance of a kick and those dangerous Steve Price-type charge downs that might hurt someone.

And instead of having flops in tackles a la Glenn Lazarus, introduce a bit of the flare and style of Haystacks Calhoun of WCW fame going the Atomic Drop on Gorgeous George or King Curtis – the “Hawaiian” royal who did not know a good lei from ... a good lay ... as in down.

And wouldn’t the Newcastle fans right at this moment love a bit of spontaneous player reaction at half time by way of the side picking up the sideline seats and whacking coach Brian “What, Me Worry?” Smith over the melon.

If he was in the blood bin - say for the 2008 season – they might just get somewhere. And lastly fellas, the game may have some genuine characters but you need masks – big, scary ugly ones like the American wrestlers love to play up in.

I know that Bulldog Mark “Ogre” O’Meley is leading the way with that Shrek mask he’s been wearing since he debuted in first grade, but it should really be green – not red/purple. That is a mask he is wearing … right?