I wish it wasn't. I wish it hadn't happened. But it did - and there's no point in calling it anything other than what it is.
It's cheating. The most famous living chessplayer in the world took his hand off the piece, went to press the clock, realised his move was an error, put his hand back on the piece and moved it to another square. Unfortunately, that's cheating.
It doesn't cease to be cheating because the arbiter didn't step in and it doesn't cease to be cheating because the opponent didn't make a complaint. It was a conscious, flagrant and serious breach of the laws of chess which you or I would neither expect to make nor to get away with if we did. It was cheating.
You can get away with cheating because nobody detects it. That's not the case here. You can get away with cheating because everything happens so fast and nobody thinks to act before it's too late. That might be the case here (and was probably the case here) although I doubt that absence of time was the only element in play. But even if you do get away with it, it's still cheating.
But you can also get away with cheating if you're a massively important and famous person and other people are likely to hesitate before challenging you.
You know, in some ways it's the non-application of the rules, when an infraction occurs, that turns a spontaneous, panicky reaction into cheating. If the rules are applied then the player is penalised, he or she apologises, everybody moves on. If the rules are not applied it's then that we get the controversy, the pretend-excuses, the damaged reputation, the bad taste in the mouth.
Do the rules suddenly stop applying when you're a world-class player? Of course they don't. So apply them.
Now this has happened more than once - more than once this year, more than once in Kasparov's career - then all the more reason to be concerned that the rules of our sport are being applied on the basis of who you are, rather than what you have actually done.
Because this was cheating. And it left a bad taste in the mouth.