Not surprisingly, Grant Rowley is white, and hasn't played for the Dolphins since 2004. "At the end of 2003/4, I should have been given a contract, it's as simple as that," he told BBC Sport. "I was passed over while guys who averaged mid-20s were given contracts." In a society aspiring to make right the wrongs of the past, and one where even cricket teams have targets when it comes to previously disadvantaged communities, you can only feel sorry for men like Rowley, who end up paying the price for the sins of their ancestors.

Yet, at the same time, it beggars belief that so little is written or said about those players of colour who missed out in the dark days of Apartheid. Thanks to England, the world got more than a glimpse of Basil D'Oliveira's talent. But how many more were there like him? As a cricket
journalist, it shames me to admit that I'm barely aware of any of the great coloured cricketers of that era. When we talk of the what-might-have-been generation of South African cricket, the names mentioned are almost always the same - Graeme Pollock, Mike Proctor, Barry Richards, Denis Lindsay, Eddie Barlow, Clive Rice and Vincent van der Bijl. Not a coloured face among them.

When you look at Makhaya Ntini run in with such elegance and power, you wonder who his predecessors were. When you see Herschelle Gibbs bat with unfettered abandon, as in that epic 175 against Australia, you wonder how many more there were like him whose talent was confined to the Cape Flats. For every Grant Rowley, there were dozens with darker skin that weren't even allowed near a cricket stadium in the old days. In a perfect world, Rowley wouldn't meet the same fate as those men. Unfortunately, we don't live in one.