by Tony Cozier

Denesh Ramdin needs to pay serious attention to his mobility, says former West Indies wicketkeeper Jeff Dujon © Getty Images

Once rightly regarded as the West Indies' next run-scoring wicketkeeper, and even spoken of as a potential captain, Denesh Ramdin is fighting for form and his place in the team. Six weeks away from the first World Cup to be staged in the Caribbean, his struggles in both departments and the dearth of realistic alternatives are major causes for concern.

He committed more errors than is acceptable during the series in Pakistan late last year and has again lapsed in the ongoing Pepsi Cup against India while he has been repeatedly out to indiscreet shots. It is a frustrating decline for a cricketer of genuine promise.

In West Indies age-group teams at the Under-15 World Cup in England and the Under-19 version in Bangladesh, when he was captain, Ramdin was so impressive he went straight into the senior team, aged 20, once Ridley Jacobs departed after six solid years in the position.

He was outstanding with both gloves and bat in his initial series with the strike-hit team in Sri Lanka in 2005 and again in three Tests in Australia later that year but his standards have markedly fallen since. The selectors alternated him with the diminutive Jamaican, Carlton Baugh, in the last six ODI series but neither has seized the opportunity to claim the position as exclusively theirs.

The only other practical option is the West Indies A team keeper, Patrick Browne of Barbados. But he has been short of runs in the current domestic season and out of the Barbados team in the current Carib Beer Cup match against Jamaica.

Jeffrey Dujon, the most capped West Indies keeper with 81 Tests and 169 ODIs between 1981 and 1991, believes Ramdin might have slipped into a "comfort zone" after his early successes. "I sense that he hasn't appreciated the intensity needed at the highest level," said Dujon, who followed Ramdin in series in West Indies, India and Pakistan as television commentator over the past nine months.

"He's got to take his work ethic to another plane," he added. "He's got to pay serious attention to his mobility. For someone of his physical build, his foot speed is sluggish. He's trusting his hands more than he should."

Dujon revealed he had spoken on the matter with assistant coach David Moore, himself a former New South Wales wicketkeeper in Australian state cricket. "He accepted my comments and told me he was working with Ramdin to iron out the problems," he said. "What he needs is a set programme to be strictly followed."

Dujon also had doubts about Ramdin's fitness. "As the game wears on, I notice he's not staying down long enough, a sure sign of weariness that leads to elementary mistakes.” What bothers Dujon is that, on all the early evidence, Ramdin possesses the ability to maintain the legacy of West Indian wicketkeeper-batsmen such as Gerry Alexander, the Murrays (Deryck and David), himself and Jacobs over the past 40 years.

Ramdin's story is symptomatic of so many young West Indians of recent times who have made an immediate impression at Test level only to just as quickly deteriorate. It might well be that it all comes too easily, too early and they take success for granted.

Ramdin turns 22 next month, so there is plenty of time left for him to get back the groove again. It is up to him. The final match in the Pepsi Cup tomorrow would be a timely starting point. An unblemished day behind the stumps and some valuable runs would do wonders for his confidence and settle a place in the World Cup squad that remains open.

© Trinidad and Tobago Express

Martin Williamson

Kenya's Steve Tikolo and Bermuda's Irvine Romaine get the World Cricket League underway. Both countries field home-grown players ... but not all those participating can say the same © ICC

With the exception of Bermuda, cricket is not a mainstream sport in any of the participants. And yet it survives, and in some instances thrives, despite the lack of attention and a relatively small number of enthusiasts.

The ICC, who do sterling work in supporting the game's second and third tiers, will rightly use the event to highlight that cricket is not just about the Indians and Australias of the world.

But there remains a nagging worry. The ICC boasts that the game is spreading across the world. But is that right? Is it taking root or is it surviving because more people from its hotbed - south-east Asia - are emigrating and keeping it alive for the duration of their careers?

In last year's Wisden Almanack, Matthew Engel raised this very issue. "Overwhelmingly, the game in non-traditional countries is played by expatriates, mostly South Asian. Journalists were kidded into believing that cricket was about to burst on China, on the basis of some warm comments by civil servants and a couple of coaching courses. I have seen not one shred of evidence to back this up. Are the kids playing with tapeballs on the streets of Shanghai? Are they heck!"

Take Canada. Of the squad in Nairobi at the moment, only three were born in the country, and two of those are over 35. Of the rest, five come from the Caribbean, four from India and each from Pakistan and Uganda. Whereas other Associates have a smattering of expats, Canada are utterly reliant on them.

Engel's comment attracted fierce criticism from those who either argued that England had more than their share of "imports" or that the game only spread in Asia, Africa, Australasia and the Caribbean through expats playing it in the first place.

The worry in some countries is that rather the game is not being continued by the second and third generations but is only being maintained by a steady flow of new immigrants

The worry in some countries - and again I come back to Canada - is that rather the game is not being continued by the second and third generations but is only being maintained by a steady flow of new immigrants. Canada's cricket heritage is rich but there is little sign that it has been built on. This is best underlined by the selection of former West Indies international Anderson Cummins. Forty years old and without a major match to his name since 1995-96, he made his debut in Mombasa last week. What message does that send out about the strength in depth of cricket in Canada?

It's not just Canada. Look at the USA, whose 2004 Champions Trophy side was a collection of ageing expats whose performances verged on the disgraceful. And the UAE, which is almost entirely dependant on its ex-pat workforce to keep the game alive.

Cricket's expansion should not be about filling teams with expats and expecting the locals to get excited about it. The only way cricket can gain a foothold in emerging countries is by actually getting the indigenous population to embrace the game, and two excellent examples where this is happening are Nepal and Uganda.

Anderson Cummins of Barbados, West Inbies ... and now Canada © Eddie Norfolk

Cricket is in trouble in its traditional homes in Africa - Zimbabwe are hell-bent on destruction and South Africa seems to be falling out of love with the game. So efforts should be made in Uganda . And in Asia, which everyone accepts is the game's stronghold, a side like Nepal should really be given the leg up. It's about targeting rather than a scattergun approach.

In fairness to the ICC, they have a tough time and a lot of countries scrambling for a share of the spoils. It's about weeding out the weak and really looking to grow the game in areas where it has the best chance of taking root. It's an almost impossible ask. Look at the repeated failure of American Football to crack Europe ... and if football itself still battles for acceptance outside expats and schools in the USA, then the size of the ICC's task becomes clear.

Of course expats have a key role to play in expansion. But if the game is basically played by them, is it the game spreading or is it more about diehards clinging to the traditions of their homelands? In the UK there are baseball and American football sides, but they are almost all expat Americans and so few would seriously claim the games have taken hold. However, basketball and ice hockey are widely played by locals, boosted by some imported players and expats, and, crucially, the national side can stand on its own two feet. That's the difference.

Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

Without games on the domestic circuit to prove himself, Virender Sehwag tries to regain his touch through practice games © AFP

Three one-dayers, three openers, three half-centuries - a triumphant 98 for Sourav Ganguly, a confident 69 for Gautam Gambhir, and a ferocious 41-ball 70 for Robin Uthappa. All three, curiously, batting on the comeback trail. What it adds up to is problems for Virender Sehwag, who, having fallen from the heights of vice-captaincy to the depths of discard in the span of three months, finds himself in a world of quiet introspection.

Not so long ago the most destructive batsman in world cricket, Sehwag has been passed over both times the squad for the current series was chosen; his existence on the fringes has prompted the Delhi and Districts Cricket Association to organise practice games for him. Without games on the domestic circuit to prove himself - barring a solitary Ranji one-dayer against Jammu & Kashmir on February 10 - that's all he can fall back on.

One such match was at the Ferozeshah Kotla in Delhi on Monday; playing for Delhi A, on a sluggish pitch where stroke-makers struggled for timing, he scored 49 off 46 balls, finding the meat of the bat often enough to penetrate a packed off-side field. He didn't open but walked in at No.3 and was confident through his 58-minute stay. He was given one life on 19 but also hit six boundaries, including one straight drive in his typical stand-and-deliver style, before holing out trying to loft over the extra-cover fielder standing at the edge of inner circle.

Sehwag's last competitive outing was on January 10, when, having returned from a forgettable trip to South Africa, he cracked a finely-paced 106, from the middle order, against Haryana at Rohtak. Two days later he was dropped from the Indian team - the only other time he was axed was since his miserable ODI debut against Pakistan at Mohali. Dileep Vengsarkar, the chairman of selectors, hoped he would "go back to the nets and sort out his cricket, his batting basically".

Nobody can argue with that. Since the start of this season he's averaged 14.8 in ten matches, with just one fifty. He's gone through lean patches in the past - some may even argue that he's hardly attained any consistency in one-dayers - but the phase that comes closest is probably early in his career in 2001. He averaged 11.4 in eight innings before bouncing back with a mind-blowing century against New Zealand in Colombo. This time there was no such innings, just a forced break instead.

So what's he done over the last few weeks? He's gone back, lost weight, grown a French beard, returned to the Government Boys Senior Secondary School at Vikas Puri, studying videos of his dismissals with AN Sharma, his long-time coach

So what's he done over the last few weeks? He's gone back, lost weight, grown a French beard, returned to the Government Boys Senior Secondary School at Vikas Puri - his alma mater - and gone back to Batting 101, studying videos of his dismissals with AN Sharma, his long-time coach.

Sharma points out the two major focus areas: analysing his dismissals and trying to bat long periods. "We asked him to see his videos - how he's been getting out recently", Sharma told Cricinfo. "The aim was to find out what he wasn't doing correctly."

After seeing the videos, Sehwag would have a turn with the bat and Sharma would try and ensure the mistakes weren't repeated.

For example, in South Africa he was regularly getting out by slashing over the slips to third man - the prime example being in the third ODI at Cape Town, when he was out for a duck, caught by Andrew Hall in the deep off Shaun Pollock, in the very first over. " We worked on that.
"Secondly we worked on his focus. We gave him a challenge - in 60 minutes of batting, even though it was only against amateur bowlers, don't get out at any cost. He had to stay at the wicket and play his natural game without getting out even once."

But wouldn't it have helped Sehwag if he'd more time in the middle? Vijay Dahiya, the former Indian wicketkeeper and a close friend of Sehwag's, doesn't think so. "He's got a much-needed break," says Dahiya. "While playing constantly you don't realise what's going wrong with your game. He's had a chance to think about it. I've met him in this period and chatted with him.

"It's tough to gauge Veeru's confidence levels by talking to him - he's the same irrespective of what - but he likes to have long talks with his close friend. He keeps asking you questions - 'What's happening, what are you noticing, what am I doing wrong etc'. I think it's helped."

The selectors won't get to see much of Sehwag before they sit down to pick the World Cup squad. Maybe two games against Sri Lanka - if he's picked - or it will have to be just one Ranji ODI. They'll either have to go by past record - he was India's highest run-scorer in the ODIs in West Indies last year - potentially explosive quality, and allround value or decide to take the drastic step of leaving him behind. The first is almost a given, the second almost unthinkable. Almost.

Herschelle Gibbs: will miss one Test, one Twenty20 and one ODI © AFP

Telford Vice

There are times when the International Cricket Council deserves nothing so much as a smack around the head. The ICC's handling of the Gibbs saga was not one of those times.

Of course, the suits can't be expected to get everything right, and there was some messiness in the form of Gibbs' ban being tweaked to include a Twenty20 game in the guise of a one-day international.

But the dismissal of his appeal should engender confidence in all who care about the game - and about its place in the modern world - that the ICC is capable of making the right decision on important matters.

Might Gibbs have appealed at all had his offence not fallen under level three of the code of conduct, which brought race into the equation? Part of this regulation governs "any language or gestures that offends, insults, humiliates, intimidates, threatens, disparages or vilifies another person on the basis of that person's race, religion, colour, descent or national or ethic origin".

Quite how Gibbs and his representatives came to the opinion that calling Pakistani supporters a "fucking bunch of fucking animals" and telling them to "fuck off back to the zoo" was not a violation of the above would surely boggle greater minds than mine.

Richie Benaud saw matters differently to Gibbs and the original charges stuck. Just as importantly, Benaud took pains not to brand Gibbs a racist. Which would seem to mean that it was Gibbs' crime - and not Gibbs himself - that was the target of the action the ICC took.

Semantics? Not if you have, as Benaud would seem to do, an understanding of South Africa's murky race politics. For a start, some South Africans would describe Gibbs as black. Others would call him coloured, which is probably what he calls himself.

Still others will label him a Khoisan, and another bunch will refuse to classify him. The truly weird will refer to Gibbs as a so-called coloured, and make little quotation marks in the air with their index fingers as they do so.

But Gibbs' race is irrelevant in all this. It's the race of the target of his words that matters, and they were plainly Asian or of Asian descent.

In those terms, who can be surprised that Gibbs' epithets pushed all the wrong buttons of the people who heard them when they were broadcast live courtesy of the stump microphones?

Speaking of which, Benaud, of course, has an intimate knowledge of cricketing life on both sides of the mike. "If you do not use the words they do not get to air," was his bulletproof advice. If this needs reinforcement, and it shouldn't, here it is: the stump mike did not say anything, Herschelle Gibbs did.

Take a bow, Mr Benaud. Not forgetting Chris Broad, the match referee whose findings were vindicated. Amazing, isn't it, what a couple of sensible blokes can achieve.

Andrew Miller

Where it all began .... the scars of the 1992 World Cup final defeat still exist © Getty Images

There was Alec Stewart, worth his place for his strokeplay alone but utterly invaluable as a wicketkeeper and second-in-command to Gooch. There was Allan Lamb, as bristling a middle-order batsman as has ever existed, and a man who once stole an ODI for England by slamming Bruce Reid for 18 in the final over. And propping up the lower-middle order there was a quartet of genuine allround talent in Chris Lewis, Phil DeFreitas, Dermot Reeve and Derek Pringle.


It's the sort of multi-dimensional line-up that Duncan Fletcher has spent seven fruitless years trying to emulate. Even the No. 11, the job-a-day left-arm spinner, Richard Illingworth, had four first-class centuries to his name. Oh yeah, and then there was whatsitsname ... you know, thingummy ... that bloke who opened the batting and chipped in when needed with his portly medium-pacers. When the mighty Ian Botham is the weak link in your eleven, then you know you've got it sussed.

Graeme Hick was part of England's best one-day team © Getty Images

A fit Kevin Pietersen could change England's fortunes, but it's a big ask © Getty Images

Bob Woolmer

'Inzamam-ul-Haq created probably the defining moment of the game, an innings which proved that experience is something you cannot just buy off the shelf' © AFP

A thesis I have been reading recently reveals a statistic that says Pakistan had a 5% chance of winning a Test match in South Africa, while South Africa has a 56% chance of winning a Test in Pakistan. Statistics do tell a story though they sometimes don't tell the whole story: as luck would have it, Pakistan has now increased the percentage of winning in South Africa.

Include India's win at the Wanderers and there is definitely an effort from the subcontinent to improve their cricket on the harder, bouncier pitches of the Southern Hemisphere. One swallow doesn't make a summer but two means getting there.

Pakistan's terrific team effort was a truly special win, one that rewarded hard work and application, one that included some strong individual efforts and one that had a great team spirit about it, when it was really needed. Such results are built on key moments. Here are mine.

Flipside of the coin

The toss proved a good one to lose. The pitch looked good and both sides would have batted, but there was bounce in it. Some of the dismissals looked poor and some South African batsmen might have thought they were unlucky. Hashim Amla was caught behind down the leg side, AB de Villiers edged a wide bouncer and Graeme Smith was caught at slip off the keeper's gloves. Still, it was difficult to see how people were getting out. Admittedly, Shoaib Akhtar, Mohammad Asif and Mohammad Sami bowled really well and Danish Kaneria had a strong breeze to help his leg-spinners curve and dip as well. Getting them out for only 124 was the key.

The strike back

As expected, South Africa fought back with the ball. Younis Khan and Kamran Akmal were both fighting hard at the end of the first day, but of the 16 wickets that fell, the two most crucial appeared to be that of Younis and Kamran both falling, within minutes, in the day's last two overs. That was 1-1 for the day: I asked Jacques Kallis at the end of the day how he assessed the day and the pitch. He replied simply, "Bob, the game is going forward." Go forward it did.

The Masterpiece: as scripted by Inzamam-ul-Haq

The second day witnessed an absolutely magnificent exhibition of batting with the tail, of farming the strike. With his unbeaten 92, Inzamam-ul-Haq created probably the defining moment of the game, an innings which proved that experience is something you cannot just buy off the shelf. Inzi calculated it beautifully and only with Mohammad Asif did he really begin protecting him. In most of the 20 overs they batted, Asif had to face a maximum of two balls, Inzi not only controlling the strike but also playing some fantastic shots. The lead he got eventually proved vital.

Murphy's Law inverted: A good one from Kamran Akmal was due, especially after some serious lapses behind the wicket © AFP

A long way from Faisalabad

When South Africa batted again they were buoyed by the fact that Shoaib was unfit to bowl. It was a defining moment for South Africa. It was also one for Pakistan for it meant someone had to stand up and be counted in what was a three-man attack. Sure enough, they all responded and Asif was exceptional, along with Kaneria and Sami as all went beyond the call of duty.

On a day of twists, their contributions were vital: South Africa played well, with Kallis and then Mark Boucher and Shaun Pollock taking the game away from Pakistan. But just after each session break, we struck, Asif getting Herschelle Gibbs and Kallis after lunch and then Kaneria dismissing Pollock just after tea. Even then Makhaya Ntini and Andre Nel's bravado meant Pakistan were faced with an interesting total. I saw Pollock at the bar that evening and he reminded me of Faisalabad in 1997-98, when South Africa bowled out Pakistan for 92, chasing only 146. I said there are two differences: one, I was South Africa coach at Faisalabad and two, we're a long way from Faisalabad.

The Endgame

The final moment came when Inzi was undone by a ball that did not bounce and was adjudged leg before off Ntini while chasing the target. Immediately, visions of Faisalabad swirled in my head. But there was a nagging, positive thought at the back of my mind: Kamran Akmal, who had been criticised for a missed stumping (extremely tough) and for two dropped chances might make amends with the bat. He started fortuitously, but the secret of captaincy is always to put the fielders in the gaps. After it, he was fantastic, batting with the Pathan tiger, Younis, who fought like only a tribesman from the north of Pakistan can fight. Ironic that their 99-run partnership ended the game, as it was those two who had been involved at the end of the first day too.

It is of small consolation to the losing side, but it capped a very fine Test match, one that offered the connoisseur everything. It was tense on the last afternoon but in the end the difference was that cameo of pure genius by Inzi. Deservedly, he was presented with both "his best win" and the match award.

Tim de Lisle

Shane Bond: very fast, very good...very alone © Getty Images

As Bob Dylan observed in a song a few years ago, Things Have Changed. For the first time in perhaps 35 years, there is no outstanding attack in world cricket.

Since the turn of the millennium, there had been no doubt about who had the heaviest arsenal: it was Australia. They were the only country with a great fast bowler (Glenn McGrath) and a great slow bowler (Shane Warne). Both were big wicket-takers who also kept the runs down - a pair of captain's dreams. But now they have gone, leaving a thousand-wicket hole.

Brett Lee is pacey and watchable, but erratic and hittable. Stuart Clark has made a phenomenal start - on the list of all-time Test bowling averages, he is in the top ten, ahead of practically every bowler you've ever heard of - but he is a nominee for Best Supporting Actor rather than a leading man. And he has played only one Test, and taken only one wicket, outside the bouncy tracks of home and
South Africa.

Lee and Clark will presumably be joined by Stuart MacGill and AN Other. MacGill is a fine, sparky legspinner, but the only times he has looked in Warne's class have been when Warne was in the same team, which seemed to spur one of them on, while putting the other's nose out of joint.

The fourth man could be an instant hit like Clark: Mitchell Johnson, the regular understudy, has been auditioning well. Equally, it could take him 10 or 15 Tests to settle at the highest level. He will certainly be targeted. Throw in a bit of Andrew Symonds' allsorts and Michael Clarke's amiable slow left-arm, and what have you got? A testing but not daunting attack.

Not that the other countries have much to write to Australia about. South Africa have the strongest seam attack now that Shaun Pollock has found his niggardly old mojo, but they still haven't discovered the existence of spin: even when he desperately needed fourth-innings
wickets yesterday, Graeme Smith barely used Paul Harris.

England had a fine seam attack for two years, but when the feisty fourth seamer, Simon Jones, got injured, and their coach Troy Cooley left, the unit fell apart. Matthew Hoggard and Andrew Flintoff are dependable, Steve Harmison has forgotten how to take wickets overseas, and everybody else is either shunned (Jon Lewis) or growing up in public (Jimmy Anderson, Saj Mahmood, Liam Plunkett).

Mitchell Johnson is Australia's man in waiting, but will he be an instant hit? © Getty Images

India have the best spin attack in Anil Kumble and Harbhajan Singh, but Greg Chappell doesn't like playing them in the same team, which must be a relief to most of his opponents, even if Harbhajan has not been at his best lately. Zaheer Khan, Irfan Pathan and Sreesanth are on their way to being a fine seam attack, but they are merely handy at the moment.

Pakistan have probably the best attack in the world on paper, but in practice ... well, if they were all fit, not banned, and speaking to the captain and the coach, they'd be terrific: Shoaib Akhtar and Mohammad Asif to open, with Mohammad Sami or Umar Gul in support, a bit of Abdul Razzaq or Shahid Afridi ... but then a weakish link in Danish Kaneria. New Zealand have Shane Bond, who is very fast and very good, but nothing else to frighten the horses. Sri Lanka have one genius, one yeoman, and one interesting slinger. West Indies? Well, their one-day
bowling is promising.

They all seem much of a muchness. One way of distinguishing between them is to use the LG ratings. Australia's top four bowlers are Clark at 7, Lee at 12, MacGill at 21 and Jason Gillespie (my dear old thing!) at 22. Total 62. I wondered if any other country could do better. Here
are the results for the main teams, taking their top four bowlers and using the ratings as they stood yesterday.

England 65

Hoggard 6, Flintoff 8, Harmison 18, Panesar 33

Pakistan 58

Shoaib 9, Gul 15=, Kaneria 15=, Asif 19

India 67

Kumble 3, Pathan 14, Harbhajan 24, Sreesanth 26

Sri Lanka 74

Murali 1, Vaas 11, Malinga 30, Fernando 32

South Africa 48

Ntini 2, Pollock 4, Nel 17, Kallis 25

New Zealand 62

Bond 6, Franklin 13, Vettori 20, Martin 23

West Indies 118

Collymore 10, Collins 29, Edwards 39, Taylor 40

And the winner is ... South Africa. (Although they still don't have a spinner.) The ratings are not, of course, gospel. They are too swayed by recent form, as if reacting against career averages, which are not swayed enough by it. But they are not crazy either. And by their reckoning, Australia now have only the third best attack in the world, equal with New Zealand. By the time of their next Test, in November, they will be even lower, because Johnson, or whoever, will start with a much lower rating than the one Gillespie is clinging onto. Test cricket is about to become more interesting.

Half the cricket world - England, South Africa, Pakistan - could watch India take on West Indies on January 21, but more than half in India couldn't © AFP

The Indian cricket fan's anxieties will have lessened following the compromise brokered by the Delhi High Court allowing Doordarshan, the state-owned free-to-air channel, to telecast - with a seven-minute delay - the second one-day international between India and West Indies on Wednesday. That is in addition to the telecast by Neo Sports, the pay channel promoted by Nimbus Communication, which owns the global television rights to Indian cricket.

It was inevitable - the stakes were just too high for it not to happen - but experience suggests that this is merely a temporary reprieve. The bigger question is how and why it was allowed to come to such a pass. The issue was hardly new, nor was this the first time that the courts had been called on to broker a solution. Yet, none of the stake-holders - Doordarshan (DD), Nimbus Communications, the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI) - chose to act in time. Perhaps each was waiting for the other party to blink.

As a game of brinksmanship, it was both disastrous and farcical. Half the cricket world - England, South Africa, Pakistan - could watch India take on West Indies on January 21, but more than half in India couldn't.

The facts of the case are clear: Nimbus Communication refused to provide DD - the sole broadcaster to half of India's 100 million television homes - the live feed for the match unless DD agreed to encrypt its feed. The national Information and Broadcasting Ministry called the decision "unpatriotic" and said it was contemplating a law ensuring that rights holders share the cricket feed with the state-owned channel. No doubt, the move has popular support.

It's a similar situation in England, where the decision by the England and Wales Cricket Board to award exclusive rights for the telecast of home cricket, both international and domestic, to Sky Sports, a pay channel, drew wide criticism from cricket fans used to watching domestic cricket on BBC and home Tests on Channel 4, both free-to-air channels. The deal, worth ₤220 million, made live cricket inaccessible to nearly 70% of television viewers in the UK and the ECB was roundly vilified for compromising the wider interests of the game. Yet, the board was left with little choice because the bid from Channel 4 was far less than the Sky offer, and the ECB's primary stake- holders, the counties, backed the highest bid.

Most of all, though, the Indian government cannot claim to champion a free-market economy while abusing its basic principles by seeking to bully a rights-holder in the name of public interest

The difference in India is that while the ₤35 monthly fee for the Sky package is considered exorbitant by many consumers in England, paying for TV isn't even an option for India's rural millions. To that extent, the government is justified in trying to protect the interests of the public, because cricket, it can be argued, is not strictly a private event even though it is conducted by the BCCI, which is a private body.

But Doordarshan's case with Nimbus isn't strictly about public interest. At the heart of the dispute is the battle for eyeballs that ultimately translates into advertising revenue. Nimbus paid a hefty $612 million for the rights and is entitled to fight to protect its territory. Doordarshan has paid nothing, and has nothing to lose. Every rupee it can earn from televising the matches is a bonus. Yet it has chosen, either through sheer negligence and incompetence or because of arrogance and greed, or quite possibly a mix of all the above, not to comply with a reasonable request to encrypt the live feed to ensure that it isn't freely available for redistribution by cable operators in India and other satellite networks abroad.

Doordarshan's argument is that encryption is beyond its technical means. If that indeed is the case, and it sounds suspiciously like crying wolf, then it is obliged to get its act together. It is not the first instance that Doordarshan has come into conflict with a rights owner. In fact there is a pattern to this - ESPN and Ten Sports have already fought court cases against Doordarshan - and it does raise the question of whether Doordarshan is dragging its feet on encryption because it wants to retain its market share in cable homes as well.

In the past, there also have been disputes over the nature of the feed. During India's tour to Pakistan in 2005-06, Ten Sports, the rights holder, refused to give in to Doordarshan's demand for a clean feed (without advertisements) on the grounds that its financial interests would be compromised. In this case, Nimbus has agreed to a 75:25 share of the advertising revenue in their favour, which is a fair deal considering Doordarshan haven't paid a penny for the rights.

The blackout of the first match was a discredit to all, not the least to the BCCI which, as the custodians of Indian cricket, is morally responsible for ensuring the widest possible coverage for the game. It is impossible to ignore the fact that the BCCI is currently headed by a man who is an influential member of the Indian government.

Most of all, though, the Indian government cannot claim to champion a free-market economy while abusing its basic principles by seeking to bully a rights-holder in the name of public interest. As India's true national sport, cricket must be made accessible to everyone who wants to watch it. And a straightforward solution is available. This is a matter that warrants closure.

Andrew Miller

A whole new ball-game? What a good idea © Getty Images

Anyone who claims that cricket journalism is an easy lark has obviously never had to sit and watch England make perpetual fools of themselves in the one-day arena. It really is the most soul-destroying of occupations. Day after day after day, the same old rubbish is served up for our delectation, with lashings and lashings of the same old failings and a side-order of the same old excuses, and we poor mugs try to turn this into the purplest of prose, trying to kid ourselves that we, they, you ... anyone ... actually gives a stuff.

As Andrew Flintoff might put it: "We're trying, we really are." So, deep breath, here we go for the umpteenth time this month.

"Today's pitiful batting performance at Adelaide was the most disgraceful showing by an England one-day team since ..."

Since, well, whenever. Whatever. Who cares? Not the England team, that's for sure, and therein lies the problem. Perhaps it's just the latest Machiavellian trick to emerge from those conniving spin-merchants at the ECB, but suddenly the team's 5-0 Ashes drubbing - their first whitewash against Australia for 86 years - seems like the high point of a miserable winter's campaign. It really has been that desperate.

Somehow, there is always a stigma attached to English defeats against New Zealand. England's farcical Ashes campaign in 1990-91, for instance, became even more embarrassing when they failed to overcome the Kiwis in both the Benson & Hedges World Series, and the subsequent three-match one-day tour.

And if that's the case, then today, the team took a significant stride towards completing their most ignominious tour of all time. But England better get used to the feeling. On March 16, in less than two months' time, their World Cup campaign gets underway against the same opponents in St Lucia, and on this evidence, they'll be lucky to put even Kenya, the former semi-finalists, and the John-Davison-powered Canada in their place.

In the meantime, the CB Series is providing quite enough spleen-venting among the press corps. One-day cricket brings everyone all out in a rash of adjectives. A quick scour of the wires reveals that, on other pages, England's latest performance has been described as "woeful", "desperate", "shambolic", "pathetic" and "flaky", as they were "hammered", "blitzed", "trounced" and "destroyed" by the "rampant", "buoyant" and "determined" Kiwis.

And to that, England might be expected to respond: "Bovvered?" Their attitude to one-day cricket is as fickle as the entourage of WAGs and infants that has been trailing around in the team's wake all winter, although - tellingly - there has been no-one in the set-up willing to have a good old-fashioned tantrum. A combination of Duncan Fletcher's impassivity and Andrew Flintoff's banality has seen to that. "The lads are trying their damnedest to win games," was Freddie's latest variation on the same soundbite, another infuriatingly deadpan response to a flatlining tour.

And when the cameras panned in on the dressing-room, Fletcher's hangdoggy-in-the-window expression was, to the average long-suffering England fan, every bit as slappable as Ricky Ponting had found it to be at Trent Bridge in 2005. Quite how the shunned Chris Read, sitting in fulminating silence beside him, resisted the temptation, no-one will ever know.

Last year, Fletcher infamously claimed that he knew "ten of the eleven players" whom he would like to have playing at St Lucia on March 16 for the opening match of the World Cup. For all we know, he still moans "Jonesy" and "Tresco" in his sleep to this day. But it's time to wake up and smell the coffee, Duncan. Those boys are gone, and they ain't coming back.

It's quite an irony, given the disparaging comments that Fletcher has long been making about county cricket, that three of the key figures as England claw their way to the start of another World Cup campaign, are Jon Lewis, Paul Nixon and Mal Loye - thirtysomethings one and all, and men who owe their very livelihoods to that maligned county treadmill. It's certainly not how England would have planned their winter. But seeing as they didn't actually bother to plan it in the first place, it seems about fair.

But enough pontificating about the same old spiel. It really is too depressing. Perhaps, in the spirit of this bloated, corporatised era of the game, it's time to automate our reports on these abominable contests. In fact, why wait for the technology to catch up? There is already in existence a handy 'bullshit generator' that, with a couple of quick tweaks, could easily churn out 700 words for next Friday's 252-run defeat against the Aussies.

I've been playing with it for the last five minutes and the machine has already identified three of Team England's key requirements, which is three more than any of Flintoff and Fletcher's press conferences have so far managed. Three quick clicks reveal that they need to "engineer robust partnerships", "target seamless channels" and "unleash next-generation models". Over to you Mr Ken Schofield and the ECB Review Committee. Let's see if you can better that bull, on and off the pitch.

Ian Chappell

'The fact that Gibbs has admitted to his wrong doing but is still appealing, suggests he is unaware of the enormity of the issue' © Getty Images

And another one bites the dust. Try telling Herschelle Gibbs that; "Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me."

Gibbs has been suspended for two Tests (now under appeal) for calling spectators at Centurion Park a few choice names. The fact that Gibbs's comments were captured by the stump microphones has caused much rancour and opinion is divided upon whether the penalty meted out to Gibbs is fair. In the end the short answer is probably the one I gave a television director who was apologising for allowing a few "unmentionables" I'd uttered, to go to air; "If I hadn't said them," I explained, "the words wouldn't have gone to air."

As a general rule if you don't use certain terms in your everyday language then they won't slip out in moments of anger.

Gibbs's suspension has brought into sharp focus an ugly trend that has been shadowing the game now for a few years; players being excessively abused by spectators. I'm not referring to the usual "can't bat", "can't bowl" or "'ave a go you mug" type comments that have been around for ages but strident personal abuse.

The administrators have been their usual selves; jumping up and down and wringing their hands about the offensive nature of these taunts and threatening to have offending spectators fined and ejected from the stadium. Meanwhile, have they done enough to ensure their own house is in order?

No.

For a number of years the amount of chatter on the field has escalated from the odd, "I'll knock your adjectival block off," the occasional, "Well bowled, now give him another one," and a rare bit of clever gamesmanship, to an incessant stream of inane comments prior to and following each ball. Watching the recent triangular tournament out of Malaysia I was struck by the excessive amount of on-field comment heard through the microphones and not just from those players standing near the stumps.

It drove me mad sitting in the lounge room 4000 kilometres away from the game but no player or umpire did anything to put a stop to this rubbish. If I'd been in the batting side I would have started talking to the bowler from the non-striker's end, while he was running up to bowl. It wouldn't have been appreciated and would have drawn a rebuke from the umpire but it would have got the message across that talking rubbish isn't the sole domain of the fielding side.

Watching the recent triangular tournament out of Malaysia I was struck by the excessive amount of on-field comment heard through the microphones and not just from those players standing near the stumps. It drove me mad sitting in the lounge room 4000 kilometres away from the game but no player or umpire did anything to put a stop to this rubbish.

A batsman is entitled to some peace and quiet out in the middle. If a batsman is subjected to a barrage of comments the contest is heavily weighted in favour of the bowler as he has more team-mates supporting him and the willow wielder generally only has one chance to succeed, while the leather-flinger has many.

Then there is the more important matter of incessant chat leading to something personal being said at the wrong time and an ugly incident erupting on the field.

In addition, it could be that fans are seeing and hearing what is going on and have decided they can be "part" of the contest out in the middle by wading into the opposition from the other side of the fence.

The players have also started doing a lap of honour after a game to thank the fans for their support. This may have seemed like a good idea at the time some marketing guru proposed it but I recall thinking when I first saw it happen at soccer matches many years ago, "It's not smart to thank fans excessively, because they'll start thinking they actually have an influence on the result of a game."

There was nothing wrong with playing good cricket and occasionally doffing your cap as a way of thanking fans for their applause and it wouldn't be a bad time to return to that principle.

The fact that Gibbs has admitted to his wrong doing but is still appealing, suggests he is unaware of the enormity of the issue.

Cricket can't bring an end to abusive behaviour; it is a public problem that can only be addressed by improved education and everybody resolving to do better. However, cricket can do more to ensure its own house is in order, because as we've just seen in the "Gibbs affair" words can be offensive and they do hurt.

A handcuffed Mark Vermeulen arrives at court in Harare with his solicitor © Getty Images

Telford Vice

Are you my bag?" Mark Vermeulen didn't seem to be trying to humour himself or those around him amid the humdrum of another day, another airport. In fact, he sounded entirely serious "You aren't my bag!"

Yup, he was talking earnestly to the luggage as it trundled past him on the carousel. "Why aren't you my bag?" Odd. Just like his behaviour in an interview after he had scored a Test century against the West Indies. As keen as Vermeulen was to discuss his innings, he was prevented from doing so by his own over-riding obsession with the reporter's recording equipment. "What's that button for? What happens if you push it twice? Where do the batteries go?"

Sadly, that fine 118 in Bulawayo three years ago could prove to be Vermeulen's only Test hundred in the wake of his trial for arson after the Zimbabwe academy premises in Harare was destroyed in a fire that raged late on Halloween night.

"He's always been a little ... what's the word, different," says Alistair Campbell, who captained Zimbabwe when Vermeulen made his Test debut in 2002. "He's never reacted that well to authority or to adversity, and some of his actions in those situations have not been those of normal people. Everyone is allowed their idiosyncrasies and professional sport is full of oddballs. But they don't go around burning down buildings." That's the difference between being considered a harmless madman - someone like Merv Hughes - and being confirmed as a total loony.

Vermeulen, it seems, has long been a grenade without a pin. His past is littered with incidents of poor discipline and irrational conduct and while action was taken in several instances, it seems he never managed to curb his wilder ways.

But Campbell also remembers, between the rough spots, a talented, easygoing youngster who did show others the necessary respect. "In his calmer moments he was like a kid with ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder) who took his medicine," Campbell recalls. "When he had proper guidance - when the Flowers and other experienced players were in the team - then he did take direction. But I think when everyone left he fell apart. Perhaps his ambition was to play with those guys.

"Even now when I see him, he comes up to me and says, 'Let's make a comeback, lets go to the World Cup'.

Maybe the turnaround of things, when he realised he couldn't play with the best anymore, wasn't good for him. He didn't mind taking direction from people who knew what they were talking about. He always had a mad streak in him, but it was never as pronounced as it was after the old guard left."

Vermeulen made his Test debut in a team that, besides Campbell, included Grant Flower, Andy Flower, Tatenda Taibu, Andy Blignaut, Ray Price and Henry Olonga. For much of his international career of eight Tests and 32 one-day internationals, he was captained by Heath Streak.

These days Zimbabwe can only dream of fielding a side studded with cricketers of that level of skill and experience. Player strikes and rebellions, contractual disagreements, and the sheer daily strife that comes with living in one of the most economically, politically and socially dysfunctional societies in the world have ripped the heart out the game.

Did Zimbabwe's systems fail Vermeulen?

"Vermeulen is not the first player like this," Campbell says. "The difference with most of the others is that they were in a system where, if you behaved like that, you just didn't play cricket. You were ostracised. Here, guys like that tended to get away with a lot more. If there had been a system in place with counselling, and if things like this had been taken seriously, it might have been different." But in Zimbabwe, with its tiny player base and generally impoverished cricket structures, there was no safety net for Vermeulen.

Vermeulen is 27 years old, which in better circumstances would mean he should have another 10 years of playing cricket at a decent level to look forward to before having to consider other ways to earn his keep. That his career is probably over is due in large part to the events of September 10 in a Central Lancashire League match between Werneth and Ashton. Vermeulen, a professional for Werneth, reacted to a spectator's verbal suggestion that his bowling might improve if he removed his sunglasses by throwing a ball in the crowd's direction. Then he grabbed a boundary marker, which had a steel spike attached to it ...

Before Vermeulen could add to his woes he was frogmarched off the ground - effing and blinding all the way - and out of English cricket. That much was confirmed when he was banned for 10 years from all matches played under the auspices of the England and Wales Cricket Board. The ban was subsequently cut to three years, of which the last two were suspended.

But how many clubs would be able to see past such a significant blot and hire him to play for them? "We are pleased that the board have clearly recognised the substantial mitigation put forward on Mark's behalf," Vermeulen's legal representative, Andrew Fitch-Holland, said at the hearing at which the sentence was reduced. "However, we are disappointed that Mark remains subject to an effective 12-month ban. Mark is totally focused on fighting for a place in Zimbabwe's World Cup squad and is obviously concerned as to how this outcome will be viewed."

After Irfan Pathan's bouncer smashed into his skull, Vermeulen came out of surgery with steel plates in his head. Another such injury would have serious consequences to his well-being © Getty Images

It was under this heavy cloud that Vermeulen returned to Zimbabwe determined to resurrect his career. "When he came back and said to Zimbabwe Cricket (ZC), 'I want a contract and I want to play for Zimbabwe again', they quite rightly told him he had this thing hanging over his head in England, which was not ideal, and to go play league cricket and prove himself," Campbell explains. "But to fob off someone who's already unstable was just asking for trouble. There was absolutely no support base for a guy like him, there was no system to fall into. That was a recipe for a bomb going off, which is basically what happened.

"You'd think he might try and knock out the chief executive or something. But to do what he did - if, of course, he's guilty - you've got to realise there's a serious problem. Put yourself in his position: 'If I come back at least I can play cricket again. But now I can't do that. In fact, I've got nothing. Now what do I do?' It's a scary scenario."

Even players who did not face Vermeulen's personal challenges were shaken by their first cold blasts of reality, Campbell says. "Playing professional cricket is a pampered lifestyle. You're not really aware of the outside world, and when you're dropped into it it's a bit of a story. Teams these days have fitness coaches and dieticians and all sorts of things, but not enough of an effort is made to assess players' mental strength and aptitude to play at international level - what it takes out of you and what it creates inside you.

"Playing for Zimbabwe was never about making money, it was all about fun on the road and having a good time. Suddenly that's taken away from you, and you're not staying in nice hotels and you have to pay a few bills."

Presumably, Vermeulen had similar topics on his mind early in October when he apparently walked up to Robert Mugabe's front gate and demanded to see "the patron" to "talk about cricket". Zimbabwe president Mugabe is indeed the patron of cricket in the country. The walls surrounding his residence in Harare bristle with razor wire and men armed with bayonets, AK47s and notoriously short tempers. This time they didn't shoot, and Vermeulen was simply arrested. Upon his release, he went back at the gate and restated his demand. Somehow, he survived again.

In the days before the fire, the Zimbabwe squad played practice matches at the academy ground in preparation for their tour to Bangladesh. "He tried to stop one of the matches at the academy; he was throwing boundary boards and bricks onto the field," says Zimbabwe coach Kevin Curran.

A source claimed Vermeulen "went into the gym at the academy and poured whisky all over himself, and told people about what he was going to do". A fire was extinguished before it took hold in the ZC boardroom on October 30. The next night the academy building, a handsome two-storey thatched structure, was razed. Vermeulen was seen leaving the scene even as the flames leapt into the darkness.

The remains of the Academy. Vermeulen was seen leaving the premises as the fire engulfed the building © Cricinfo

He was arrested and charged with two counts of arson, and he appeared in court in Harare on November 3. He was granted bail of US$2000, but his passport was confiscated. Vermeulen's lawyer, David Dhumbura, said his client had been compelled to "make indications to the police without the presence of his defence team" - legalese for claiming a confession had been wrung out of him. The trial was set for December 6, but it was adjourned until February 7 because the police had not yet furnished the defence with a copy of video evidence in which Vermeulen had, again according to Dhumbura, "made indications" to the police.

Dhumbura might also consider the rest of the evidence in Vermeulen's dossier. While batting for Prince Edward School in 1996, Vermeulen was given out lbw. He was adamant that he had edged the ball onto his pad, and he made plain his displeasure by ripping the stumps out of the ground and locking himself in the dressing-room. There would seem to be more to this incident, because he was suspended from school, axed from the Mashonaland Schools team, and barred from playing for Old Hararians, which had an arrangement with Prince Edward to include boys from the school in its club sides. It took the intervention of Bill Flower, the immensely respected father of Andy and Grant, to earn Vermeulen a return to cricket the next year.
In June 2003, Vermeulen was sent home from Zimbabwe's tour to England after he defied an ostensibly reasonable instruction that he travel on the team bus from Chester-le-Street to the squad's Durham hotel. "Mark has been warned about his conduct on a number of separate occasions during the tour but unfortunately has not heeded that advice," manager Babu Meman said at the time.

Vermeulen's bad mood might have been prompted by the fact that he had become just the 13th player in Test cricket to record a pair on the same day. But he couldn't have been too bleak earlier in the tour at Hove, when he scored 198 against Sussex and then refused to field a ball because "it's too cold".

Four months earlier during the World Cup Vermeulen's skull was fractured by a delivery from team-mate Travis Friend in the nets in Bloemfontein. Just 11 months after that calamity, Irfan Pathan smashed Vermeulen's skull again in a one-dayer in Brisbane. This time he emerged from three-and-a-half hours under anaesthetic with steel plates holding his head together. Another such injury, the doctors warned, could have serious consequences for Vermeulen's future well-being.

Vermeulen is not the only Zimbabwean cricketer who lives a troubled life. Another Test player, well respected and admired, has fallen victim to self-mutilation and slashes his arms with a razor blade. Still another player, who is easily counted among Zimbabwe's greatest, punishes himself for a poor stroke by refusing fluids and running long distances.

Sometimes cricket is not at all a funny old game ...

This round to the leggie: Warne gets Pietersen bowled around the legs on day five of the 2006 Adelaide Ashes Test © Getty Images

Gideon Haigh

A game consisting of clearly delineated individual contests, cricket seems to contain huge potential for the creation and maintenance of personal rivalries. Most of them, however, are low-key and intimate, lost in the corporate struggle. Who remembers who dismissed or punished whom last time, or the time before? Only, generally, the opponents themselves; even then, the game's structure tends to the complex, and competition to the diffuse.

Yet when Shane Warne bowls to Kevin Pietersen, their rivalry is unmistakeable. On occasion, as at Lord's on Pietersen's debut, or as most recently at the Adelaide Oval, it is almost as if the match has been suspended around them while they work through their differences - and their similarities. For these are, if not quite peas in a pod, men cut from similar designer cloth, with their partying instincts, playboy lifestyles, and look-at-me attitudes. Plus, of course, they've played more cricket together than apart: it was Warne as captain of Hampshire who lured Pietersen from Nottinghamshire, who talked up Pietersen's potential to play Test cricket, and who deals with a mingled sense of vindication and frustration at Pietersen's successes.

This is a model for Warne's cricket friendships, which have tended to be with players and individuals like him, from Ian Botham to Brian Lara, because these tend to validate his own personality. In his introduction to Pietersen's new autobiography, Crossing The Boundary (2006), Warne describes his mate as "a kind and generous guy who just wants to be liked and play cricket": he would almost certainly settle for a similar description of himself.

Pietersen reciprocates with testimonials still more lavish, and heartfelt - and the friendship suits him too. He needs to feel appreciated; his relations with South Africa and Nottinghamshire soured when he did not feel so. Warne's endorsements when he arrived at the Rose Bowl were a tonic to his system. Warne's presence as a bowler when he made his Test debut, he has explained, made all the difference: "It helped that we were mates. It relaxed me out there and helped me to be positive against him... I really enjoyed facing him." Pietersen made 57, including a huge six off Warne into the second tier of the Grand Stand at Lord's, and 64 not out; Warne claimed six crucial wickets in a winning cause, including Pietersen caught in the deep. Honour was satisfied: in individual terms their matches could hardly have been better balanced. In the spirit of two other great cricket friends-cum-rivals, Keith Miller and Denis Compton, they spent the night of the climactic day out on the town.

Rivalries, however, cannot always be so satisfying to both protagonists. Methinks that sometimes Warne and Pietersen protest their mutual admiration too much. Their first meetings on the county circuit were actually inauspicious. When Hampshire hosted Notts in June 2004, going down to a two-day defeat, Pietersen impressed Warne with his poise and footwork in an innings of 49 from 88 deliveries. In his introduction to Crossing the Boundary, Warne takes up the story of when they met again, seven weeks later at Trent Bridge: "When he came out to bat I stood at the top of my mark and gave him some serious verbals. I wanted to see how he would react. And it was just how I thought he would. When I was coming in to bowl, KP pulled away, and, well, it really started then. I gave it to him again verbally and then, second ball, he was out, caught at bat pad. Nothing needed to be said." Nothing is, for Pietersen does not give his own version of the encounter - an intriguing omission.

'Savour this moment'. There might not be many more ahead © Getty Images

Warne wasn't about to give Pietersen any gimmes in Test cricket either. He bowled for much of the 2005 Ashes series with a fielder at deep midwicket: Pietersen's long reach and loose wrists enable him to slog-sweep deliveries that others would push to cover. Warne teased him: "Why aren't you taking me on?" Pietersen protested: "Bring your cow corner up and I will hit you." Warne did it cleverly at The Oval, posting the cow corner at three-quarters of the way to the boundary to tempt the shot, but only if Pietersen could be sure of hitting it cleanly. Pietersen shaped to play and aborted three or four times, finally changing his mind too late and being bowled. Warne might then have cut Pietersen's Test career short in the second innings, having him missed, at slip, and famously missing him personally, also at slip, before his mighty 158 was underway.

Even then, Warne gave little away deliberately. He is a generous opponent - but not at his own expense. There was admiration but no concession in his response to the innings. When Jack Dempsey went down to Gene Tunney in the epic "Long Count" fight 80 years ago, he immortally conceded: "You were best. You fought a smart fight, kid." Warne crossed to Pietersen as the batsman walked off, and advised: "Savour the moment." Good advice, but not without a tincture of "enjoy it while it lasts". Warne's opinion of Pietersen in My Illustrated Career (2006) is likewise seasoned: "He has a good temperament and whatever happens against us, I think he has a great future, as long as he doesn't get carried away with off-field stuff, and keeps his feet on the ground." Again, not without a hint of "do as I say, not as I do."

In the current series, Warne has been more minatory still, going perilously close to losing his cool, especially in his importunings of umpires. It evinces both how much he cares about the series, and also how he fancies it will be won - by the same kind of relentless aggression as Australia were submitted to in 2005. An incident at the Gabba suggested that this was causing tensions between these best of friendly enemies. A waspish throw from Warne to Adam Gilchrist passed too close for Pietersen's comfort; he curtly bunted it away, and responded with a couple of words, the second of which was "off".

At Adelaide their rivalry took a new turn, Warne seeking to smother Pietersen in the first innings by coming round the wicket and pitching endlessly into the footmarks from the second day; the batsman stepping out with pads like a man scotching a spider. It was not great bowling, but it was the work of a great bowler: only a bowler completely secure in his game and name would have dared lay down such a creeping barrage. Pietersen had magnificently the better of this contest, compiling another 158, but Warne conclusively the better of its sequel on the last day, when he reverted to over the wicket and bowled Pietersen behind his legs with his first ball. It was, in truth, a nondescript ball, and not even Warne could spin it into an anecdote. Asked at the press conference afterwards whether it had been part of a plan, he wracked his brain before giving up: "Uuuuuuummmmm... no."

On reflection, though, Warne may be being too modest. Their interactions over the last two and a half years now shade all their contests, each man trying to assert himself - Warne to fortify his reputation, Pietersen to build his. Each, therefore, is a little ahead of himself, letting the analytical give way to the emotional. Pietersen in his book, for instance, had already discounted the possibility of Warne ever bowling him round his legs: "I know he has got people out like this, but not me, I'm sure of it." Oops.

It will be interesting to note how Pietersen carries on in Test cricket in the absence of Warne © Getty Images

This is dangerous territory for both men. In his autobiography Serious (2002), John McEnroe describes how his rivalry with Bjorn Borg turned on those moments when one or the other lost focus. When he won that immortal 34-point point fourth-set tiebreaker in the 1980 Wimbledon final, McEnroe thought he was about to break Borg's incredible four-year hold on the tournament. Borg fought back with such unexampled ferocity that McEnroe became upset: "Come on, isn't enough enough?" The momentary distraction was enough to finish him.

Later that year, however, they met again at Forest Hills, where Borg was the pursuer, seeking his first US Open title. This time Borg seemed to be storming home, taking the match into a fifth set, a vantage from which he was almost unbeatable. But sensing that his opponent was thinking about the title already rather than the match, McEnroe rallied and won. "When we shook hands," recalls McEnroe, "I could see that he was devastated." When McEnroe beat Borg again at Wimbledon the following year, he fancied him "oddly relieved".

McEnroe then illuminates the other problem area of a great rivalry: that moment when the roles shift. The best years of his career, McEnroe considers, were those when he was in Borg's shadow. He enjoyed the tennis, the tour, the pursuit of his potential, the thrill of the chase: "I loved being the lone gunfighter, working my way up the ranks, but still not being the guy." But when his great rival quit, the top on his own was a lonely place: "Borg's leaving tennis was... a huge blow to the sport and for me personally... I had a very tough time motivating myself and getting back on track."

Warne v Pietersen is a relationship conceived on the lines of sorcerer and apprentice. How will they deal with capabilities closer to parity? How will Pietersen find life on his own? Watch this space - even if it is two feet outside leg stump.

Gideon Haigh is a cricket historian and writer based in Melbourne

80 Tests in charge and still going strong © Getty Images

Tim de Lisle

Being an international captain is a less perilous business than it used to be. Most of the current incumbents of the major nations have been there a while. Stephen Fleming is the daddy of them all, with 80 Tests in charge dating right back to February 1997: rare is the captain who gets to decide whether to have a 10th-anniversary party. Brian Lara gets sacked or resigns every so often, but never for long: he is now in his third stint, spread over nine years.

Ricky Ponting is wearing the crown easily again after holding it for three years in Tests and five in one-day internationals (though he should perhaps think about retiring from Twenty20: if you don't like the format, why play it?). Graeme Smith, still only 25, has already been South African captain for four years. After struggling at first, then slowly improving, he may yet break all records. Inzamam-ul-Haq has managed to bring some continuity to the Pakistan captaincy, the closest thing in cricket to the Italian prime ministership.

Rahul Dravid, who found captaincy comfortable at first, has hit a rocky patch two years in, but will surely be given another chance. Sri Lanka went through a spell of not knowing who to have as captain, but now Mahela Jayawardene, who took over a year ago, has made the job his own
with three good series results in a row. Which leaves England.

When England changed their captain at the weekend, it was the seventh time they had done so in just over a year. Michael Vaughan handed over to Marcus Trescothick, who handed back to Vaughan, who handed back to Trescothick, who handed over to Andrew Flintoff, who handed over to Andrew Strauss, who handed back to Flintoff, who has now handed over to Vaughan. At first the changes were enforced, by injury or illness, but the last two have been the selectors' choice.

So far only one has resulted in a series win - when the buck passed to Strauss, who pulled off a good, if Hair-assisted, win over Pakistan. By definition, England have been without key players, and not just captains: Simon Jones may have been missed as much as any of the above.
But the record is still a ropey one, which, since that dismal day in Adelaide, is now verging on the catastrophic.

The selectors' response has been highly unusual. In bringing Vaughan back at this stage, they have in effect picked a specialist captain. Vaughan is a fine, at times scintillating Test batsman, or was, but there is no way that he has proved his fitness yet after a year out with serious knee trouble. He has played three or four gentle warm-ups with a highest score of 27. The only time he made runs in the past year, with a score of 99 for Yorkshire, he ached so much that he realised he needed further surgery. The only time he played for England, his captain (Strauss, standing in for Flintoff in Perth last month; do try to keep up) didn't think it was worth giving him a bat. It's great to see him back in the frame, but there is no doubt about what he has been picked for: his captaincy.

This is something selectors around the world hardly ever do any more. Only two cases in point come to mind from the last decade, both of them batting captains who were allowed to carry on while severely out of form. One was Australia's Mark Taylor, who went through a nightmare run
of 11 Tests without a fifty in 1996 and 1997. It cost him the one-day captaincy, but he clung on in Tests and made a career-saving hundred at Edgbaston, just in the nick of time. Something similar happened to England's Nasser Hussain in 2000-01. Both men were excellent captains:
if they hadn't been, they would have been dropped.

Over to you, Tres. Back to you, Michael © Getty Images

On those occasions, the selectors concerned were letting a reigning captain be. This time, David Graveney and co. have brought one back after a year out, which is more of a stretch. Graveney has been consistent in saying that Vaughan is the England captain, and he is now
cashing in on that investment. It allows him to replace Flintoff without sacking him. England seem anxious not to offend F