Monty Panesar celebrates victory in the 2006 Beard of the Year awards © Getty Images

Since his eight-wicket heroics at the WACA, Monty Panesar has not enjoyed the best of weeks. He went wicketless in Australia’s first innings at Melbourne, after being denied the forest of close catchers that he’d been afforded in Perth, and he had a stone-dead lbw appeal turned down when Andrew Symonds had made just 52 of his 156 runs. But today, at last, he’s got some news to cheer him up.

He’s just been named the 2006 Beard of the Year by those notable facial-fungus connoisseurs, the Beard Liberation Front. The organisation, dedicated to “the removal of a societal prejudice against the facially folically enhanced or bearded” sprung to prominence in the late 1990s, when its founder, Keith Flett, took exception to the tendency for New Labour politicians to shave off their whiskers to attract more voters.

In that regard, Panesar is clearly a worthy winner. He just missed out on the title of BBC Sports Personality of the Year, but he was still the highest-placed bearded contender in the competition - slotting into third place behind Zara Phillips and Darren Clarke. To judge by the proliferation of false beards in the stands last summer, he has done his utmost to make facial hair trendy again.

“Of course Monty has his beard for rather different reasons than say a footballer or actor with a designer beard,” admitted Flett, “but whatever the reason people have beards, we focus on the magnificence of the hirsuteness.”

Panesar had to earn his title the hard way as well, heading off a strong challenge from one of the most hirsute heroes of the 20th century, Cuba’s ailing leader Fidel Castro, not to mention a late surge from those champions of left-wing beardy-weirdiness, the Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, and the trade union leader Paul Mackney.

Cricket has been well represented in the Beard of the Year awards. Last year’s winner, rather lost beneath the mountain of accolades that came his way, was none other than Andrew Flintoff, whose light-blond fuzz was, in Flett’s opinion, a key reason behind his stunning success. Pakistan’s captain, Inzamam-ul-Haq, was also named in the shortlist, alongside the bearded wonder himself, Bill Frindall.

Strangely, though, there was no mention of the most prominent and successful beard-wearer of them all. Ever since Mohammad Yousuf let his chin revert to the state ordained by nature, he has been on a thrilling run of form that enabled him to break Viv Richards’ 30-year record for most runs in a calendar year - his final tally was 1788 runs from 11 Tests.

1.16pm

“Have you spoken to John Howard, and do you know if he’s retiring,” asks a reporter, as Warne exits stage left to laughter and a round of applause. That’s it. The man has said his piece. At the age of 37, with 699 Test wickets from 143 matches, with the prospect of two more games to come, Shane Warne has announced his retirement from international cricket, Australian domestic cricket and club cricket for his local St Kilda team. He will, however, continue to honour his contract with Hampshire for the next two years. Catch him there while you can, because you’ll not see his like again in a hurry.

1.14pm

“We expect England to come out and play with pride,” says Warne, but he believes the coming weeks will be celebrational rather than emotional.

1.12pm

Warne says he discussed his retirement with, among others, Ian Chappell and his ex-wife, Simone, “who’s been there for the journey.” He wants to be remembered as “an entertainer, who enjoyed himself along the way.”

1.10pm

“Let’s hope they can contain the bushfires for a week, and let the rains to come along next week,” he jokes, when asked about the prospect of a 700th wicket on home turf at the MCG.

1.08pm

“There was a little bit of shock when I told Ricky I was going to retire,” says Warne. “He is a good friend and my captain. It makes me feel good that I’ve had such an impact. Sometimes you don’t realise the impact you have.” He recalls the example of Dan Cullen, who used to chase the team bus to get Warne’s autograph, and is now a team-mate.

1.06pm

The Ball of the Century? “It definitely makes me smile. As I’ve said a thousand times, it was just a fluke. I’m just thankful Gatt missed it.”

1.04pm

“Sachin Tendulkar and Brian Lara have been the best two batsmen of my era,” he adds. “Lara places the ball unbelievably well, while I admire Sachin for what he has to go through every day. 50 million people wanting you to succeed. One of the hardest things about being a successful player is the weight of expectation. Domestically, Darren Lehmann has been the hardest player I’ve had to bowl to.”

1.02pm

“If England had retained the Ashes in this series, would you have pushed on to 2009?” asks Dean Wilson of the Daily Mirror. “Yup.”

1.00pm

“Richie is the man, he knows everything about everything,” says Warne, when asked about the influences in his career. “I wished I’d played under Ian Chappell,” he adds, before reminiscing about their time living together in Augusta, when they were both covering the US Masters … in Warne’s brief Channel Nine gig as a “roving reporter”. “And I wouldn’t be where I am without Terry Jenner,” he adds.

12.57pm

“I don’t know what Steve Waugh’s on,” he retorts, when asked about Waugh’s opinion that Warne might one day line up as a coach of England.

12.56pm

Any chance of a comeback? "No." Lows? Losing the World Cup final in 1996, and then losing the one-run Test against West Indies in 1992-93, before being hammered by Curtly Ambrose's 7 for 1 at Perth. The only home series defeat of his career. Any regrets about missing out on the captaincy? "I've been very lucky," he says, not quite answering the question.

12.54pm

Warne recalls his haul of 7 for 52 here at Melbourne in 1992-93 against West Indies as the moment he realised he was good enough to belong to the team full-time.

12.52pm

“Do you want your life to be less like a soap opera,” asks Stephen Brenkley of The Independent. “You guys will be the judge of that,” he replies, before adding that he hopes there’s a bit less moralising about his life in future.

12.50pm

“At times I pushed the line, particularly with my appealing, but I think I made cricket more enjoyable,” says Warne, before confirming that he will honour the final two years of his Hampshire contract. “Who knows what the future holds? I want to spend more time with my children, that’s for sure. But my focus is these next two Test matches. I’ll have a few drinks and a few smokes afterwards, and take it from there.”

12.48pm

Warne reiterates that his favourite Test win was the recent victory at Adelaide. Before that, you have to rewind to the tour of Sri Lanka in August 1992, the first occasion on which he won a match for Australia with 3 for 11. Thirteen years between highs. No wonder he’s satisfied with his timing.

12.46pm

“I’ve given as much as I could to cricket. I’ve never walked away when I’m tired or knackered. But the job’s not done yet. We want to win 5-0,” says Warne.

12.44pm

Warne reveals he would have retired after the 2005 Ashes, had Australia managed to retain them. “But this is my time, and getting the Ashes back was my mission, and I couldn’t have worked the script any better. When it’s your time you just know.”

12.42pm

“I sit here today with every single trophy in the Cricket Australia cabinet," says Warne. "I retire a very happy man. My life has been unbelievable. I’m going out on top, and in my terms. It’s a day of celebration."

12.40pm

Warne has announced his retirement from international, domestic and St Kilda cricket. But he hasn't mentioned Hampshire just yet. He still has two years to run on that contract ...

12.38pm

Philip Pope, the Cricket Australia media man, is on the stage, doing a bit of pre-presser "housekeeping". The great man is waiting in the wings.

12.37pm

A flash of cameras and a hush descends, but it's only James Sutherland and the Cricket Australia crew. The tension is killing us.

12.35pm

No official word just yet, but the reminiscing has begun already. This morning, on Australia's Today show, Mark Taylor was asked by a random TV presenter how the Aussies would cope with the loss of one of the game's "great sledgers". "Awww... mate, he's not that good," quipped Taylor. "He tends to just start with a four-letter word and then says a load of nonsense."

12.30pm

Channel Nine has already gone live, apparently, but there's nothing to see just yet, save the back of a lot of gossiping heads. As the clock ticks over to zero-hour ...

12.15pm

Expectant chatter turns to an expectant hush, but then reverts to another expectant chatter. What are the bets on the man being fashionably late?

12.00pm

A monstrous media presence now. At least 14 TV cameras, twice as many photographers, and four times that number of journalists. Most of the photographers are camped at the entrance to the big black curtain, from behind which Warne is expected to sweep in the next half-an-hour. About the only people oblivious to the goings-on are the ground staff out in the middle of the amphitheatre. With five days to go until the Boxing Day Test, however, they'll have arguably the biggest part to play in the whole send-off.

11.15am

Enter through Gate 2 and, as instructed by the media advisory, head straight up the escalator to the Members' Dining Room. No-one else around but a few early-bird cameramen, a handful of Cricket Australia officials in jacket and ties, and the ghosts of several dozens of legends of the game, looming down on the scene from their portraits on the walls. It is here that I catch my first glimpse of the great ground. Even when empty it is an extraordinary arena, with tier upon tier towering up to the skies. There could be no better venue for such a showman as Warne to face his final curtain. If, of course, that is what he intends to do.

11.00am

Arrive at "The G", just as a large bronze statue is being offloaded from a trailer on the concourse. The grand, sweeping action (coupled with rumours I heard while at the WACA) lead me to believe it is Dennis Lillee, although the men ripping the off the bubble-wrap insist that, come the morning, it will look somewhat different. "We're going to saw its head off overnight," jokes one of them, "and stick Shane Warne's on instead."

10.45am

Well, something's definitely happening. As I set off on the hour-and-a-half journey from Mount Martha, on the Mornington Peninsula, to Melbourne, an email arrives from Cricket Australia, confirming that Shane Warne will indeed be present at the MCG "to share his thoughts with the media". Well, that's nice and ambiguous. Something rather dramatic must be afoot after all.

	Brett Lee parties with 'Slim Jim and the Fats' © Andrew Miller

Remember 2005? Remember England's Ashes rampage through every bar in the West End? "Freddied!" read the headlines in the morning papers, as Andrew Flintoff presented the acceptable side of binge-drinking during an all-night bender that finished with that open-top bus parade through Trafalgar Square.

Fifteen months on from that epic day's night, and it was Australia's turn for a bit of post-triumph release. It's fair to say that things were just a little bit more restrained. Perth, I suppose, is a good leveller. No matter how exciting an occasion turns out to be, there's only so much capital any victorious team can make out of the most isolated city on earth.

And so, while England's finest had bundled into the most exclusive nightclubs in existence, Australia chose instead to patronise one of the lowliest backpackers' hang-outs in the entire state. On Mondays, Perth rocks to the beat of the Deen on Aberdeen Street. It's Aus$10 for all that you can drink, and on the night that the Ashes were won and lost, that equates to a lot of beer.

And so, who should rock up? None other than Mr Brett Lee himself, legendary bass guitarist of the Sydney-based popular-beat combo, Six and Out, part-time Australian pace bowler and bone-fide good egg. He arrived in a blaze of head-turning, amid rumours that the rest of his victorious squad were also headed for a night on the tiles, but in the end the Deen's celebrity head-count was a measly two.


Lee and his axe-wielding cricket-loving pace-bowling blond colleague, Alan Mullally, were the only two notables in the venue. But that soon changed once Lee was on the stage and ready for action. Churlishly, as he launched into a fine bass rendition of "Brown-Eyed Girl", Lee was greeted with a chorus of "keep your arm straight when you bowl", but five well chosen syllables soon ensured that the taunts snagged in the tauntees' throats. "Err, 3-0 is it?" he announced

It wasn't quite the show-stopping performance that Flintoff's boys had managed, but it was a fine set nonetheless. As Lee joined the band members of "Slim Jim and the Fats" onstage, he stared with one eye at the neck of his borrowed guitar, determined not to muff a single note in spite of the delicate state of his co-ordination. He achieved his aim too, reeling off four songs and a bass solo before staggering off-stage and back into the melee of well-wishers. The Ashes retained, the gig complete - for Lee, it was all a pretty average day at the office.

	'It is my choice whether I sing or do not sing the anthem' © Getty Images

Jacques Kallis, very much the cornerstone of South Africa's Test side, is embroiled in a controversy over his refusal to sing the national anthem. A report in South Africa's Sunday Times suggests that Cricket South Africa will ask for an explanation from him after the Johannesburg Test.

The current anthem, first sung in 1996, is a combination of Nkosi Sikelel'iAfrika, which was a symbol of the resistance to Apartheid, and Die Stem (The Call of South Africa), which was adopted as the national anthem by the Apartheid regime in 1957. The issue regarding Kallis was first raised by a Sunday Times reader, Ebrahim Sadak, who wrote in to Cricket South Africa asking whether Kallis thought he was indispensible or "anti new
SA".

Ros Goldin, Cricket South Africa's marketing manager, wrote back to him saying: "While we do encourage all our players to sing the anthem, it is at their discretion whether they wish to do so. Jacques's choice not to sing is certainly not due to his being anti SA or because he thinks he is indispensable! It is simply his right within a democratic environment not to sing."

She went on to cite examples of other sportsman who didn't sing, including some South Africa footballers and rugby players, but Sadak wasn't appeased. Eventually, he got a reply from Kallis himself. "It is my choice whether I sing or do not sing the anthem," it said. "I certainly do not
have to explain my reasons to anyone, especially you. I do have good and valid personal reasons and I intend to keep it that way."

When the newspaper contacted Cricket South Africa, Gerald Majola's response was slightly different from Goldin's. Majola, the chief executive, said that the organisation "insists on having the SA anthem sung".

We haven't heard the last of this issue, especially given the hyper-sensitivity when it comes to matters of national identity. Three years ago, Springbok rugby was plunged into chaos after Geo Cronje, an Afrikaner with a beard straight out of the Voortrekker era, allegedly refused to share a room with a coloured team-mate, Quentin Davids. For all you know, Kallis might just be shy about singing in public, like so many of us, or maybe there's more to his silence than meets the eye.

	'Ali Bacher's love of the game still all too evident. The difference between him and the power-hungry businessmen threatening to take over the game couldn't be starker' © Getty Images

On the eve of the Test, as the evening shadows lengthen, we head to the suburb of Sandton, and a quiet bungalow that's home to a man who was Mr South African cricket for more than a quarter century. Aron Bacher, Ali to nearly everyone, captained one of cricket’s greatest sides, and then earned further renown as one of the best administrators that the game has seen. He eased himself out of the limelight after successfully planning and conducting the 2003 World Cup, and his association to cricket these days is limited to appearances at the Wanderers and SuperSport Park in Centurion.

Bacher walks slowly to the door when we arrive. Two bandages still cover his lower leg, a legacy of a second bypass surgery that he underwent last week, having first gone under the knife way back in 1981. "I've had about six escapes," he tells us with a smile later. "But I feel as good as new now. I walk three times a day, and might even make it to the Wanderers to catch play on Saturday and Sunday."

Bacher is an eloquent speaker, and he has no reluctance to admit to mistakes of the past. The rebel tours, which he helped organise, were a huge mistake in his view, errors of judgement that happened because "we lived in a cocoon during the Apartheid years". "Had I known that Apartheid would end, I would never have tried to organise it. But we felt we needed to keep interest in the game alive."

He narrates some fascinating anecdotes about South Africa being fast-tracked back into international cricket - "The meeting in Sharjah lasted just about 25 minutes, and the Pakistani general who was their board representative was the first to propose our return after having spent all meeting opposing it!" - and the amazing reception that the team
got at Eden Gardens for their first match back in November 1991.

He had woken up early in the morning to watch the Perth Test - "Monty bowled beautifully, didn't he? I can't understand why they didn't play him earlier" - and scoffs at the suggestion that standards have declined in recent years. "You have great players in every generation," he says. "Those like Lara and Tendulkar are every bit as good as [Graeme] Pollock and [Viv] Richards."

There's a wistful sigh when he talks of the team that he captained to a 4-0 rout of Australia back in 1969-70. "We had some amazing players," he said. "Most importantly, we had some great allrounders, guys like [Mike] Proctor, [Tiger] Lance and Eddie Barlow." Almost as an afterthought, he says with a laugh, "Even you could have captained the team, we had so much quality."

As we sip our tea, he enquires about Jagmohan Dalmiya, before shaking his head and saying: "You should know when to quit." And as we're about to take his leave, the phone rings. It's Jonty Rhodes, enquiring about his health. "Makhaya [Ntini] also called me," he says. "As for Jonty, he's a top man."

So's Bacher, with his love of the game still all too evident. The difference between him and the power-hungry businessmen threatening to take over the game couldn't be starker. As we leave, I glance at the portico. Two small plastic cricket bats lie on a shelf. He had talked of how he still loves to play and watch the game with his grandsons, 10 and
7. Who knows? The Bacher years in South African cricket may not yet be over.

	Angus Fraser rolls back the years at the WACA © Getty Images

I walked into a glass partition in the business centre of the team hotel last night. It was actually quite an easy mistake to make. They’d moved the pot-plant and given the window a wipe-down, and with lots of wide open space in front and behind it, it seemed the obvious way out. In fact, when another punter did exactly the same ten minutes later, an amused receptionist made a series of urgent phonecalls and a portable rainforest was delivered forthwith to the foyer.

I was still thinking about this indignity as I made my way down to the WACA last night to watch England’s “Legends” take on their Australian counterparts in a floodlit Twenty20 match. If something as obvious and natural as walking through a door can, in the wrong circumstances, become such an embarrassment, then what about something that for 20 years had been your livelihood? Bowling a cricket ball for instance.

“I was asked to play, but I said ‘No way’,” said Nasser Hussain, one of the wise few who avoided the bear-trap that had been set for him. As the 6.15pm start time approached, Nasser was still lurking in the corner of the business centre, struggling to get his head around his new iPod. “Once you’ve retired, that’s it,” he added between curses at his computer. “Still, I might pop down just to watch Fraser get spanked out of the park.”

Extraordinarily, no fewer than 17,147 good citizens of Perth turned up to do likewise, which just goes to show that slapstick will always endure as an art-form. Under the WACA’s gargantuan floodlights, two teams featuring other indisputable legends as Merv Hughes, Terry Alderman, Phil DeFreitas, Geoff Marsh, Kim Hughes and Devon Malcolm went toe-to-toe, with neither giving an inch, but several giving a yard or two - especially on the occasions they were caught napping or chatting to spectators on the advertising hoardings.

	Rodney Hogg: 4-0-36-0 © Getty Images

It was really rather surreal for the players and spectators alike, as the ghosts of great careers loomed out of their six-way floodlit shadows. Even the clothing had been teleported from another era - a very garish yellow for the Aussies and that puzzling light-blue that England one-day sides used to so favour. It was like watching a Perth Challenge match from 1986-87 on slo-mo widescreen. The characters were squatter and stutterier, but indisputably recognisable all the same.

Fraser’s great surging run and cloud-snagging action was certainly there to see, but it was not half as prominent as his world-weary trudge and shrug, as yet another delivery was belted into the stratosphere by Australia’s recently retired ringer Ryan Campbell, who top-scored with an outrageously brisk 60. It was John Emburey’s teasing off breaks - still effective in his 55th year - that hauled England back into contention with 3 for 20, including a steepling catch for a relieved Mike Gatting on the square-leg boundary. A testing total of 171, and game was very much on.

“Go Old Aussies Go” was the only banner that seemed to have made its way into the ground. An eight-year-old at long-off had made it, and he also managed to collect three autographs - all of them from the publicity hungry syrup salesman, Greg Matthews. Ever the extrovert, Matthews then borrowed the PA’s microphone during the Australian innings to point out bald gits in the crowd who might benefit from a trip to his pet hair-replacement studio.

The atmosphere, which was already humming with good-natured nostalgia, went the same way as one of Fraser’s half-volleys when Dennis Lillee, the WACA’s president and favourite son, entered the attack. At the age of 57, he took the new ball from three paces, with only the barest trace of his majestic coiled-spring action. But what he had lost in pace he had replaced in booming outswing, and Gatting lasted just two deliveries before grazing an edge through to Healy behind the stumps. Lillee saw out the over and retired to the dressing-room, where Ian Botham could be seen grinning maniacally in his unofficial capacity of England team manager and drinks-cabinet emptier. After his mid-week in the Barossa Valley, he too had taken the Hussain route, and opted not to gamble with his dignity.

Despite their set-back, England rallied through that old firm of Robin Smith and Graham Thorpe, who added 119 against the likes of Bruce Reid and Rodney Hogg, and victory was eventually sealed with seven wickets to spare. It was a rare English triumph, and a pleasing distraction from the battle that awaits tomorrow. But the hangovers were still evident the following morning. As a haggard Fraser rubbed his shoulder throughout the captains’ press conferences, Ricky Ponting announced there had been some odd goings-on behind the scenes.

“Dean Jones sent me a text message last night wanting to borrow a bat for the game,“ he said, “and Terry Alderman left a note in Matty Hayden’s shoes, telling him he’d borrowed them.” So long as someone also left a nice scuff-mark right on a length for Steve Harmison, the legends might just have perpetuated the interest in the main event.

Almost 24 hours after they wrapped up the tour game, one of the Indians
was still bowling in the middle at Sedgars Park. Anil Kumble played no
part in the 96-run win over Rest of South Africa, and he bounded in for
half an hour, with Dinesh Karthik keeping wicket. After that, Karthik
batted for a few minutes as Kumble went through the repertoire in
preparation for the first Test.

	Kumble bounded in for 30 minutes in the nets © AFP

On the other side of the pavilion, Rahul Dravid was first into the nets
against the bowling machine, showing little signs of discomfort ahead of a
match where his presence will be absolutely crucial. At an adjacent net,
Virender Sehwag practised against two local boys and Eduan Roos, who once
represented North West Under-19s and is now senior cricket writer for
Rapport, a Sunday newspaper in Afrikaans. It wasn’t quite adequate
preparation for Makhaya and friends, but after minimal time in the middle
in this game, any bat on ball will probably be beneficial.

The most interesting little practice took place in the tiled corridor
behind the main sightscreen, with Greg Chappell throwing plastic balls at
Wasim Jaffer. Jaffer’s form ahead of the first Test has given the team
management a headache or two, and the manner in which the plastic ball
took off from short of a length was a forerunner of what awaits on a
bouncy pitch against South Africa’s quick bowlers.

Back indoors, Louise Vorster, who played some cricket in her day and is
now media manager and director of the women’s academy, hopes that Sedgars
Park will host another international team soon. It’s a gorgeous ground,
surrounded by trees on all sides, and with grass banks for people to sun
themselves while watching a game. However, the lack of a cricket culture
comparable to the main cities means that international games are likely to
be few and far between.

Being a Sunday, the streets of the town are pretty much deserted. The
Indian restaurant we head to in the afternoon is closed – the woman in
charge is busy preparing a farewell dinner for the Indians – and we end up
at McDonald’s instead. Soon after we take our tables, a man in an India
T-shirt walks up to the counter. We didn’t quite catch what Sourav Ganguly
ordered, but hopefully it was something on the diet sheet.

	Jacques Rudolph fends off a rare lifter at the less whacky WACA © Getty Images

Forgive me while I make a bid for Private Eye's Pseud's Corner, but as a wannabee writer, I've always been a sucker for a bit of onomatopoeia. You know the construction I’m talking about - a word or phrase that imitates the sound it is representing: "The moan of doves in immemorial elms and the murmurings of innumerable bees,” as Alfred Lord Tennyson might have put it.

But let’s cut the classical crap. We’re in Australia now, and so there’s no need for such highfalutin examples. Especially not when we are talking about the most satisfyingly named sporting venue in the world. I refer, of course, to the WACA ground in Perth.

"The Whacker".

I love it. I mean, could any name be any more perfect? For as long as I can remember, I've carried visions around in my head of Dennis Lillee hurtling in from the sightscreen, whacking the ball into the rock-hard deck, whacking the ball into the side of a batsman's head, or whacking the ball into Rod Marsh's gloves (with the fingers pointing skywards, naturally).

And what about Roy Fredericks, whacking a 71-ball hundred in that astonishing blitzkrieg in 1975-76? Or Mark Waugh, whacking Daniel Vettori onto the roof of the Lillee-Marsh stand. I've been sat up there for the past two days, and believe me, that's quite some hit.

Whack, whack, whack. It's what Perth is all about. Lightning-fast bouncers, daring on-the-up strokeplay, wicketkeepers standing ten yards back from their usual marks. The absurd possibility of giving away six byes. It’s such an evocative venue, there should be English literature text-books written about the place

Unfortunately, they’d be rather out of date by now. The WACA is losing its whack, and cricket is all the poorer for it. Take the home team for example, Western Australia (or the Retravision Warriors, to give them their ghastly pseudonym). They opened this season's campaign with a massive 3 for 608 against Victoria, and today’s tediously high-scoring draw was not exactly a thrill a minute.

The international omens are little better. Last summer's Test was the scene of a remarkable rearguard century from Jacques Rudolph, who was so unruffled by the featherbed conditions that South Africa lost just three wickets on the final day, and held out for an improbable draw.

There are a hundred-and-one reasons why the bite has gone out of the deck. Australia’s decade-long drought is one of the state’s favourite scapegoats, but another reason could lie in the incredibly dilapidated state of the proud old ground. The WACA, sadly, is broke, and the pitch is merely a symptom of wider decay.

It’s not hard to see why. The WACA gets just one meaningful match a year (and it’s not always going to be an Ashes decider either). Down at the other end of town, on the other hand, the shiny great Subiaco Oval hoovers up most of the big gigs in town, from AFL fixtures to British Lions tours to Elton John concerts, and there’s very little left over by way of small change. Perth as a city is in the midst of a massive boom, but the WACA, with its semi-completed stands and air of Old Trafford-esque decrepitude, is very much on the bust.

Even so, it’s a ground that you want to warm to. It still maintains its grassy banks at midwicket, for instance, and having witnessed the soullessness of the newly reconstructed Gabba, it’s rather pleasing to cast your eye over the higgledy-piggledy seating arrangements that Perth has got lined up - a random spike of extra scaffolding here, a towerblock of ill-fitting pews there. Another capacity crowd is anticipated for this Test, and the clamour of 24,000 tightly packed punters will doubtless paper over the stadium’s cracks.

But, if there is any doubt about the status of the WACA, one only needs to turn one’s eyes to the skies, and drink in the sight of its six huge floodlights. They have dominated Perth’s skyline since 1986, and doubtless the ground’s balance sheets too. But they are still evidence that a mighty ambition exists within the walls of an improbably tiny ground.

	The crowd turned on the after-dinner entertainer in a rather unexpected fashion © Andrew Miller

Lilac Hill lies a half-hour’s drive from the centre of Perth, amid the fringes of the region’s wine industry. The ground is nestled on a tree-lined kink of the Swan River, and is the sort of place that evokes images of bucolic tranquillity. For English tourists, however, such appearances are invariably deceptive. In this fixture, there is always trouble in paradise.

“There’s no such thing as a festival game,” said Alec Stewart after England‘s latest mugging of the tour - a seven-wicket thrashing at the hands of a dervish-bladed Luke Ronchi. Stewart, England’s captain and top-scorer for the day, was still fresh as a daisy despite having played virtually no cricket since his retirement three years ago. That was more than could be said for the rest of his bedraggled team, who had various layers of ring-rustiness scoured off them in the course of the match.

To a backdrop of drunken baying hospitality tents, England’s Generation Next suffered varying degrees of discomfort - Chris Read picked up a fifth-ball duck, Jon Lewis vanished for 51 in seven overs, Liam Plunkett left the field with a dislocated finger and Monty Panesar’s bowling figures suffered a wind-assisted demolition at the hands of Ronchi, who rode a tempting cross-breeze to slap six after six after six. Given Steve Harmison’s infamous eight-wide over in this fixture four years ago, these indignities were more or less par for the course.

A crowd of more than 10,000 turned out to enjoy the spectacle, and revelled in the success of their local favourite, Chris Matthews, who - it would not be unfair to suggest - has been tucking into one or two pies since the days he faced England at the WACA in 1986-87. He wobbled to the crease like the Barmy Army in search of the bar, and yet emerged with three well-priced wickets under his sizeable belt - as many as all England’s bowlers picked up between them.

It was a breathless day all round, and not just for the men in the middle. When news filtered out early in the day that Damien Martyn had retired with immediate effect, it triggered the sort of flurry of activity that the pokey little press enclave had not been designed to accommodate. In fact, the area bore more of a resemblance to a cake-stand at a church fete, and so was not ideally designed for such a melee of stressed electronica and dangling cables. “Don’t spill your bloody coffee on my laptop,” fumed one cramped Aussie photographer to the English gentleman of the press sat next to him. “Actually it’s a cup of tea, and I have no intention of doing so,” came the testy retort.

Press conferences galore interrupted the flow of the day, as Ian Chappell, Dennis Lillee and Wayne Clark queued up to reminisce about Martyn’s career, before a wide-eyed Adam Voges was wheeled before the media to explain the bizarre circumstances of his call-up. A PA announcement was the first he knew of the vacancy in the Australian squad, and a tap on the shoulder at deep midwicket was how he learned he was filling it. “I thought I was in trouble,” he said, as Tony Dodemaide led him to the office to receive a phone call from Cricket Australia.

Nothing was quite so unexpected, however, as the goings-on in the corporate hospitality tent at the back of the pavilion. Roughly half the ground had been given over to various sponsors and their thirsty guests, and so at lunch, while the paying punters milled around on the outfield watching Panesar warming up, the rest rolled out to the marquee to fill their troughs. Several thousand boozy guests, armed with bread rolls, then turned on their after-dinner entertainer - a man who was clearly expecting trouble, given that he came dressed in the sort of garb that a baseball umpire might wear.

His crime? He was singing pro-Collingwood songs. Not the cricketer, I hasten to add, but the Aussie Rules Football team, a Melbourne-based team that one spectator informed me “are like Newcastle in England. Everyone hates them.” England’s cricketers were once likened to pie-chuckers by a Western Australian great, Rod Marsh. Western Australia’s cricket fans, it seems, are roll-flingers. And at Lilac Hill, it was the flingers who were the more effective.

	Cri-Zelda Brits - 'If people aren't aware that we're playing, they won't come and watch us' © Cricinfo Ltd

As the 22-year-old Morne Morkel summoned up a performance that was sure to catch the eye of the national selectors, an established international sat and watched from the space behind the sightscreen. Though Cri-Zelda Brits is only a year older than Morkel, she has already played 22 ODIs and three Tests for her country, opening both the batting and the bowling during the women's World Cup that was held in South Africa in March-April 2005.

Unfortunately, such is the nature of women's cricket that neither she nor her team-mates have played an international since a three-match one-day series against West Indies soon after their World Cup engagements were over.

The World Cup campaign was hardly a success, with four losses and a solitary win against West Indies. Brits, though, played her part, making 72 and taking 4 for 37 in the thrilling one-run victory over West Indies, and contributing scores of 49 and 46 against Australia and England. And in her last outing, in the series against West Indies, she made an unbeaten 62 in an emphatic ten-wicket win.

Brits now coaches the Northwest women's team, who are based in Potchefstroom, and is eagerly looking forward to January, when Pakistan's women's side tour South Africa. Being a female cricketer is no picnic though. Even if the women's game has come under the Cricket South Africa umbrella, the players are still amateurs, who have to work for a living. Brits coaches the provincial team and also runs her own academy, but several of her team-mates are not so fortunate.

The World Cup illustrated just how far South African women's cricket has to go to catch up with the top teams. "The one thing we found we lacked most was experience in the middle," she says. "The Australians, the English and the Indians play a lot of cricket. We just don't play that
often, and it shows."

The game is extremely popular among girls at school, where it competes with hockey. "We have Under-16 and U-19 teams," says Brits. "And we also have inland and coastal leagues." Most of those games are played out in front of non-existent crowds though, and Brits reckons that the game needs to be marketed a lot better to bring in the punters.

"It's a domino effect, isn't it?" she asks. "If people aren't aware that we're playing, they won't come and watch us. Maybe once they do, they'll come back again. It wouldn't be a bad thing, for example, if we could play before the men play a Pro20 game. We could play in the afternoon, like the under-card in boxing, and then they'd play under lights."

How hard is it to keep going though, with neither the financial rewards nor the attention? "You just have to keep the passion going," she says, with a half-smile. "I don't want a situation where girls play the game in school, and then stop because they feel there's no future in it. You have
to satisfy yourself with the inner rewards you get from playing a game you love. At the end of the day, you're not going to make a living from it."

She says that England's Charlotte Edwards, who she has played with at Kent, is her favourite player - "A classy batswoman" - and she also looked up to Jonty Rhodes for the excitement he brought to the game and his guts. And having been on a couple of tours that overlapped with the men, she says that there has been some encouragement from the marquee names as
well. "They've never turned their backs on us," she says. 'Whenever we've met, they've wished us luck."

And what does the future hold, both for Brits, and for women's cricket in this country? "I'd love to see it become at least a semi-professional game," she says. "There'd be more rewards, and more people playing." Can she see that happening? "I hope so," she says, with a shy smile. And as cricket strives to enhance both its audience and its playing base, you can
only wish that her optimism isn't misplaced.

	The party's over before anyone was really aware it had begun © Getty Images

Adelaide awoke this morning with a massive hangover. At least, I assume it did, because nothing else could quite explain how quiet the city was on the morning after the night before. The streets seemed empty, aside from a few bewildered Englishmen standing out from the (lack of) crowd in their “Douglas Jardine - Ashes hero” T-shirts, hoping against hope that everything they’d just witnessed had all been a bad dream.

I’d imagined this moment ever since I first starting watching Ashes routs. What would it be like, I wondered, to be Pom Down Under, on the day after England had slumped to one of their most wretched defeats in history? The answer surprised me, because the result had surprised everyone. Australia, it seemed, was too shocked even to gloat.

The headline on The Age summed up the mood perfectly. “How could it be?” they asked, after watching their respected opponents regress by approximately 16 years in an imitation of Graham Gooch’s domino-ralliers of 1990-91. To a connoisseur of English batting disasters, nothing quite topped the events at Melbourne on that trip - until now.

Like all the best collapses, it started with a tremor. A little frisson of excitement, made all the more dangerous by the sense of injustice that had gone into Andrew Strauss’s dismissal. Could it? Would it? Ian Bell, confused into being in a hurry after he and Strauss had swapped ten runs in ten overs, then added to the alarm, and by the time Kevin Pietersen had swept hubristically at his first ball from Shane Warne, the day’s expectations had gone into total meltdown.

Not least the expectations in Adelaide’s Central Business District, the clutch of high-rises that lie beyond the “City” End of the ground. The prospect of a brisk day’s trading on a warm Monday morning went straight out of the 12th-floor window, as the white-collar workers downed spreadsheets and legged it expectantly across the River Torrens.

The official figure for the final day was 20,355, although that was announced at 5pm, just as the gates were thrown open to allow the baying masses free access for the final hour-and-a-half of Australia’s chase. A total figure of 136,761 had watched the match - the most at Adelaide since the 1958-59 series. There’s definitely something sadistic about the Australian psyche. That match was a ten-wicket thrashing that brought the Ashes back with a game to spare.

But sadism on the streets? Not a bit of it.

	'Though both Rahul Dravid and Sachin Tendulkar are on the mend, everyone gathered at the outdoor nets was waiting for just one man' © Getty Images

Seldom can one man have so dominated a training session. Sourav Ganguly arrived 90 minutes after everyone else, having driven straight from Oliver Tambo International Airport in Johannesburg, barely pausing to drop off his bags at the Willows Hotel. And though both Rahul Dravid, the captain, and Sachin Tendulkar are on the mend, everyone gathered at the outdoor nets was waiting for just one man.

He made his entrance quietly, shook some hands, exchanged pleasantries, padded up, and then went across to do some stretches under Greg King's supervision. And just before he made the acquaintance of the bowling machine, Anil Kumble had a quiet word and a smile for him.

Ian Frazer led him in, and the first ball sent down from a height sneaked through bat and pad. Reassuringly for those watching, the next few all thudded into the meat of the bat. Ganguly, who averages 32.44 from his five Tests in South Africa, was getting into line and playing mostly from the back foot. At one point, as a ball sped off in the direction of cover, Frazer yelled, "I like it."

By then, Greg Chappell had asked Sreesanth and VRV Singh to be prepared. "Full-match intensity, boys," he said, and soon after Ganguly moved to the adjacent net for his first taste of real pace. The first ball was a bouncer that he ducked, and there was a "well bowled" for the bowler. Sreesanth and VRV were up next, along with a brawny local pace bowler
whose pace wasn't quite in sync with his immense physique.

Sreesanth, who professes to always having been a fan, tested Ganguly with a couple of deliveries that moved off the seam to fly off the bat airily in the direction of point, but a superb fast yorker that VRV bowled was expertly dug out. Then, as the local kept trying to bounce him, Chappell took him to one side and said: "You should follow it up with one that tempts him to drive instead of keeping on bouncing him."

Soon after, with Sreesanth discussing wrist positions with the local boy, Ganguly moved to the next net for the far less arduous task of facing some spin. For a man who had landed on South African soil just five hours earlier, the first glimpses were more than encouraging.

	'The manner of Graeme Smith's dismissal - shuffling across to be struck in line - had all the inevitability of a sunset in the west' © Getty Images

At one in the afternoon, it was doubtful whether the Pro20 game would take place at all, with a leaden sky and distant rumblings of thunder. But by the time we arrived at the ground, an hour before the scheduled start, most of the dark clouds had vanished, and a carnival atmosphere was slowly being built up. Cheerleaders dressed in blue set the tone, and a Bollywood-style dance routine and the national anthems roused a less-than-capacity crowd to fever pitch as the teams walked out to commence the game.

There were ironical cheers when Graeme Smith middled the first ball from Zaheer Khan. His travails have been well documented, and though he managed 16 today, the manner of his dismissal - shuffling across to be struck in line - had all the inevitability of a sunset in the west. Zaheer was in sensational form, conceding just 15, and by the time he completed his spell, India were right on top. Justin Kemp and Albie Morkel briefly had the home fans up on their feet, but all the Indian bowlers contributed significantly in restricting the final total to 126.

Morkel's six off Harbhajan Singh soared high over the scoreboard and into some distant street, and Virender Sehwag, captaining the side a day after he lost the Test-match vice-captaincy, appeared determined to match his efforts with a violent slashed six over point. During the mid-match break, the mystery behind the Pro20 moniker had also been solved, with Kate
Johns, a Public Relations Manager for Standard Bank, explaining why it wasn't called Twenty20 as it is in other parts of the world.

"Three years ago, when we started playing the format, there was another bank called Twenty20 in existence. So, to name it that wasn't possible,"she said. "Since then, we've worked very hard to build up the Pro20 brand.There might be a few issues when the World Cup is hosted next year though, since the ICC call it Twenty20."

For those of us exposed to this form of the game for the first time, it was a revelatory experience. It may appall the purist at times, but on a fairly lively pitch, we witnessed a terrific contest. Charl Langeveldt and Johan van der Wath matched Zaheer in the economy stakes, but the manner in which Sehwag and Mongia played early on ensured that the middle order
weren't left with much to do.

The youngsters in the team have copped a lot of flak in recent times, and it was fitting that it was one of them, Dinesh Karthik, who spearheaded the final surge to the target. The game finished well after the scheduled time, but a penultimate-ball finish kept bums on seats right to the end.

The game also showcased one of the game's characters. Reputed to be a pack-a-day smoker, Roger Telemachus's laid-back approach has prevented him from being anything more than a fringe player. He's 34 now, but the way he huffs and puffs, even during a two-over spell, you'd be forgiven for thinking that he was turning out in a veterans' game. In the age of the super-athlete, he's a throwback to cricket's stone age, when some grog and a smoke or two constituted a break. Gatorade? What's that?