I can’t believe how few people have been watching the Test in Mohali. Each day I hope it will get better, but it hasn’t. When reading about India it’s "cricket mad this", "fanatical that". Not in Tests in the Punjab. At times during this match it has made a sparse crowd in Hobart, Australia’s smallest venue, seem gigantic.

The first day was the saddest, when so few saw Sachin Tendulkar’s record, but by Sunday, a holiday and with India well on top, there were only a sprinkling of supporters in the morning. Throughout the day there was a gradual build up, but the ground was still barely half full. One reason for so many free seats is that Chandigarh is a small city by India’s standards (Mohali, a suburb, has a population of about one million!) and the well-equipped stadium is a 20-minute drive from the centre.

Another is Twenty20. This stadium apparently bounces at capacity when the Kings XI Punjab play in the Indian Premier League. It’s shocking to experience such a different atmosphere for a Test in a series that now rivals the Ashes in prestige. Here it’s like the locals have been introduced to Formula One and no longer have time to watch cycling.

In Bangalore the crowds were noisy and the Saturday was a fabulous day, but to me something is still missing in India. I saw Greg Chappell walking along the beach in Goa a few years ago and expected him to be swamped by fans. More people were trying to sell me beads than talk to him. The love of Indians for cricket is not a myth, but so far I’m finding it’s greatly exaggerated.

There are some branching reminders of home in Chandigarh. Every so often there is a eucalyptus tree poking up and out along the streets. In Australia they are everywhere: in my backyard, the bush, children’s parks and cricket grounds. Their shade protects, the smell of the crushed leaves is uplifting and they are great for climbing, although that won’t be happening here.

In Murray Bail’s book Eucalyptus the owner of a big block of rural land plants as many varieties of the tree he can find and sets a challenge. Whoever can name them all can marry his beautiful daughter. I guess then at least he’d have something to talk to the stranger about at those awkward early family dinners.

My little girl shouldn’t worry. I promise that in 20 or so years I won’t make her special friend name the 1989 and 1993 Ashes squads to be allowed to go on a date with her. To young boys out there who face this problem, the tricky ones are Greg Campbell and Wayne Holdsworth.

Bail’s book was about to be turned into a movie until Russell Crowe, who was due to star in it, called things off shortly before filming started. I’m not sure which varieties they have in Chandigarh, but it’s nice to spot something familiar.

As the moon rises the buzz on the Chandigarh streets lifts from relatively quiet - from what I’ve seen in India - to buoyant, busy and honkingly loud. Charcoal fires sear chicken tikka on spears and the smell of both showers across the street. By day the chai makers, who squat next to small gas cookers and filter their drinks, are there, but by night there are more foods to try – but I don’t. The samosas on a metal stand look yummy with, I’m guessing, tamarind chutney. People stop like they’re buying a paper, then briskly step off to the next errand. It’s a convenient walk-through takeaway.

Below the yellow moon on the street there is much more colour. Turbans bob as their wearers walk – my favourite so far is bright pink – and the patkas, which Harbhajan Singh uses, seem more popular among the younger men. This is Harbhajan’s home state and Singh is a name on many shop signs.

I’m just looking for a chemist so I can buy some handwash and vitamins. “Go right, then left” is one set of directions, but after ten minutes I turn back. “Straight down there,” a second person urges. No luck, but lots of window shopping.

There are so many mobile phone outlets, so I was surprised when I was taken to get a SIM card and we ended up in a store selling watches. Cheap watches, and SIM cards. They go together like the shoe-and-shampoo combination in a nearby shop. I’ve just read The God of Small Things and the owner’s banana jam is banned because it’s too runny for jam and too thick for syrup (don’t worry, it’s not the whole plot). I wonder whether shoes or shampoo sell best.

The watch-SIM card shop wants a copy of my passport, a letter from the hotel, a passport photo (it requires a sidetrip) and 350 rupees. I managed to negotiate to get it without needing to promise one of my children. Eventually I can make a call. It’s easier to get a bank loan in Australia.
On the walk back the son of a chai seller is packing up. A bucket of water heads for the street, pushed by a straw brush, like an arm of the scarecrow in Wizard of Oz. Tea time has quickly been replaced by pre-dinner snacks.

	Roger Page with his remarkable collection of books © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

The cricket-playing world contains its set of pilgrimages. Few West Indian fans leave Barbados before paying respect to Frank Worrell's grave and Aussie diehards do the same with Victor Trumper's tombstone in Sydney. For lovers of cricket literature, though, there is a venue that one cannot miss: Roger Page's unbelievable collection in a suburb outside Melbourne.

Page began as a scorer and statistician in Melbourne before moving to a profession in cricket books back in 1969. Over the years he's built up a remarkable collection of close to 10,000 books, all stacked and catalogued in his spacious house in Macleod, Victoria. So prolific is the collection that even his kitchen isn't spared – with two stacks beside the cutlery.

He's devoted an entire room for his "personal favourites", writers close to his heart, but the rest, a combination of first and second hand books, are up for sale. His visitor list is an illustrious one. "Richie Benaud, a big collector himself, comes here sometimes, as does Ian Chappell."

He goes on to pull out a copy of Chappelli, the autobiography, and shows me the inscription inside: "To Ray Steel: the manager who had to tear his hair out every time he won." Steel was the manager on Australia's 1972 tour to England, a trip often remembered as the point from where Chappell's side didn't look back.

Bishan Bedi has been here too as has Steve Randell, the former umpire. But Page's fondest memory was a time during the 1992 World Cup. "So many people were here. And one says he was the biggest collector of books in the USA and the other says he's the biggest collector in England. It was quite some day."

	A bristling Adelaide Oval ... the place to be, and home of a celebrity © Getty Images

You know it's not a state day when the ground is buzzing to brimming and the beautiful Adelaide Oval 2 has been turned into a car- and marquee-park. You know it's not a state day when 60 or 70 journalists, not five, turn up.

The indoor training centre is now also a media hang-out, where lunch is served, too. Big fridges chill hundreds of bottles, and huge vats offer curry after succulent curry and plenty of rice.

There's a hunger for stories though (but that's nothing new), yet so much so that so many interview requests mean that press conferences are even arranged in the centre in the lunch break. However, it's not the current icons – Sachin, Ricky, Mahendra – who get the glory of these extra sessions, but slightly oddly the retired Darren Lehmann and player-turned-commentator Greg Blewett, both of whom are ex-South Australia players.

A smattering of people, mainly Indian, arrive on the first day and politely ask general questions of Lehmann, although he is quizzed on the Pakistan situation in his capacity as ACA president. There's no real update, which is hardly his fault, so the news is: no news.

The next day Blewett is also asked about his general thoughts of the match unfolding, but there can be no ACA questions for him, and the conference is wrapped up in ten minutes.

The piece de resistance though is when Les Burdett, the head groundsman, or curator as the job's known here, is put up for not one, but two media conferences. The first, on the day before the match, makes sense as all those writing a preview want to know what the track's going to do, but then comes the announcement of another one during the afternoon of day two.

"Was the notification email sent by mistake?" wonders a colleague. But no. Instead we are summoned mysteriously to Montefiore Hill, a lookout to the north of the ground, which demands something of a climb in the scorching sun. There we meet Les and hear some important news, which is embargoed until the next day, so it cannot be reported just now.

It was worth the climb. A beaming Les is a natural in front of the many TV cameras, engaging each and every one of us. Then again he is something of a celebrity round this way. That, in fact, was one of the very first things I heard on my first visit to the Adelaide Oval, three months ago. It seems that only in Adelaide can a groundsman be a celebrity.

Curious, I asked Les for the explanation of his fame – the Adelaide Oval is beautiful, one of the world's best, but is it that good? - and it turns out that five years ago he was in a big ad campaign for West End beer, a local tipple, whose brewery sponsor the Redbacks. This involved him being on television and giant advertising hoards at the airport for a fair while, long enough to build up near-cult status.

He bashfully admits that people, especially children, still recognise him. To prove the point, as we whiz back to the gates on his buggy-truck, a random fan in his thirties jumps on board at the back and joins us for the ride. "Get on!" the man then shouts to his two children, jokingly, but to his surprise Les stops the vehicle and wide-eyed the boys climb on board, earnestly thanking the nice driver.

"This is Les Burdett," intones their father solemnly, still taken aback by such geniality. "He's a famous man."

	Greg Blewett doesn't have fond memories of the Eden Gardens © Getty Images

Greg Blewett, the former Australia batsman, is here. An Adelaide local, he had a sensational start to Test cricket (including a century on debut) before gradually fading away. Interestingly the only two venues when he remembers the crowd noise clouding his thoughts are MCG and Eden Gardens.

"It was in 1998 and I remember walking in at No.3 and being bowled by a first-ball yorker from Javagal Srinath. The best part about that was he had come to Adelaide the year before that and trained with us. And he had said to me, 'you have too big a back-lift. If I were bowling to you I would slip in the yorker straight away. And a few months later he did just that. Talk about being warned."

**

We're discussing tail-end batsmen and Kerry O'Keefe, the former Australian
legspinner, tells a wonderful story of how he batted so well in the nets
but couldn't replicate that out in the match. "I used to middle everything
there and couldn't do much out in the middle. Once in a tour match in New
Zealand, Greg Chappell suggested that I think of the innings as a net
session. So my team-mates made a cap with a net hanging from it and sent
me in. It was like Lawrence of Arabia or something, walking into bat in
chilly New Zealand."

**

All the New South Wales players wore black arm-bands on the second day.
The reason? For the passing away of the ex-NSW physio's grand-mother.

**

Talking about death, Martin Crowe had a famous dictum for this ground.
Three things are certain in life: death, taxes and a hundred at the
Adelaide Oval. Sachin Tendulkar might not have agreed for so long but must
be nodding eagerly after this.

	Catchy tees, catchy nicknames © Cricinfo Ltd.

Pardon me, but I had to record this. Just as I entered the main gates of the Adelaide Oval on the second morning of this final Test I happened to read the word 'monkey'. Obviously in the aftermath of 'Bollyline' that was the last word anyone expected to see inside the confines of Cricket Australia's grounds. But there it was printed in acrylic green, on the backside of a yellow tee-shirt, worn by a 25-something Australian spectator.

Without hesitation I tapped the gentleman on his shoulder and inquired if it wasn't a touch brave in the prevailing circumstances, what with Harbhajan Singh's appeal against alleged racist abuse of Andrew Symonds coming up in a few days. He didn't agree, adding that it was a moniker he had had for years. In normal circumstances, it would not seem out of place amid other nicknames like 'banana boat', 'duck', or even 'giggy'. Lucky for this eager fan that he didn't have to carry that monkey on his back through the normal stands, as he was safely ensconced
inside a corporate box.

	Tendulkar clips a single through midwicket off Stuart Clark to bring up his half-century and immediately turns and points his bat to acknowledge the Bharat Army before anyone else © Getty Images

Don't try to interview passionate India fans (as if there's any other kind) when Sachin Tendulkar is batting. For one, they've barely got half an ear on the questions, while you have more stop-starts with the tape than a nervous sprint-race starter. You simply can't hear anything other than a roar of "Sachin! Sachin! Sachin!" when he so much as touches the ball if you're sitting anywhere near the three main 30-strong clumps of India fans at the Cathedral End, which should be renamed the Sachin Stand. All are based in Adelaide, most studying potentially lucrative IT, engineering or business. Even the majority of the Bharat Army, one of the three groups, have made Adelaide their semi-permanent home as students here, although these loyal followers have travelled throughout Australia following India since Boxing Day. "No-one else matches his class," murmurs Gill, a Bharat Army member, over three takes of the tape. "I want to watch him just get a century." Does Tendulkar love the support? "Definitely he does, he looks back over here when he gets a half-century," he smiles proudly. "Keep a close eye."

Two overs later Gill's proven right: Tendulkar clips a single through midwicket off Stuart Clark to bring up his half-century and immediately turns and points his bat to acknowledge the Bharat Army before anyone else, even his team-mates.

Rajeed, another Army member, is not surprised. "He is a good man, very polite, and he has not changed," he said, echoing everyone canvassed. "That's why he's so popular in India. He is like a God and he's treated just next to the prime minister. I'm sure that if he participated in the prime ministerial elections he is going to be the next prime minister."

It's not just that he's the best in his field - "He is legend!" smiles Harish, "Legend is ultimate word," adds Vamshi - it's that he's the best in cricket, too. "Cricket has murdered other sports in India," says Lovepreet, yet another student, who also thinks Tendulkar's appearance accounts for 25% of the Indian fans here. "He has done a lot for India, even his record doesn't tell the full story. He's been consistent."


Has Tendulkar unwittingly, albeit beautifully, massacred anyone else's chances to be held so reverently in the future? "There will be no-one like him," reckons Vamshi, but Lovepreet is not so sure. "People used to say when Sunil Gavaskar retired, 'Who will bat for India now?' but time goes on, people come and go, it's not going to stop. I will still go on India tours when he's gone."

Tendulkar has to retire one day and this could be his last Test in Australia. Most people are expecting this, but not Rajeed. "I think he is planning for a long time. He is saying that 'I can play at least for four or five years'. The people are saying, he is not saying 'I am retiring after this series'. I think he will play the next World Cup in 2011."

Regardless, while the Army has had t-shirts made to spell out one word if they line up properly, it's not the word 'Sachin' emblazoned. It's that of their country. And in among the joyous "Sachin! Sachin! Sachin!", an equally infectious "India! India. India! India." starts up and it's impossible not to join in.

Not everyone is in raptures over the man who has scored more than 11,000 Test runs. While most of the home fans undoubtedly respect Tendulkar - Australians loves a champion - some are indifferent. "I don't rate him very highly," says 26-year-old Andy. "He's not really a phenomenon here. We just feel the ripple effects from India and through other Indians and expats here in Australia."

But when he hears that while Tendulkar was coming into bat, among the resounding cheers were jeers and boos and someone even shouted: "You suck, Tendulkar", Andy is quick in response. "That's disrespectful and offensive. You wouldn't do it to anyone."

Later, Tendulkar brings up his century cover-driving Michael Clarke and the whole ground stands as one, Australian fans leading the bowing in fact. Tendulkar, it seems, has won yet another set of fans over.

If this is his last Test here then he has picked his moment well, particularly as he came averaging 20.33 here, way down on his in-Australia average of 55.50. He more than surpassed it though, with an innings that will live long in the memory.

	Terry Jenner feels youngsters would be better off emulating Anil Kumble rather than Shane Warne © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

A sizeable crowd has landed up to watch the Indian practice session. Anil Kumble and Harbhajan Singh are bowling in adjacent nets and it’s difficult to find even an inch of space behind the netting. Standing amid the photograph-seeking group is a shrewd observer, folding his arms and watching them intently.

Think Terry Jenner and the image that pops up in your head is a portly and cheerful man who observed Shane Warne from behind the sidelines. A legspinner who’s career never really took off, Jenner is now associated as a mentor to Warne, arguably the game’s greatest bowler.

As he chats he’s keeping a close watch on Kumble. “I’m trying to see how many balls he’s tossing above the batsmen’s eye-line and how many he’s pushing through flat,” he says. Irfan Pathan, a left-hander, is on strike and Jenner wants to see a googly. “Maybe he’s holding it back for the match but I would want to see him bowl them once in a while.

“What I also want to see is Kumble bowl the unorthodox legbreak, one with a lot of overspin,” he said ripping his right hand as if he’s completed a table-tennis smash. “That’s what gives the ball a bit more zip and allows it to bounce off the surface.”

Would a youngster be better off emulating Warne or Kumble? “Very hard to say but maybe I’d have to say Kumble. It’s slightly easier to maintain your accuracy without spinning it that much. Warne spun it big and kept it tight.”

You need to give Jenner some space when he talks. Suddenly he’ll swing his arms around, describing a kind of delivery. He snaps his fingers for the flipper, cuts his wrist across for the slider, opens his palm wide for the “other slider” and twirls his fingers for the googly.

Suddenly he pushes his front foot forward. “That’s what Ricky Ponting has been doing all series, pushing at the ball hard from the beginning. In the 2001 series Harbhajan got him with offbreaks but now he’s got him with toppies (top spinners).”

By now he’s waving his arms around and describing the different deliveries. What started off as a silent observation has turned into a demonstration session. All it took was the word “spin”.

	The set of stumps used in David Hookes' last game as well as a bat and red cap are arranged in tribute © Getty Images

India will have many memories of Adelaide but it appears to be the city where they find their physios. John Gloster, their current physio, is from here as was Andrew Leipus, the earlier incumbent. Gloster studied in Pembroke School in Adelaide, the one where former Test cricketer John Inverarity was vice-principal. He remembers playing a lot of sport and sitting on the banks during matches at the Adelaide Oval. In a way this is his home game, catching up with friends and getting back to where it all started.

**

Walk around the Adelaide Oval and it’s tough to miss the aura of David Hookes, South Australia’s fondly remembered son, who was killed a few years ago. Several framed pictures adorn the walls and Les Burdett, the groundsman, pulls out T-shirts embroidered with the Hookes’ bat leaning against the stumps pose. As a habit Hookes used to rest his bat against the stumps when he walked off for a break, and hung his cap there too. Burdett suggested that the arrangement be associated with Hookes and is now part of most of the memorabilia. "It was an image I could never take away from my head. I used to go out there to sweep the pitch or make a marking and you would see Hooksey's bat and cap there."

Burdett has another interesting story. "I remember Ricky Ponting and Brett Lee and a host of others who were part of our academy in Adelaide many years ago. Rod Marsh, the head of the academy then, used to insist that the boys learnt all aspects of cricket. So for a short while Ricky, Brett and the rest were part of the groundstaff too. They used to learn how to use the roller, mark out the pitch areas, mow the grass, water the outfield. It was all part of their learning process. And they were young boys then so I used to pay them a bit of allowance. I still remember Ricky coming to me one day and saying, 'You forgot to pay me today'. I suddenly realised the little fella had done a lot of work and gave him a bonus. I remind him often of those days. Even now he sometimes jokes about it."

**

We pass by Fort Glanville and are told that it’s South Australia's first military fortification. The interesting bit was it was built, in 1878, in response to widespread fear of Russian invasion.

	The WACA members line up ready to claim their favourite seats © Nagraj Gollapudi

Traditions enrich the game of cricket. And these traditions have more often than not extended beyond the ropes. One such case exists at the famed WACA in Perth, and this one has to do with the members. Not those snooty ones that occupy the best seats to get the best views. These members are the ordinary Tims, Toms, Janes and Jennys who go that extra yard to live their passion for the game of cricket.

It's eight in the morning at the WACA and play is still three and a half hours away, but the gates at the Truman Entrance outside the Members Pavilion are already buzzing with life. Men, women, families of all ages have been camping outside the gates for hours, some even from as early as 3am. These are not the fairweather fans looking for last-minute tickets. These are members of the WACA who pay a A$220 season fee but burn the midnight oil for five days just so that they can occupy their seat in the members' stand at the Lillee-Marsh end.

There was a crowd of around 500 queued up outside the gates with some of them still getting out of their sleeping bags while a few were lying on the mats weary from the long night vigil. Die-hards recall about 2000-plus people bunking it out outside during last year's visit by England, so that they could reach their vantage point in the stands.

"People want the very seat they sat on the last time around," says Rohan, an Indian based in California but who times his vacation to coincide with the Test match at the WACA. Rohan's wife is from Perth and he has been using her membership and this is the second year in a row he has come to the ground. His cricket mania isn't new: Rohan was one of the many volunteers who would score, do ball-by-ball commentary and report for Cricinfo back in the days when the website was just taking seed.

David, who goes by the name of Blob on the IRC's Cricinfo chatroom, has been a WACA member now for 12 years. As a four-year-old he saw Dennis Lillee at the WACA in 1970. As a kid his love for the Western Australian team would see him doing his homework watching cricket at his home ground. As a grown-up he does live scoring on his yellow notepad every Test. Blob feels these die-hard members are "tragics", and goes on to explain why. "I use that term," he says, "because of the length we guys go for the love of cricket. It's like a story of the tragic."

Paul Urquhart, a project manager in Sydney, left his job to see the first ball of the on-going contest between Australia and India this time around. "This is the second year in a row I've had to leave my job so that I could make it here," says Urquhart, who looks touching 40s and has the spirit of a larrikin. Urquhart left his job during the Ashes last year as his employers wanted to tie him down with work commitments but he wanted to break free and arrived in time to join the huge throngs outside the Members Stand.

So why do these guys want to sit in the same seat? What's so special? "Each one of us has worked out for ourselves which one point it is from where we can get what we want," Rohan says. And most of the time, yes, you guessed it, it's behind the bowler's arm. Blob likes to sit just about a metre to the left of the bowler's arm. Rohan, Blob's immediate neighbour, likes to see it from a "height". Then there are the older members who have been coming in groups for decades and know no-one will occupy their seats. The Lyalls, John and Cynthia, both 84 years of age, have been "residents" of their seats in the centre of the Lillee-Marsh Stand now for 38 years. "Except for the Test against South Africa few years back we haven't missed any," says John, who worked at the WACA for ten years as a crowd facilitator when the members used to sit at the old Prindiville Stand. "We have our own group," says Cynthia, pointing at their entire row to her right and left before adding "and we all are traditionalists".

Yes, it's easy to see these members are purists at heart. Even if there are shouts and murmurs round the ground, the Members Stand practices a strict sense of decorum. "It's about discipline," says Cynthia. Not that it's always quiet. There are numerous anecdotes exchanged, a number of cricketing stories told, a whole lot of discussions, debates and vox populis held that binds this tight group together.

"I like to listen to stories from the times when I was not even born," Rohan says. For Blob it's sharing the cricket with "like-minded people". A tradition these guys believe makes cricket that much more interesting.

	John Traicos, the former Zimbabwe offspinner, now settled in Perth © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

The name John Traicos evokes many memories. Born in Egypt, Traicos endured a 23-year wait between two Test appearances. He debuted with the mighty South African team of the late ‘60s and ended as the elder statesman in a young Zimbabwe side. He had a distinct offspinner's action and, even at 45, fielded brilliantly. Settled in Perth, he retains the stoic look and chooses his words carefully.

Traicos has witnessed discrimination all his life. He grew up in apartheid South Africa and later experienced the harsh realities in an ever-changing Zimbabwean landscape. He has strong views on racism and is visibly pained by the events of the past ten days. It gets even more interesting because Traicos’ team-mate during his early Tests was Mike Procter, the man at the centre of the current furore.

“I think a lot of racism in cricket can be misunderstood,” he says sternly, “but the cricketing environment we have at the present is important. We have a team that plays very hard and their style of play doesn’t help. A lot of players around the world respect the Australian cricketers but don’t necessarily enjoy their style of play.

“I don’t believe the atmosphere of sledging has helped at all. I don’t believe you need to sledge as a systematic process, simply because it gets to abuse. Everybody plays the game hard, and you play a bit of a prank now and than, but there’s a different between that and a systematic mental
rattling. It’s a systematic feature of cricket that has to be eradicated.”

	Chris Rogers, like Adam Gilchrist, was born in New South Wales but moved to Western Australia to play cricket © Getty Images

A light-hearted cheer went up near the Prindville Stand around six in the evening. Umpire Billy Bowden turned down a loud appeal from Mitchell Johnson, when he yorked Rahul Dravid, and a small section of the crowd responded with, "We want Bucknor, we want Bucknor". It was one of the few noises made on a rather quiet day, one where a genteel wave swept across the WACA.

It's been a tumultuous week but the events of the first day - for most of it at least - were disconcertingly slow. The anti-climax surrounding the pitch didn't help but you would still expect some noise, at least from the grass banks. Things picked up towards the evening, especially with Australia fighting back with wickets, and a few spectators were even warned. One cheekily held a banner that read, "No more monkey abuses" and was promptly told to pack it in. Another tried his best to stir up the crowd but was led out of the ground when he began to swear.

A crowd of about 16,000 watched the first day's play. It's worthwhile pointing out what Wisden had to say about the very first Test in Perth, back in December 1970. "It was perfectly organised, and nearly 85,000 spectators saw it. That number was nearly twice that at Brisbane, and gate receipts in the region of £50,000 were almost three times as large." Thirty-seven years since and the atmosphere seems to have diminished.

The Australian cricketers behaved like schoolboys sitting on the front bench. The ferociously quick Shaun Tait actually apologised to Sachin Tendulkar after appealing for a caught-behind decision. No-one else appealed since it had rapped his forearm. There was soon another appeal against Tendulkar, a really close shout from Andrew Symonds, but the reactions were a sight for the times: Symonds cursed himself, Adam Gilchrist and Michael Clarke turned around to chat about it, and Ricky Ponting let out a gentle apologetic kick.

And if the atmosphere got heated at all, there was the quiz show to divert the attention. Through the day, every ten minutes or so, a question would be asked over the public announcement system, urging spectators to send in their responses. Just as Brett Lee seemed to be setting up Tendulkar in a fine spell, we were asked, 'Which Australian fielder has the most number of catches?' Talk of enjoying a good contest.

It was a fine day for cricket: hot, bright and pleasantly windy. Justin Langer was out there first thing in the morning and subconsciously started to step towards the middle of the pitch, tempted to indulge in some shadow practice. Soon he realised he was in his leather boots, not spikes, and didn't need to practice at all. "The umpire looked up at me in a funny way and I thought, 'This is not your stage any more'. I then just watched Ricky Ponting go through the motions."

Half an hour before the toss Langer was in the thick of the action, presenting Chris Rogers with his baggy green cap. It's been more than a year since he retired but Australia's next crop of openers isn't allowing us to forget his style: Phil Jaques turned into a like-for-like replacement and Rogers, in Adam Gilchrist's words, isn't attractive but effective.

Kerry O'Keeffe, the former Australian legspinner who regaled the press and corporate guests during lunch, felt Rogers had shown how colour-blindness wasn't an impediment to Test cricket. He also reminded everyone of how John Rogers, Chris' dad, played a few games for New South Wales. "There's Gilchrist from New South Wales and now Rogers," he said with the distinctive laugh that's thrilled radio audiences across the country. Wonder what O'Keefe thought of Clarke's latest crew cut, in light of his recent comments about NSW players being given a bottle of hydrogen peroxide along with their state caps.

	A former Deputy Prime Minister was ignored in the scramble to hear the Australian captain © AFP

We're standing waiting for Ricky Ponting to arrive for the pre-match press conference when a friendly, unassuming man begins a conversation about India, cricket and everything in between. It's not exactly the best time to talk and I'm fidgeting around, trying to find a way to end the conversation. With one eye on the door, I am trying to keep track of what is being said. "I spent a lot of time in Burma," he seems to be saying. Now that's not on the agenda today, I'm thinking. I have a Ponting press conference, then Anil Kumble, then a preview for the match, maybe something about the 'spirit of cricket' and the usual 'time to move forward' cliché. And here I have someone saying, "And it's great to see cricket in the subcontinent." He's obviously well travelled and well read but I wish I could catch him at a more relaxed time.

Ponting is a bit delayed and the conversation finally comes to a logical conclusion. "Sorry we haven't introduced ourselves. I am Tim Fischer, the former Deputy Prime Minister of Australia. Hope to see you around." Work suddenly seemed trivial.

**

We spend the evening at the Sir Donald Bradman Oration. Before you fall off your seats, the Oration was established by Cricket Australia in 2000 as a means of marking the Don's contribution to the Australian way of life. John Howard, the former Prime Minister, Richie Benaud, a former Australia captain, Alan Jones, the renowned broadcaster, and Michael Parkinson, the television personality, have delivered lectures in the years gone by. Today it was the turn of Peter Cosgrove, the former head of the Australian Defence Force, who described himself as an ordinary punter, but not of the Ponting variety.

Bradman obviously remains Australian cricket’s most revered and influential figure. Cosgrove remembered his first sighting of the Don, when his father patted him on the back and said in a hushed tone: "Son, that's the Don." It's not so much the piece of information as it is the manner of utterance that adds to the aura. Cosgrove went on to describe the nerve-tingling moments he had experienced as a cricket fan - including the final day of the 1960-61 series against the West Indies at the MCG - and admitted he hadn't seen a day more celebratory.

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	Shaun Tait: 170 kph on the way? © Getty Images

The first thing I see walking into the WACA is the John Inverarity stand. Now that's a name one cannot forget, only because of him being involved in one of the most bizarre near-dismissals of all time. After being clean bowled for a duck by Greg Chappell - the ball deviating in mid-air - he was recalled to bat by umpire Colin Egar who signalled dead-ball. The reason? The ball had deflected off a sparrow.

Quote of the day: If you wanted to know the exact level of hype that's going around this little boy called Shaun Tait, you needed to listen to Dennis Lillee at the WACA today. "Tait, on a good day putting it all together, it would not surprise me if he does bowl that 105mph/170kph ball."

Newspaper of the day: The main newspaper in Perth is the West Australian. It's a paper that you really don't see in the other cities. It's also a paper that doesn't put much of its major content online. So you see journalists from the paper but can't read what they write until you land in this state. So I make a promise to read only this paper for the next seven days. Soon I realise I have little choice. Just like you can't get the West Australian in other states, you can't get other papers here.

Number of the day: The Indian team finish their batting practise around 3:50. They then make their way towards the main field for some slip-catching practice. It's a surprise that the clock towers in Perth don't strike at 3:55. It's after all the number famous here: Rod Marsh and Lillee snared 355 victims apiece.

Lesson for the day: The Fremantle Doctor, a wind that blows across the WACA in Perth, is called so because it originates in Fremantle and also because of its healing properties. Healing? Ask those batsmen who are facing up to bowlers running in with the wind. More like howling.

	During a drinks break in the Ashes Test in Perth in 1991, Geoff Marsh calmly took his bat and placed it inside one of the cracks in the pitch © Getty Images

We have an evening flight to Perth and decide to visit the Parliament house in Canberra. It's a wonderfully-designed building and our guide, Maria, makes the tour a very interesting one. I have forgotten most of what she said but two interesting things:

1. The clerk who sits in the House of Representatives is responsible for ringing the bells during a division of the house. In front of the clerk are three hour glasses. The outer glasses last for four minutes and the middle glass runs for two. Four minutes after a vote is called for, the bells will ring, the clocks will flash green, and the house's attendants will lock the doors and the votes will be counted. Now how did they settle on this time? How did they know it was enough time for someone to get from the farthest spot? They sent an old man to the terrace of the House and timed him as he walked from there into the main room. They found he managed to cover the distance within four minutes and set the time then and there.

2. The kangaroo and the emu are engraved on the Australian coat of arms. The reason? They are the only two native animals that don't take a backward step.

**

Now to Perth. There are a few things young kids playing in the backyard want to see themselves as. Seamers at Headingley, spinners in Mumbai and fast bowlers in Perth. Several memories remain but the one I will never forget. It was the Ashes Test of 1991. Craig McDermott had bounced out eight English wickets on the first day and set it all up for an Australian win. Geoff Marsh walked in to bat with Australia chasing 120 to win and remained unbeaten on 63 when the victory came. But during a drinks break in that innings, he calmly took his bat and placed it inside one of the cracks in the WACA pitch, had a drink or two and came back. The sight of that bat, keeping its upright position without any support, was one of the moments to savour.

	Sourav Ganguly and Sachin Tendulkar are the two from the 1991 tour still playing. What future awaits them? © AFP

The history of India at the Manuka Oval has some nice touches. The first time an Indians side played here was in 1947, when Probir Sen, the wicketkeeper from Kolkata, top-scored in the first innings. Probir is forever associated with a story of conceding just four byes when in an innings when India conceded 575 in Melbourne. He was later to jokingly remark: “But only four balls reached me”. Also in that team was Gogumal Kishenchand, popularly recalled for being the bowler off whom Don Bradman scored his 100th first-class century.

India’s touring side also played here in 1981. Opening the bowling for India was Yograj Singh and Kapil Dev: one a promising bowler whose career fizzled out, the other a raw quick who went on to achieve greatness. Yograj, by the way, managed nine runs in the game, seven more than what his son (Yuvraj) managed in the first innings here.

The 1991 side is interesting. Nine members of the side have moved on. It involved on to-be television expert (Kris Srikkanth), three potential coaches (Manoj Prabhakar, Pravin Amre and Chandrakant Pandit), two future selectors (Dilip Vengsarkar and Venkatapathy Raju), two prospective commentators (Sanjay Manjrekar and Ravi Shastri), one potential match referee (Javagal Srinath). Sachin Tendulkar and Sourav Ganguly were the other two members. What fate awaits? My guess: one a cricketing ambassador, the other a television expert.

**

The etymology of the ground name is an interesting one. Until the first World War in 1914 there was still hope that New Zealand would join the confederation of Australia. The thoroughfare running from the site of the future Parliament House was named Wellington Avenue and it was decided to give a Kiwi name to the shopping centre and park planned on the other side.

The tree ‘leptospermum scoparium’, a native of New Zealand, was particularly popular in these parts of Canberra and so the Maori name for the tree, Manuka, was the chosen name. It was only fitting that the first ball of this game was delivered by Richard Sherlock, a medium-pacer born in Palmerston North, New Zealand. Sherlock has represented New Zealand Under-19s and New Zealand A, apart from playing two seasons for Central Districts and Canterbury.

	No sledging please, we are a small state © AFP

The day begins with the news about Ricky Ponting's parents being forced to change their home telephone number after receiving abusive and threatening calls. What a fine mess we've gotten ourselves into. A photo of Ponting has made most front pages for the last few days, all showing him in a glum state. Some captains just can't enjoy their 16th consecutive Test win. We soon get another bit of news: India planned to wear black armbands for the warm-up game in Canberra. We reach the Manuka Oval and see nothing. Maybe they were wearing white armbands, well camouflaged over their sparkling flannels.

The press box at the Manuka is square of the wicket. The problem is it's at the same height as the stands. So all we can see is people's backsides. Luckily there's a television, which means while we are a few feet from the action, we are watching it on TV. It's a sleepy day. Only a smattering of spectators land up. Photos show packed audiences watching Prime Ministers' XI taking on visiting sides down the years but a picture of this game is unlikely to be framed indoors.

Some time around the afternoon Harbhajan Singh walks out to the middle and lasts exactly three deliveries. Apparently there were some boos around the ground but most of us didn't hear much. Neither did Rahul Dravid, neither did Mark Higgs, the ACT Invitational XI captain. Did Higgs and his team decide they wouldn't sledge during the game? "I don't think we're generally big sledgers," he smiles. "We are a small state and it's hard for us to push that envelope." What are you alleging Higgsy? Is sledging directly related to success rate? Evil thought.

Dravid is asked if he thinks he's ensured his spot for the next Test. "I hope so," he says before breaking into a cheeky smile. Evil thought.

	Readers have written in criticising Ricky Ponting © Herald Sun

The response in Australia has been overwhelming. So much so that India, for the last two days, have appeared to be the home side. Several editorials, columnists and television experts have come out strongly against Ricky Ponting and his side but the really poignant messages have been in the 'Letters to the Editor' section. Matt Webber, writing in from Currumbin Waters in Queensland, says: "I have been at the SCG every day of every Test match for the past 16 years. On previous occasions I always left the ground with a rich array of emotions. On Sunday I left with only a feeling of dismay. Ponting has failed the game and failed his country."

Megan Brock from Summer Hill preferred wry humour: "During the Test, patrons were encouraged to vote on backyard cricket rules for a sponsor's event heavily promoted by Michael Clarke. Perhaps Clarke was applying the "you can't get out first ball" rule when he waited for the umpire's decision."

And Ken Knight from Hornsby wrote: "Ricky Ponting failed to acknowledge the tremendous fighting effort of the visiting team in his post-match interview. Instead he preferred to yahoo and fist-pump like the kind of ugly parent whose buffoonery and yobbishness sees them regularly banned from children's weekend sporting fixtures."

Peter Roebuck's fiery column, which was the lead story in the Sydney Morning Herald, ended with: "It is possible to love a country and not its cricket team." The reaction in the last 24 hours has shown just that.

	Steve Rixon was New South Wales coach when Adam Gilchrist moved to Western Australia © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

Steve Rixon, the former Australian wicketkeeper, remembers the early 1990s well. He was coaching the New South Wales side in the 1992-93 season when Adam Gilchrist made his first-class debut. He was forced to play as a specialist batsman because Phil Emery had the wicketkeeping slot. The side won the Sheffield Shield but Gilchrist struggled to keep his place in the side, playing only three first-class matches in the following season. In 1994 Gilchrist decided to shift across the country, moving to Western Australia.

"Phil Emery was a better keeper at that time," remembers Rixon. "So I picked Adam as a batsman. He didn’t succeed as a plain batsman but that’s life. The best thing that happened to him is that he went to Western Australia. And everyone wanted him to succeed. For me it's not about New South Wales, Western Australia or Queensland. The purpose in life is not just to win Sheffield Shield but to get best players for Australia."

It wasn't easy for Gilchrist. He had to replace Tim Zoehrer, the incumbent, and start all over again. "When Gilly went there it was very hard," says Rixon. "There was a guy called Tim Zoehrer who was already keeping for them. But it didn’t take long for the Western Australia boys to see that this package was a better package than the one sitting in the backyard. I don’t think at that stage, Timmy was going to go much further forward. I don’t think there was really that big a difficulty over the decision. Gilly was knocking the living daylights out of bowlers, and has an appealing factor about him.

Did he regret letting Gilchrist go? "I’ve never had a problem with him. I really like the guy. He had to leave where his family was from but he’s made a new life." And does he think Gilchrist is the best keeper in the country? "When Ian Healy, Rod Marsh and Gilchrist started, they weren’t the best keepers. But the selectors saw something in them that made them a complete package. Right now Gilly is probably not as good a keeper as Brad Haddin. But the overall package he offers means he deserves to be there. I’m not downgrading him one little bit. He’s not in the best keeping form but he is likely to come out and do something extraordinary."

	Rocky Harris and his special cupboard © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

Seventy six year old Rocky Harris sits calmly outside the visitors’ dressing room at the Sydney Cricket Ground. A war veteran, Harris was part of the Malay insurgency from 1952 to 1965 before taking to umpiring in the early 1970s. Since 1995 he has been in charge of the visitors’ dressing room at the SCG and has a special cupboard inside to commemorate the fine performers.

The story of the cupboard, on which he’s etched the hundreds and five-fors at the SCG over the last decade, is fascinating. “In 1999, Mark Harrity, a quick bowler from South Australia, fell for a first-ball duck, walked into the dressing room and kicked the cupboard. A few months later, Andy Bichel got caught down the leg side, came back in and also kicked the cupboard door. So I wrote those two names in the spot where they kicked the cupboard.

“Then an interesting thing happened. On October 26, 2001, Jason Gillespie stood in front of this cupboard and said, ‘Today I’m feeling like a million dollars, time for an eight-for.’ And he went out there and took 8 for 50 in 16.4 overs. He came back, wrote his name on the top of the board and signed it. It was then when I decided to mention all major performances on this board.”

England wicketkeeper Paul Nixon is there too, after giving Glenn McGrath his final international wicket in the country. “Paul walked in and kicked the cupboard too so I put him in there.”

VVS Laxman figures prominently on the board, and every hundred of his is signed, ‘Thank you Rocky’. Harris remembers Laxman on his 1999 visit. “He was padded up to bat when he noticed a sole hanging out of one of his boots. He asked me if something could be done. So I took a tube of adhesive, stuck it together, wound a tape around it, placed it under the massage table and told everyone to sit on it. A few minutes on, he put it on, walked in, and made that 167.”

	John Benaud: 'Richie was one for subtle gestures' © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

The newly unveiled Richie Benaud statue has obviously been crafted by someone with an eye for detail. It’s of a dashing young Benaud with his shirt partly unbuttoned, one hand holding a ball, and the other directing a fielder. Steve Waugh has spoken about the shirt – “It shows his flair and individuality” – but it was the field-setting gesture which a few others enjoyed.

Richie’s brother, John, played three Tests in the early 1970s but was more renowned as a national selector during Australia’s transition phase in the late 1980s and early 1990s. “It’s the left hand which is great to see,” says John. “Richie was one for subtle gestures. You always needed to keep watching him because he could make a gesture anytime.” John goes on to mimic his brother’s signals – stealthily moving his hand behind his back and asking a mid-off to go wider. “You never knew when he could come up with these signals because he believed in subtlety.”

What did John learn most from his brother? “Boys who grow up in the bush usually have a fine temperament,” he says, “and Richie symbolised that. We learnt a lot while growing up – through fires, droughts and other hardships – and benefited from that experience later in life.”

	Australian fans are torn between wanting their side to win and wanting a close contest © Getty Images

Australian fans are finding this series a strange one to watch. They obviously support the home team but they’re also yearning for competition. They’re seeing themselves swaying gently: backing the home team but hoping for a contest.

The crowd response today was typical. Every four struck by VVS Laxman was met with gasps, every four from Rahul Dravid with warm applause. Close to 30,000 people urged Dravid to get a move on, when he found himself stuck on 18, and accorded a raucous cheer when he pushed a single.

Both Dravid and Laxman had chances. The ‘ohs’ and ‘ahs’ came with mixed emotion. It was almost as if they didn’t want the dismissal but were being told by an inner instinct to goad their side on. It’s tough to pray for a Laxman dismissal when he’s batting so well; not many with a heart would ever wish that.

It was hard to wish against Dravid too. Here was someone struggling with form, someone who had had a glorious run in 2003-04. You must feel for someone who isn’t able to get the ball off the square. He was on 18 for 40 balls, by the end of which the crowd were egging him on fervently. Every leave and block was met with disappointed sighs and every ball was preceded by an eager cheer. It was almost as if he was on 99.

The 19th run was followed by an ecstatic applause and he responded with a sporting lift of the bat. There was an embarrassed smile that accompanied that gesture, one that said, ‘Thanks for understanding the struggle’.

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Umpires, it seems, don’t share this desire for competition. They need to be unbiased, of course, but why is it that the weaker side invariably gets the worse of the decisions? I have no scientific basis for making this statement but have noticed the trend over time.

Or maybe they seem weaker because they can’t make up for the errors. Symonds hurt India, adding more than a 100 after he should have been out. With every run Symonds scores the umpiring error gets magnified. Had Symonds been out for 50, you could guarantee that the Indian board wouldn’t have been too intent on lodging a complaint with the ICC. It’s only because he got so many more that it became a concern in the first place.

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On a related topic veteran journalists and commentators in this country have been having a hard time for a while. It must be tough to write on a victory every day. The adjectives must have run out by now. It’s also a contrast of sorts, after writing on defeat after defeat in the ‘80s they’ve had to do the reverse. It must be similar to West Indian scribes: from celebration in the ‘80s to criticism now. Is it easier to write on defeats or victories? Whisper it if you must, but defeats open up a number of more possibilities.

	Allan Davidson at the SCG © Cricinfo Ltd

Former Australian players love their anecdotes. West Indian legends prefer to talk of matches or other players - at least the ones I encountered - but Australians remember the little stories.

Former allrounder Allan Davidson loves to tell a story. He was in India in the early 1980s and visited his old friend Vijay Manjrekar in Bombay. He is halfway through the story even before we have introduced ourselves. "And Vijay shows me two boys who are interested in cricket. One was his son, Sanjay, and the other was a little fella called Sachin. The same guy who's wearing a floppy hat today. Yes. And I showed Sachin how to bowl seam up. He ran up with those small steps even then. Good enthusiastic boy."

Rodney Hogg, the former Australian fast bowler, has been at the opening two Tests as a guest speaker. On both occasions he's narrated how he spotted a young Shane Warne. As captain-coach of Waverley-Dandenong in the district competition in 1989, Hogg watched his batsmen hammer the St Kilda bowling attack. Suddenly, with his side 1 for 125, on came a new bowler. Nobody seemed to know the bowlers name, though, not even the scorer. 'We went from 1 for 125 to 8 for 165, and this little fat turd [what we called him] had got four wickets for hardly any."

A year on, as Warne was going to make his Victoria debut, Hogg made a prediction in Truth newspaper. "I wrote an article saying Shane Warne would take 500 wickets." And the Truth couldn't handle the truth. Hogg was sacked. "I got the sack because they thought I was writing a load of crap. Actually the paper was only crap. Maybe they knew I was about 200 wickets short." And Hogg can't stop chuckling.

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When the former Australian prime minister John Howard walked into the dressing room, Andrew Symonds made a habit of asking him for a tax-break. Howard was at the game on the first day but it was Kevin Rudd, the current PM, who walked into the dressing-room. ""It was good to see the PM," Brad Hogg said later. "But I don't know if Andrew got to ask him about the tax break like he did to John Howard."

**

The scorer at the SCG announces the exact time when a batsman gets out. "Brad Hogg was out at 1:56," she said before quickly adding, "The new batsman, walking in at 1:57, is Lee". Stunningly every single Australian batsman is out in the middle the minute after the earlier one leaves. There are unfounded rumours that India plan to utilise the three minutes before walking in. It's all just to rattle the Australians. Sourav Ganguly, who made it a habit of walking out late to the toss in the 2001 series, has been teaching the rest the finer points. Unbelievable.

	Greg Matthews with Anil Kumble at the nets in Sydney © AFP

Greg Matthews was at India’s net session yesterday. He was chatting to Harbhajan Singh about the art of offspin, working on his flight and elbow position. But it was fitting that he was wearing a sweater despite the warm conditions and bowled a few balls with a cap on – that’s exactly how Indian fans remember him from the sensational tied Test in Madras back in 1986.

Matthews’ ten wickets went a long way in the dramatic match but it was his eccentricities that stood out. In scorching, humid conditions that caused Dean Jones to nearly pass out, Matthews bowled with a jumper on all day. The temperature was around 40 °C and the humidity 80% but Matthews’ theory was he would radiate rather than absorb heat. While the rest of his team-mates suffered, he stunned them with both ball and attitude.

It was Matthews who picked up the final wicket of the game, dismissing No.11 Maninder Singh and the famous picture of him jumping in appeal is framed at many grounds around India – the sweater and baggygreen cap prominently displayed.

**

Subroto Banerjee, who played one Test and six ODIs for India in the early 1990s, is here. In fact he’s been in Sydney several years and plays for a local club. Banerjee’s debut was at this very ground, during India’s tour in 1991-92, and remembers the match in which India took the field without a specialist spinner. Banerjee wasn’t the only debutant in that game. A young, rotund, blond legspinner, Shane Warne, took the field for Australia for the first time as well.

	The building where an altercation with a bouncer led to David Hookes' death © Cricinfo Ltd.

Opposite Melbourne's St Kilda beach, in a lane corner, with a departmental store on one side and a compact residence at the other is a prosaic two-storied building that is shut from all sides. Its grey tinge gives it a nondescript feel. It's a sort of building that might never meet your eye.

On the night of January 18, 2004, it was this building, formerly the Beaconsfield Hotel, that was the site of a tragic incident. David Hookes, the popular former Australia batsman, was celebrating Victoria's win over South Australia in a one-day game. There was little to celebrate after midnight: Hookes got into an altercation with a bouncer, fell to the ground, hit his head in the process, and went into cardiac arrest. He never recovered and was proclaimed dead the following day.

The incident was followed up extensively but story of the hotel is an interesting one. Once a hub for backpackers, Beaconsfield, built as early at 1880, was under siege in the months that followed. The next 12 months saw business drop away, staff spat upon and hotel windows riddled with bullets by Hookes' fans. It closed down on Christmas Eve of that year, leaving a whole bunch of regulars with nowhere to go.

"I used to stay a few blocks from the hotel," says Tas James, a local who stops to chat as he passes it by. "This was my watering hole. I used to come here every second day. But now you can see the bullet marks on the doors and walls. They just used to come outside and fire. I've heard they're going to convert this into an apartment soon."

The Greek lady in the adjacent departmental store isn't too keen to open up. Neither is the man who owns the house at the other end. But most in the neighbourhood seem to identify with the hotel, and regret its closure. I'm glad we came now. A few months on and the last remnants of the Hookes incident would have been erased for ever. At least we got to see the bullet marks.

	Ponny, the run-making machine © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

In case you took Don Bradman out of the equation, who would be the greatest batsman cricket has known? One walk into the MCG and you can’t miss the veneration accorded to Bill Ponsford, a phenomenal run-making machine in his own right.

The statue of Ponsford outside Gate 1 captures the man: he’s finished with the shot, bat in one hand and taking off for the run. It’s almost as if the sculptor is saying: there was never a doubt he could score, let’s show everyone what came after.

‘Ponny’ burst onto the Test arena with a century on debut and finished in an even more sensational manner, ending with 181 and 266 in his farewell. Nobody has managed two first-class quadruple centuries and nobody before him had amassed 1000 runs in a domestic season. One of his streaks of five innings produced a phenomenal 1146 runs. Here was Australia’s original don.

At the MCG for the first two days of the Test was Megan, his grand-daughter. She beams when asked about the Ponsford stand, full of pride at having known the “gentle” man who it’s named after. “He was so quiet,” she says looking into the horizon, “never one to talk about his achievements. In fact he didn’t talk much cricket at all.

“A lot of his contemporaries used to talk about how good he was but the current generation had hardly heard of him. In fact, it was only after the statue came up [in 2005] that a lot of people asked me, ‘Are you related to this guy? You share his surname.’ So that way the stand and the statue has revived his memory.”

Megan, who is currently working on a documentary on the first Australian side to tour India [in 1935], is big on cricket history. “I am particularly interested in the social stories connected to cricket and the 1935 tour makes such a fascinating study.”

	The 100,000th run was scored at the MCG on the fourth day of the first Test between Australia and India © Getty Images

Walk in the committee room in the Melbourne Cricket Ground and you see some wonderful photographs that tell you about the evolution of the ground. There's a picture of an Ashes Test in 1894 with the newly constructed upper decks. You can see trees lining the ground and a number of spectators standing to get a glimpse of the action. Close by is a shot from the 1911-12 Test by when the tree-count had reduced with the big scoreboard and dome-like constructions taking over.

There's a picture recalling the Prince of Wales' 1920 visit, accompanied by celebration and fanfare. The snapshot of the 1937 Ashes Test shows rows and rows of flags lining the ground, apart from a number of loudspeakers, indicating the popularity of public-address systems in cricket grounds at the time.

Cricket is only a part of the MCG's history, of course. It's also hosted some memorable football contests (the Aussie Rules kind) with Essendon and Collingwood (fierce rivals in the local leagues) playing in front of packed audiences. And there's also a concert, the one by the Three Tenors in 1997. Paul Sheahan, the former Australian batsman, pointed out an interesting stat: the 100,000th run run at the ground was scored today. "It's not difficult to know which ground has more," he said referring to Lord's. "That's the second best ground in the world."

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	Jim Higgs missed out on a half-century after Doug Walters got out when Higgs was on six © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

Jim Higgs was a popular Australian cricketer in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s. He tasted some success as a legspinner before being part of an important selection panel in the late ‘80s and ‘90s. He was also credited with teaching Shane Warne to bowl the flipper. What most people remember, though, is Higgs’ antics with the bat; he was one of the most notorious No.11 of all time. He finished with an average of 5.55 and only three times did he manage double figures.

Rewind 27 years, to an Australia v New Zealand Test on this ground, and you have one of Higgs’ most memorable stints. Australia were struggling at 261 for 9 with Doug Walters fast running out of partners. “I think Doug was on 70-odd when I walked in on what was a really difficult pitch to bat on. There wasn’t much bounce but a lot of shooters, the kind that go all along the ground.

“So I walked in and played some French cricket. Just stood back, put my bat in front of my pads and hoped the ball wouldn’t go past.” The innings wasn’t without controversy. Lance Cairns got a rare one to lift and was confident Higgs had gloved one to the wicketkeeper. “Umpires Bailhache thought it hit the elbow and also warned Lance for intimidatory bowling. I felt it was a marginal call. I wouldn’t have minded if it was out but the rule at the time prevented bouncers at tailenders. So I stood my ground. And it helped Dougie. He soon got his hundred.”

But Higgsy, chuckling all along, just won’t forgive what happened next. “I was on 6 off 61 balls, had stood there and then he got out. How selfish is that. I supported him till he got his hundred and he didn’t wait till I got my fifty. How rude. I ended by Test career with an average of 5.5. It could have been much more had Dougie stood around.” More chuckles.

	Dean Jones was one of the first Australians to sport sunglasses on a cricket field © Cricinfo Ltd

If you want to hear something interesting, try and find Dean Jones. We know about him sweating and vomiting during his epic double-hundred in Madras in 1986 but there’s more to Deano apart from gritty centuries and the odd commentary gaffe.

Did you know Jones was one of the first Australian cricketers to wear sunglasses? “I first wore it in 1988,” Jones said. “I had been playing with them a little bit. I remember Allan Border said, ‘practise with them before using them’.”

In those days cricketers had to buy their own shades. “I remember wearing an Oakley but I wasn’t endorsing them. I wore it first in Perth where there was a good wind, blue skies, and a white ball and AB said, ‘Make sure you catch the first one. Otherwise you’re in trouble.’

“And I did catch the first one, then I took a specy [spectacular catch] diving on the boundary, then I copped one on the boundary and took two more. And I saw all the fielders wearing sunglasses. I didn’t really understand marketing then but when I went back home, I saw a group of kids playing with sunglasses. It zapped me a bit.”

There was one more first for Deano - “I was one of the first to wear an extra sweatband on the gloves” – and one each for Ian Healy and Steve Waugh too. “Healy got special fibre glass put in the bottom of his wicketkeeping gloves and Steve used bats with oval-shaped handles at the bottom of the grip. It helped for your hands to fit in, unlike the normal cylinder type equipment.”

	What are they all doing here when there are bargains to be plundered? © Getty Images

It’s Boxing Day. Let’s rush to the department stores. Let’s bargain our way to glory. Walk into many outlets and you’re likely to see impressive items going for a song. Queues and more queues, right from 6am in the morning. Reports suggest that about 8000 passed through the doors of the Chadstone shopping centre in Melbourne's east at 7am. Estimates suggest around 250 million dollars will be spent today. And to think 68,465 people spent their day at the MCG.

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Watching Matthew Hayden and Phil Jaques is great but it’s even more fun chatting with Australians. This writer has been shocked ever since setting foot in Australia. Hadn’t this been the country that intimidated visitors? The land where foreign teams were given a hostile reception? A few Australians have found it strange too but seem to have an explanation. Firstly India aren’t starting their tour in Brisbane, a city where most tours begin and one whose media is given to a fiery approach. Secondly there’s been a change of government. It’s supposed to matter. Thirdly Melbourne is a city with a large Asian community, one that allows teams from the subcontinent to adapt quickly. And to add to it, Damien Fleming, the former Australian and Victorian swing bowler, thought it was an “Indian” pitch. Merry Christmas.

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It’s always interesting to observe the crowd on the first day of the series. Lahore in 2006 was loud, Antigua was more carnival, and Lord’s, earlier this year, was as quiet as a church. Melbourne was tough to describe but vibrant is probably the word. There was fancy dress, beer (lots of it) and sunshine. There were Mexican waves (which are actually banned), streakers (banned again) and lots of cheering for the visiting side (not banned but strange). Many, it seems, came here craving for a contest and went back in good cheer. Neville Cardus is supposed to have hoped for Victor Trumper doing well in an Australian defeat. Many in the crowd might have had a similar sentiment here.

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	Merv Hughes takes part in a promotional event for alcohol control © Cricinfo Ltd

Imagine crossing hemispheres, gaining five-and-a-half hours and landing in a city with exactly the same weather as the one you've taken off from. It produces a strange sort of jet-lag. You've moved but it feels you really haven't. Melbourne's sister cities include Osaka, Tianjin, Milan, Boston and St Petersburg but somebody needs to add Bangalore to that list.

It's winter in one city and (supposedly) summer in the other. It was raining when I boarded and raining when I landed: that same windy, chilly, pitter-patter. Occasionally the sun would come out and suddenly you sweated under the jacket. Hardly had you tucked it into your bag than the wind started to sting. A home away from home. And that's where the similarity ends.

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Lesson No. 1 at the MCG: Cricket Australia has banned Mexican waves (this was earlier this year). It's nothing personal against the central American country. Instead it has been prompted by the mugs and detritus that get thrown up every time a wave happens. One of those objects was apparently a hard tray that smashed into a kid's head. And that was that.

Lesson No. 2: Big Merv Hughes is standing near a statue of Dennis Lillee and posing for photographs. It's not about his moustache but a Cricket Australia promotion for alcohol control. "We all enjoy our beer," said a big poster, "just not one an over."

Big Merv is also a selector, incidentally. He was standing at the nets today and watching Shaun Tait steaming in and smashing them into Ricky Ponting's bat. Nice choice of batsman to bowl to. They were short, full and some ripped off a good length. He was possessed, as if there was no tomorrow. Thank god there is. It's Christmas, Shaun.

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Slip of the day: Rahul Dravid, speaking to the media, congratulating Sourav Ganguly on his hundred Tests: "A hundred years is a fine achievement by any standards." Oh yes, it is.

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Chatting with a good friend here, we discuss club cricket in Australia. "Can you believe I gave up bowling after I came here?" he said. Of course I couldn't. He was a decent bowler and why should anyone give up bowling of all things. Smoking maybe, but bowling? "I bowled a wide at nets once and was expected to do ten push-ups." What if you didn't? "It's just a done thing," he said, "nobody tells you to do it but everyone knows it has to be done. If I didn't my name wouldn't be on the team list from next time."