Even when Scotland took the final wicket to beat UAE, not only did we not know who had qualified for the 2011 World Cup, but we weren’t sure which six teams had ODI status. Such is the nature of cricket, and the really rather ridiculous reliance on Net Run-Rates (or NRR for acronym anoraks), but it provoked silly scenes on the outfield. Scotland were warming down and Pete Steindl, their coach, was half-chatting and half looking in my direction. We’d agreed on a post-match interview. But there was little point in chatting until I knew whether to grill him a) on Scotland losing their status as an international country, b) on his joy of Scotland reaching the World Cup in the most unlikely of circumstances or c) on his relief, and luck, at not making the World Cup but still retaining their status.

It’s high time one of Cricinfo’s unheralded members receives a worthy plug. Robin Abrahams (aka The Oracle) has worked for us since the dawn of time, when Yahoo! were king of the interwebs, John Major was in office and the term credit crunch hadn’t been invented. Without Robin, Cricinfo would probably not exist. In fact, he hasn’t slept since the mid 1990s – too busy ensuring our tables are up to date, scorers have internet access, and a myriad of other vital things besides. So I called the Abrahams Hotline who immediately had the details. And the details of the details. And the reasons behind the details. And something about a flag? Just in the nick of time, the cheery Steindl loped over as I hung up, and the first question? “Well, Pete, a good win today – and you’re into the top six I hear. You must be relieved.” Almost as relieved as I was. Thanks Robin.

With my dogged persistence, and his generosity – not to mention the miracle of hands-free mobiles – I interviewed Francois Pienaar a few days ago (here, at our sister site, Scrum.com). I couldn’t ignore the opportunity to talk about the IPL. Our chat was brief, but his passion for South Africa and all it stands for remains undiminished, 14 years after he stood on the podium to receive the rugby World Cup from Nelson Mandela. It’s one of those sporting images tattooed on your skull and difficult to forget. Tyson and Bruno is another of mine. Gascoigne in tears. Flintoff and Lee. Tyson eating ears…

But anyway. IPL. I wanted to find out from Pienaar his thoughts on South Africa’s infrastructure, given that all of a sudden it is the go-to country to host world-class sporting events. “The IPL has been a journey and a half,” he said. “To put this tournament in place in 20 days flat has been inspirational, to be honest.”

Colleagues and residents of Johannesburg have shown a little less enthusiasm, in particular at the road networks. Yes, they’re being modernised, widened, and coating a layer of western tarmac over the top of the concrete (which doesn’t split as easily in the heat, I’m told), but there is so much to be done. Recently, the Australia (cricket) team were politely mobbed (oxymoron spotters, pat yourselves on the back) at an airport, so lax was the security. I naively enquired about the train infrastructure to a taxi driver when I first arrived. “You’d be dead man, dead,” was the chilling response. There is a train for tourists with tourist-like prices, but suffice to say that it’ll be cars and planes which transport people over the next few weeks.

What will it be like in 2010 for the (football) World Cup, though?

Well, judging by the successful events they have hosted in the past – 1995 rugby World Cup, 2003 cricket World Cup and the inaugural World Twenty20 in 2007 – the answer is: it’ll be fine. It’ll probably be better than fine, to witness the steady progress of all the new stadia being built. As Telford Vice wrote a few days ago for Cricinfo, “neither airlines, hotels nor the cricket industry seemed flustered by the prospect of the gathering storm of glitz, glamour and glorious cricket.”

Pienaar, too, acknowledged the country’s sticky issues and congested roads but, like Telford, he just expects it to happen. And after three weeks here, I do too. “The country has a can-do mentality. We are a nation who holds up its hands and gets things done.”

Scottish cricket isn’t as feverishly followed as Scottish football – understandably so, perhaps, given Scotland’s listless performances in the World Cup Qualifiers – but of all the media groups, you’d think BBC Scotland might be interested in covering them. That’ll be a no, then. BBC Persia, however, are keen, whose cameraman has been following Afghanistan’s progress throughout the tournament. Having spent the morning in the sun under a black floppy hat, sweating profusely, BBC Persia’s lensman eagerly looked forward to a slap-up lunch. Unfortunately, he was pointed to the wrong place; by the time he found the press box, your loyal reporter and his colleagues had devoured most of the (exceptional) chicken, rice, salad, fish and ice cream much to his f-bombing chagrin.

	The desire and hunger just hasn’t been there for Bermuda © Gallo Images

It has been fascinating hearing from other teams, players and coaches about Bermuda’s stumble-and-fall from this competition and, without exception, not a single one of them has any sympathy. In fact, their responses have often been a mixture of envy and anger – anger that a team of handsomely-paid full professionals could consistently perform so poorly while they (be it Ireland, Namibia, UAE) all struggle on a pittance and yet outperform their higher-paid opponents. It’s unjust, but sport is often so. Scotland have begun professionalisation (they have three contracted players and promise to double that number should they qualify) while Ireland are also hamstrung financially and only possess semi-pros.

As an indicator to Bermuda’s apathy, one coach told me he saw many of their players either in the bar or, on the first night of their trip, in the local casino. Not the ideal preparation to qualify for the World Cup Qualifiers (WCQs), you might think, and you’d be spot on too. As Gus Logie told Cricinfo a few days ago, the desire and hunger just hasn’t been there. It’s all been a bit of a jolly for the past four years.

A couple of opposing players today sat mystified with Logie’s news that some Bermudans would rather play club cricket than toil with the honour of internationals. They shook their heads dismissively, one of them adding: “You look at their squad…you look at the team, and there’s just nothing much there really. No good players are coming through.” Their best player? Probably Dwayne Leverock. He may be famously large, but is considered their best bowler by opposing batsmen (and he’s a former hurdles champion, by the way).

It is a lesson, though, and not just for Associate cricket but for the ICC. Huge sums of investment (Bermuda received US$11m from its government) simply cannot buy success. Or, it seems, desire. The ICC, of course, are well aware that they can only do so much, as Richard Done told me last week. But the more time I spend with these players, the clearer it becomes that, Bermuda aside, the desire and hunger is absolutely rampant among them. The four who qualify for the 2011 World Cup will have a potentially winning combination of belief and money, and Bermuda’s four-year listlessness will look even more shameful.

Visiting the Sandton Sun Hotel in Johannesburg is rather like popping in for lunch at a rich relative’s house in the shires. Unless you actually live there, the opulence is almost overwhelmingly in your face. The lifts silently glide up and down a brass-cum-gold framework, like little golden jelly beans. There are no normal light fittings, instead a garish display of brass pipes demands your attention that the café is, in fact, right here, as if you could possibly miss it. There are dozens of staff, all of whom glide through the air looking very busy, yet the moment they spot your cup looking empty they’re onto it in a flash.

It’s a quiet, subdued place to stay and is currently swarming with international cricketers. The Associates were here first, but the Indian Premier League players have started their unerring swagger into the city and the hotel, and soon it will be theirs - if, that is, they can drag the Afghanistan team out of the pool. The battle will be long and hard I fear, and my money is on the Afghans.

It’s a nice place to work, too. A couple of interviews with an Irish and Namibian player happened randomly over coffee outside, a relaxed environment which helps both interviewee and interviewer.

All sorts have been spotted. Owais Shah and Ashish Nehra (remember him?) ambled in for a late brunch, neither of whom were keen on being interviewed – understandably so given your reporter’s Keith Chegwin-esque doorstepping method. Glenn McGrath, in flip-flops and t-shirt, did a spot of shopping in the equally brilliant shopping centre which adjoins the hotel. Dave Warner, Paul Collingwood and other Delhi Davedevils are floating around too, invisibly so far. Red-and-white Europeans, of which I proudly claim membership of its sunburnt fraternity, make up the rest.

Leaving the Sandton Sun Hotel in Johannesburg is rather like leaving after lunch at a rich relative’s house in the shires. Digestion aside, you can’t help feel a little jealous at their pad.

Lighthouse Family, Radiohead, Counting Crows – it’s like being back at school, here at the LC de Villiers Oval, where Namibia are taking on (or trying to) UAE. Radiohead is a particular favourite of the DJ-cum-PA, Anton, who is providing occasional witty (and, indeed, occasionally witty) updates from the other matches taking place, interspersed with some of the 90s classics. “Oman, the great entertainers,” he croons, “were going along nicely. But wickets are falling faster than the rand.” As third man let through a four in front of his coach, Colin Wells, Radiohead’s The Bends roared out from the speakers to entertain the three fans and two journalists. “My baby's got the bends, oh no//We don't have any real friends, no, no, no.” Wells, who is desperate to improve UAE’s fielding, shook his head and walked on in disgust.

Forget the IPL; ignore the piddly little World Cup Qualifiers. Oxfordshire Under-13s are on tour in South Africa, and this is where the action is at. Flippancy aside, there is much to be learned of the differences in attitude between the two countries when you look at the development. And I may even have a possible indicator as to South Africa’s recent resurgence.

The English coach spoke to me today (over bacon and eggs – more on that later) over the contrast in attitude. Oxfordshire’s sprightly (and noisy) group are just about holding their own. The coach is fairly confident that two or three will play for a county; his opposite numbers are also sure that some of their young bucks will represent South Africa. Plenty of ability, then, but the coaching beliefs and attitudes are where the similarities between the two countries end.

When I was 13 (and, for those interested, a rather brilliant legspinner), I didn’t much care what I ate. Twelve roast potatoes was my record at school, yet still I remained bean-pole thin and a relative wizard-with-a-wrong’un. I’m pleased to report that these Oxfordshire Under-13s also share Britons’ craving for an unhealthy breakfast of sausage, bacon, eggs and worse. Their South African counterparts, however, are already at the mercy of dieticians, video-analysers, fitness coaches, physiotherapists and a whole army of personnel dedicated (and no doubt paid handsomely) to enhance their performances.

All fatty foods and carbs are off the agenda because, apparently, the brief sugar highs (remember those?) later cause lethargy in the field. The English coach was in awe of his South African counterpart, a towering behemoth of an Afrikaner who cuts the kids’ fizzy-drink intake and bans all sugar. My surprise quickly turned to outrage. Despite the encouraging results, are these food-fascists going to help these impressionable and ambitious young cricketers develop as people? And is cricket now so business-oriented, so intent on producing identical sportsmen off a conveyer belt of strict regimes and rigid policies, that even the naivety of youth is being curtailed? Er, that’ll be a yes then.

I am probably being naïve myself. Given the intensity of the sport nowadays, fitness is more important than ever. Oxfordshire’s attitude to the tour was as you’d expect; the coach, the players and the parents were all intent on winning and having a good time. But perhaps England’s school-cricket is stuck in the dark ages, peering out at the frighteningly fast-moving vista of professionalisation through double-thick rose-tinted spectacles. If nothing else, it is further evidence that cricket is simply no longer just a game, a form of entertainment or exercise once you begin to take it seriously. It is a business which expects its employees to be in peak condition at all times, regardless of age, and South Africans are taking it very seriously indeed.

I’m glad I grew up when I did, though…

My quest to discover the real age of Afghanistan's cricketers continues apace. An unnamed source close to the team for a number of years told me today that one of their players, who sadly must remain nameless for now, claims to be 25 but is in fact "more like 40. Come on. Look at him. He's been playing forever". Forty might sound unduly harsh, and that's because it is. When challenged, my source relented and we agreed on "anywhere between 35 and 38". The player himself simply has no idea; not even his own mum can tell him, though each year she gives a ballpark figure ranging from 21-29, though perhaps her vagueness smacks of her own disbelief at the unstoppable sands of time, and the years that can't help but condemn.

	Raees shows me how it's done © Will Luke

It isn't often you can chat casually with an international batsman waiting to make his nervous way out to the middle. In fact, for "often", read "never", unless you happen to be another batsman waiting.

After a brief chat with Colin Wells, the former England and Derbyshire allrounder now coaching UAE, Raees Ahmadzai was keen to show me his ridiculously-light bat. I didn't see the makers' name, but it was like a feather. And small, too, for someone of 6ft, but it felt perfect in my hands.

So while I shadowed some particularly elegant on-drives, the like of which probably haven't been seen since Mike Atherton last picked up a bat in anger, he stole my camera to take a few snaps. He is not the photographer or journalist he wishes but, clearly, there is untapped talent in my batting.

The UAE and Afghanistan sides are sat almost next to each-other here at Vanderbijlpark, and the cacophonous cries of "shabash" come from both teams and for all eventualities. Be it a wicket, a four, a dropped catch, a comical piece of fielding, a fifty or a hundred, the only plausible response is "shabash" ["come on"].

Shouting it as a neutral and western observer elicits an occasionally unpalatable response of respect and confusion. I am briefly part of the belief and hope. I can't compete with the consistency of noise though. My reserved Englishisms of nodding and applauding politely - seal-clapping is for the IPL or a Lara-esque 400-plus - come deferentially to the fore.

Is it a sign of professionalism gone mad or evidence of mollycoddling taken to a new level? It’s difficult to know how to respond to the news that Ireland’s cricketers are being subjected to breathalyser tests, an Irish journalist learned a few days ago. Even non-alcoholic fizzy drinks have been banned and the coach, Phil Simmons, along with Ireland’s manager, Roy Torrens, have also joined in the non-party. Alcohol is not the most forgiving fluid, admittedly, but even in a coaching era that treats and analyses players like precious Formula 1 cars, this is a surprisingly bold move. It does reflect, however, how importantly Ireland’s coaching staff are taking this tournament; how crucial it is that they’re players perform at their maximum capability. Though surely there is a level of trust involved; I can't imagine most of these players would sink a crate of Castle after each game for the hell of it. Or would they? Their chief executive, Warren Deutrom, was none the wiser about the new policy.

"I didn’t know about it until last week, and it made me smile," he told Cricinfo. "It reminded me a lot of what Adi Birrell calls the one-percenters – those little details that make the difference in preparation. It strikes me as a really clever idea.

"After all, no-one will want to be the one to break it, so everyone will look out for each other, ensure that no-one will let each other down, that they’re all preparing as assiduously as each other, thereby bringing the team closer together."

	Picturesque Potchefstroom © Getty Images

Despite mass warning from locals and hysterical friends back home, I hired a car (a mere £35 for those interested) and ventured my untroubled way to Potchefstroom for Afghanistan’s match against Bermuda today. The venue is already a firm favourite: almost circular, with grassy banks all around the ground and some shaded seating for the hosting of larger matches. It’s a picture, as is the outfield, which is bowling-green flat. The Australians love it here apparently, and it’s easy to see why. Grassy banks just make a cricket ground.

The crowd, well – let’s not mention that. Those found to be clapping were either on the players’ balconies or, even more fervently, Tim Albone and his crew. Albone, 31-year-old film-maker, has been following the Afghanistan team for a couple of years in a documentary he is making called Out of the Ashes, tracking their rise from obscurity to (potentially) the World Cup in 2011. He’s joined by Lucy Martens, the camera person who is constantly glued to a lens of some sort, and Leslie Knott, the producer. All three were only moderately interested in cricket but, now, they’re fairly hooked as their whooping and cheering at each Afghani boundary began to demonstrate.

It is quite a challenge to follow Afghanistan, though all three of the crew are regular travellers to the country. Alongside them today was Dr Sarah Fane who founded the Afghan Connection, a charity that has provided medical assistance to remote Afghani communities. And now, Sarah is involved with the Afghanistan cricket team, building pitches and providing equipment as well as building schools (which now serve more than 26,000 people). The MCC’s Matthew Fleming is in support, and Sarah is clearly committed to helping promote the sport among a population who are used to bowling seam-up with balls made out of cloth and rubber.

Cricket draws all sorts of people and characters together. Afghanistan have a long way to go if they are to even reach the World Cup, but their rapid rise is already beginning to have an impact on their country, not just the sport.

Even Associate cricket needs security, apparently. But is it really necessary for a match that has attracted roughly five fans for there to be four green-jacketed officials to protect the pitch from an invisible invasion? It is searingly hot in the sun today, yet each of them are dutifully stood at each corner of the pitch, eyeing the phantom crowds warily, just in case there's a sudden monsoon of fans flooding onto the pitch.

At least it's not raining.

There may not be any advertising or signs promoting the forthcoming Indian Premier League but, like an impending lunch with inlaws, it looms large in the back of your conscience. Here in Benoni, where Ireland are taking on Scotland in the World Cup Qualifiers, the crowd can generously be described as a smattering. Less complimentary an adjective might be paltry, for there are only 40 people on a glorious sunny day. In contrast my spies tell me there are already hordes of media, BCCI officials and IPL administrators loitering around one of Johannesburg’s more opulent hotels.

Those permitted accreditation for the IPL would comfortably outnumber the loyal Ireland and Scotland fans here at Willowmore Park. It was ever thus for Associate cricket; crowd-numbers are never enormous and it struggles to gain global coverage, though the local media from the representing countries are always in attendance and do their best to promote the game back home. Still, it remains a disappointment that a tournament as prestigious as this – and it is, for the development of cricket – is about to be dwarfed in publicity by an event whose Man-of-the-Match cheques alone could transform some of these countries’ facilities and ambition.

My half Welsh blood came rushing to the surface this morning. On my way to Willowmore Park in Benoni to cover Ireland and Scotland's first match of the tournament, we happened to drive down Tom Jones Street. Could it really be? Was Tom here? If not now, then at one point? My Serbian taxi driver, demonstrating a surprisingly broad tonal range, broke out into a ropey but guttural version of Sex Bomb, showing little or no respect for Jones's greatest hit, It's Not Unusual. A Serbian-born South African, who is borderline tone-deaf, singing a song from the Pontypridd preener? It was undoubtedly unusual.