The Surfer

Barnes was considered more prankster than gangster. He took action against a reader, Jacob Raith, who wrote to a newspaper the board was correct not to have selected Barnes because of his character. Barnes took the author to court but his battle wasn't with Raith - Barnes' lawyer made it clear to the judge his client didn't want financial gain - it was with the board, and thanks to the letter, its officials were forced to stand in the dock and explain why Barnes wasn't picked. When it was publicly acknowledged that pettiness, gossip and rumour had formed their judgment of Barnes, the cricketer claimed vindication.

He has joined the 200 club - of whom there are now 13 - has 10 test hundreds, and only three men made more, a list topped by his mentor Crowe. He has years to run and in time may overhaul Crowe, and Stephen Fleming's test run tally for that matter. When/if that happens, this subject will doubtless get another extensive airing. But it is too simplistic to say the batsman with the best average is, ergo, the best batsman. On that basis, Taylor is New Zealand's best test batsman of all. He may finish with that mantle, but not yet.

"Development" has become synonymous with "destruction" in conversations about heritage in recent years. But there is an opportunity to harmonise heritage and development, and AOSMA has demonstrated this successfully. As well as retaining the heritage features of the Oval, AOSMA has managed to create a state-of-the-art sporting and entertainment venue that will allow South Australia to attract major international events and, in effect, boost the state's economy.

This overt aggression - lost for a time under the previous technocratic, high-performance management regime of player rotation and self-reflective player homework - had returned in all its animalistic hirsuteness. It found expression not just in Johnson's bouncers and death stares and in the clubbed sixes of David Warner, but in the vigorous sledging for which Australia had been previously renowned.

In the last part of Australia's tour of England, and throughout the prelude here, Australia talked constantly and darkly of how different it would be in Australia, "in our conditions". So it has proved. Siddle's field when bowling to Anderson on Monday consisted of four slips, short cover, short leg, leg slip, leg gully and forward square leg. It may not have been seen at the Adelaide Oval since Bodyline.

And yet, for all that a team is working as a unit and talks up the "bowling in partnerships" line, there comes a point where the supporting cast begin to feel like second stringers. Michael Clarke repeatedly went out of his way at his post-match press conference to praise Siddle, Harris and Lyon for helping the man of the match sitting next to him, Johnson, take his wickets. Those other three would be lying if they didn't hope that Johnson might help them take a few of theirs.

Mandela understood that everyone had a role to play in rebuilding the nation. He also knew that the pressure on the team was intense. South Africans expected our national sporting teams to dominate as they had prior to isolation. Never mind the lack of international competition for 21 years. They wanted success. Immediately. "Sport has the power to unite and you will achieve that by doing the best you can and fighting hard," he said. "I am proud of you."

Yet it is too simple to dwell on Johnson's powers of intimidation. Englishman RC Robertson-Glasgow once wrote of Don Bradman: "Poetry and murder lived in him together." All seven Johnson wickets here were from full-pitched balls. Four were bowled, two caught behind the wicket and one was lbw, the first and only of the series. He did not spare the bouncer, but the threat of it did more damage than the actuality.

But there is also the fact that he seems such a thoroughly good bloke. Perhaps not when he's at the top of his run with the ball in his hand, or snarling at Jimmy Anderson after dismissing him for a golden duck. But Johnson was affable, engaging company as he waited for a couple of coffees at the stall behind the Sir Donald Bradman Stand after Australia's net session on Wednesday morning. The express bowler really did order a double espresso, honest, and didn't blink an eye when the teenage girl behind the counter, surely one of the few who has remained unaware of the most recognisable moustache in the land, asked what name she should shout out when it was ready.

So while Test cricket may be a slow game to watch, in a sporting context things can change, and fast. England came to Australia on the back of three straight Ashes series wins, looking for a fourth, a record in the modern era. That should have been the clue. Records stand for a reason.

The range of helmets, called Shrey, gets its name from Shrey Kohli, the youngest member of the TK Sports family business. On November 17 last year, an enthusiastic Shrey got on the road from Jalandhar to Kanpur, intending to deliver a batch of equipment personally to Suresh Raina and some other Uttar Pradesh players. He would never make it as he was killed in a car crash, at just 21, when his life in cricket was just beginning.

It was a cheap shot, immature and insensitive, and if Cricket Australia and some local boneheads cannot see this, it merely proves there is more to multi-cultural integration than having a token Aborigine speak a few wise words before the first day of each Test match. This is not about gestures, but attitudes - just as it was when white Spanish motor racing fans greeted Lewis Hamilton with black faces and curly wigs.

A further consequence of a selection like this is that it spices up the dynamics of the touring party, which may well be beneficial. England may have a rough idea of their personnel for Perth. But there is no certainty anymore. Now even senior players are put on their mettle.