The Surfer

Timing was my strength. Yuvraj does time the ball well; doesn’t over-hit it. He has strokes on both sides of the wicket, so did I. And, he is a good player of the bad ball as was I. To be a good player of the bad ball is very important, that is when you will hurt the bowler the most.

Andrew Flintoff is the Northern Rock of cricket. A once-powerful brand built from humble and parochial beginnings, now undermined by questionable management strategy with his stock currently in freefall and his future uncertain.

For the last couple of winters Montogmerie has been studying for an Open University PGCE qualification and the circumstances in question are "two or three" offers to teach chemistry next year. It is hardly surprising - the prospect of a scientist and a cricket coach rolled into one must be irresistible for potential employers.

Globalisation and the transfer of momentum into the emerging liberalised economies of the colonies is changing the nature of cricket now. From being a sport that was used to buttress nationalism, it is now taking the American professional route, a market-oriented one.

The other cry in the wake of South Africa's demise is: Where was Jacques Kallis when needed. Not selected in the squad... and in hindsight perhaps this was a mistake. The people are impatient for success. Yet remember that two of Saturday's semifinalists, India and Pakistan, did not make it past the first round of the 2007 World Cup.

There is some phenomenal ball-striking taking place, the size of some of the boundaries notwithstanding. Before Yuvraj Singh's outrageous six sixes in an over off Stuart Broad yesterday, the longest hits so far, presumably measured by laser, have been belted by Pakistan's Misbah ul-Haq off Australia's Nathan Bracken, stunning 111-metre front foot drives both. These, and many of the numerous maximums hit this past week or so, have been the result of perfect striking and supreme confidence; six anywhere, anytime. The bats don't half help, though; these disposable lightweight lumps of willow, all volume and no density. It is these characteristics that still bother me.

As the Pakistanis rattled along, Adam Gilchrist must have wished he had Brad Hogg's more potent brew at his disposal. Arguably, Hogg's batting was also missed as the tailenders swished away like a drunken headmaster. Not that it was easy for the Australians to change a team that has been serving them well. Nevertheless, spin has been to the foremost in this Twenty20. As with the film industry, it is often written off but refuses to die. Not for the first time, Daniel Vettori has been as dangerous as any paceman.

It appears to be not so much a speeded-up, watered-down version of cricket, a sort of cricket-lite for dummies who are incapable of comprehending the complexities and subtleties of the greatest game in the world, but an utter impostor. It has whittled away at cricket’s essence; it has snuffed out its soul; it is unrecognisable as the game I adore.

Twenty20 is exciting because it is condensed. It is the natural heir to the 40-over cricket that quickly established itself in the late Sixties as the "new black" – hip, fast, accessible and satisfying. Previously unseen audiences were as seduced then as they are now. Forty years on, it is obvious to everyone except the people who run the game in England day-to-day, that the 40-over format is a white elephant. In fact, it is more dangerous than that. It is an energy sapper, an injury-sucker and a diversion from the accepted formats that are played everywhere else in the world.