The (almost)unforgettable series.

Australia remembers watching the last Ashes series like it was yesterday. We remember Ricky Ponting bleeding on the Lord's pitch, Dizzy Gillespie's plummet from grace, Flintoff's domination of Gilchrist, the tireless efforts of Shane Warne, and the unending arrogance of Pietersen.

Today, June the 1st, at 9am, Australia showed just how much we all remembered, when tickets for the Ashes went on sale to Australian Cricket Family members. Well, almost all of us...

It's all a little blurry, but I think it went something like this; I woke up at 8am this morning to the sound of the alarm clock. Nothing unusual there, my girlfriend usually rises for work at this time, leaving me to contemplate leaving the warmth of the bed briefly before succumbing to the lure of slumber. June in Australia is cold, by our standards, and the idea of leaping forth to seize the day seemed at best comical. "Well," I thought. "What would Boony do...?"

My eyes snapped open. Ashes ticket go on sale today! I jumped out of bed, expecting to see water on the boil for tea, but found the house empty.. Crap, what time was it?? I must have fallen back asleep! Running to my computer, I flicked on the monitor to find- double crap - it was 9:20am, tickets went on sale 20 minutes ago! I tried to stay calm as I loaded the website to buy tickets. "How many people could find time from work to register for the presale, and get here in the first 20 minutes," I wondered. The website failed to load, instead informing me "Due to a major event going on sale, the website is currently experiencing high demand... We apologise for the delay". Rapidly losing my cool, I hit the refresh button. Nothing. The magical talking miniature David Boon on top of my television asked where his thongs were in a a mournful voice. "Tickets first, then thongs, Boony!" I cried, reaching for my phone with one hand, while still refreshing the website with the other. Of course the website would be clogged, thousands of Barmy Army supporters would be trying to log on and purchase tickets through there as well. Surely sanity will prevail over the phone. Engaged tone. Damn it! Redial. Engaged tone. Refresh. Due to a major event going on sale, the website is currently experiencing .. Damn it!

For the next hour and a half, I tried to call and log in to buy tickets, before finally a break through- hold music! Never before in my life had I been so happy to be told I was in queue, a queue that was estimated by the robotic disembodied voice to be at least ten minutes.

When 35 minutes later I got through to an operator, I didn't mind. "She would have been very busy today, try to give the girl a break" I thought. "Hi can I get 4 tickets for day one of the Ashes please?" "I'm sorry sir, but our allocation of tickets for the first 4 days has been exhausted." Silence. How could this be happening?? Where was the justice? How could the reward for my patience be disapontment? My thoughts were broken by Boony asking for nachos. "Not now Boony!" I replied tersely. "Sorry sir?" asked the confused operator. "Nothing, sorry, I was talking to David Boon, not you. Surely there's something you can do for me?" "Sorry sir, at this stage the only tickets left are restricted for sale to Fanatics only." Her words rang in my head for a second. The Fanatics are a group of die-hard sporting fans, dedicated to supporting Australian sporting teams with the feverish enthusiasm usually associated with the Barmy Army. According to the Fanatics site "Fanatics officially began in 1997 with an aim to form an organised, passionate & patriotic support group that would follow Australian Sport at home & around the world", which is certainly one way of putting it. Another would be to describe them as the crazy people with the zinc sunscreen fetish.

"Is there anything else I can help you with sir?" Snapping back to reality, I answered no before quickly hanging up. Turning my attention back to the computer, I searched for the Fanatics website, put on my sunglasses, and entered. After my eyes adjusted to the bright glare of the green & gold, I found the registration area, and joined as fast as my fingers would fly. Maybe there was still time. A confirmation email arrived almost immediately, informing me I was now eligible for any merchandise, tours, and.. Wait.. Tours!!

I refused to get my hopes up as the tour page opened. Surely others would have seen this opportunity as well. Thoughts of travelling 10 hours to Melbourne started to swirl around in my head. Then, through the haze of green & gold, there it was. A lone ticket. Buying it hastily, I looked for a second seat, thinking that even if we were initially seperate, perhaps someone would swap so that I could sit beside the special person in my life.

No such luck, but I didn't lament. While I'd have to smear myself in crusty green warpaint, and possibly have to wear a big yellow wig, I was still going to be there. And while it wasn't going to be day one, day three could hold the pivotal moment in the match as it so often does. And heck, if I was going to be this passionate about sport, I may as well be tarred with same same green zinc brush as the other crazies.

As for that special someone in my life, well I didn't end up finding a ticket for them, but that's ok. Mini-Boony is small enough to sit on my esky.