They came, they saw, they got wet

They came, they saw, they got wet. Again. For the third visit running, the most notable aspect of an England Test match at Centurion Park was the filthy weather. At dawn, a fat ugly highveld cloud rolled across the ground, and for the rest of the day, it sat lugubriously overhead, sniffling away to itself. As in 1995, so in 2000, and now again five years on: the South African board is forever shifting the dates of this fixture, to confuse the weather gods, but the all-seeing eye can't help but hit the bullseye every time.

There was a perverse fascination to be had in watching the gradual abandonment of hope as the day wore on. Every once in a while, the raindrops would ease to a smattering, at which point the groundstaff would perform an elaborate striptease on the covers, occasionally even peeling back the central tarpaulin itself to reveal the raunchiest green-top imaginable. But then, down would come the cold showers, and the show would be postponed for another hour or so.

It's on days like this that it is hard to envisage Centurion Park as the world-class stadium it undoubtedly aspires to be. Is this really the same ground that played host to India v Pakistan at the World Cup in 2003, when Sachin Tendulkar launched into a thrilling assault on Shoaib Akhtar, and the entire town reverberated with the noise and colour of 20,000 delirious fans? It was hard to equate the two images. Today, had it not been for the enthusiastic efforts of the PA announcer and his endless succession of '80s rock anthems, the noise in the ground would have been overshadowed by the distant rumble of traffic on the nearby Krugersdorp-Pietersburg freeway.

Centurion is a ground that takes pride in being green. The northern end of the ground is taken up by a vast arcing grandstand with its smears of blue seating, but everything else about the stadium is subtlely understated, and built to be in tune with its gently sloping grass banks. These run right around the pitch and, on a bright sunny day, are perhaps the greatest asset that any ground could ask for. In keeping with this beach-towel-and-braai atmosphere, instead of hiding away in VIP boxes, the well-to-do spectators hire wooden chalets, which are dotted along the Hennops River end of the ground.

Today, however, all that greenery was rather going to waste. The few hardy souls who stuck it out all day found their usual solace in the beer tent, but understandably enough, most of them then sought shelter beneath the midwicket scoreboard, or under the eaves of the huge blue grandstand roof. But as the afternoon wore on, and the band at Castle Corner burst into life to give the PA man some competition, certain sections of the banks were converted into mudslides, as a succession of fans flung themselves into the arms of fate, and slithered all the way to the boundary's edge.

Waiting for them there - as luck would have it - was a sponsor's jacuzzi, all set to clean them off and warm them up. Doubtless it wasn't the use that had originally been intended - for either bank or bath - but it kept the crowds entertained nonetheless, and that, after all, is what the game is all about. The players found it more difficult to pass the time, however. On a rare appearance in the middle, Paul Collingwood treated a routine jog around the boundary as an assault on the four-minute mile as he hared off ahead of the pack, while Makhaya Ntini kept himself busy in a variety of ways - at one moment he would be chatting to a posse of fans by the turnstiles, at the next he would be dancing in the stands as the Barmy Army popped up beneath the dressing-room viewing galleries to "senerade" their heroes.

It was a jovially damp way to pass the day. The licensed vendors had a pretty bleak time of it, as they wrapped themselves and their wares up in plastic sheeting to keep out the elements, but seeing as no-one who hung around to the bitter end truly believed that any play would ever be possible, there was none of the frustration that usually accompanies such disappointing days. Even Steve Bucknor, the lightmeter-wielding villain of the Jo'burg Test, was able to laugh and joke with the crowd, as he posed for photographs before squelching off into the centre of the pitch to assess the bleeding obvious.

Centurion, even in the damp, retains an open and friendly atmosphere that is undoubtedly linked to its lack of formal structure. Naturally, that informality is set to change, and on the eve of the Test, plans for a new state-of-the-art grandstand were unveiled at a gala launch in the President's Suite.

Interestingly, it is set to include such mod cons as a high-class restaurant, squash courts and conference facilities, but these will be housed at the bulked-out rear-end of the development. The structure itself will taper away the closer it gets to the pitch areas, and currently there are plans for just 1250 permanent seats to be included. The fans, you see, have voted with their behinds. They are quite happy with their grasslands, even when the weather is not at its most conducive.