I’m a big cricket fan, and I can’t wait to be in the stands for the first few days of the West Test. I love the game; from the fast bowlers of the Eighties, and the formidable West Indies sides, to the Warne era that redefined pressure.

My old favourites carried heat, and I have to admit I’ve always been biased toward the bowlers.

Warne: the flawed genius who could turn a match in one over and start a moral panic in the same week.

McGrath: the metronome — relentless, ice-cold, surgical in his accuracy.

Gillespie: theatre and tempo, hair flying.

None of them would survive today’s media cycle intact. But they had what we’re still hungry for: presence. You knew who was in charge.

I remember the first time someone told me I had a bit of mongrel. I didn’t take it as a compliment then — bu

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