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The dynastic duelling in the raises an intriguing question here in Australia: why have the antipodes not produced a greater number of political families in the mould of the Clintons or the Kennedys 鈥� or, for that matter, the Romneys, the Bayhs, the Cuomos, the Humphreys, the Browns, the Daleys, the Chafees or the Gores.

Why is Australia not a country of political primogeniture? Why, having seen the rise of Kevin 07, are we unlikely to bring you Jessica 16, 鈥楴icholas 22, or Marcus 41?

Of the country鈥檚 modern-day politicians, Alexander Downer, the foreign affairs minister in the Howard government, probably boasts the most stellar political bloodline.

His grandfather, John Downer, was the premier of South Australia in the late 19th century. His dad, Alexander Sr.,was a member of parliament and a minister for immigration. Like Joe Kennedy Sr., the domineering patriarch of the Kennedy clan, Alexander Sr. also served as his country鈥檚 ambassador 鈥� or high commissioner, to be precise 鈥� in London.

But that is where the comparisons between the Downers and the Kennedys both start and end. It is hard to imagine Alexander Downer鈥檚 jowly features adorning the front cover of, say, , or seeing a seductively-shot photo-spread 鈥楢t Home with the Downers鈥� on its inside pages. Similarly, I have yet to come across an opinion piece entitled The Downer Mystique or The Downer Effect.

What about the Playfords, I hear you cry, South Australia鈥檚 other blueblood political dynasty? Thomas Playford II was also a state premier, as was his grandson, Thomas Playford IV. Sadly, Thomas Playford V, the family鈥檚 present-day political standard bearer, has enjoyed less sucess. In the 2006 state election, he polled just 15% of the vote. Rather aptly, perhaps, he was a candidate for the Family First party.

On the Labor side, there are a few mini-dynasties. Bob Hawke鈥檚 uncle, Bert, was the premier of Western Australia in the 1950s. The federal parliament has also been graced by two Kim Beazleys. The first was a minister in the Whitlam government; the second, his son, was the leader of the opposition until he was ousted by one Kevin Rudd. Curiously, Kim Beazley Jr. shares the same unhappy record as his fellow political scion, Al Gore (whose father Al Gore Sr, was also a US Senator): to have won the popular vote in a national election but not the election itself.

So why are there not more multi-generational political dynasties? Perhaps it is a question of time and patience. After all, some families have only been in Australia for a couple of generations. Perhaps it has something to do, dare I say it, with the prospect of spending half your life in landlocked Canberra. Perhaps Australian politics lacks glamour and razzmatazz, and thus prestige and social cache. Perhaps some of the most talented people born in this country quickly leave its shores 鈥� 鈥榯all poppies鈥� fearful of being felled if they stay.

Perhaps it has something to do with the dominance of business over politics. Some of Australia鈥檚 most influential families 鈥� the Fairfaxs, the Packers and the Murdochs - decided to vest their energies in creating vast media empires rather than making Canberra the target of their ambitions.

Arguably, media clout in Australia can sometimes be stronger, and certainly more enduring, than political clout. At their height , Sir Frank Packer and Kerry Packer continued to enjoy massive influence regardless of whether a Labor or Liberal prime minister occupied The Lodge. The same was and still is true of Sir Keith Murdoch and his son, Rupert.

These dynastic media empires brought them global power, too. Just as Kerry Packer revolutionised international cricket, Rupert Murdoch has revolutionised UK and US media.

Had they chosen a different path and replaced, say, Harold Holt, John Gorton, Malcolm Fraser or Bob Hawke, as Australian prime ministers, would they have wielded so much global influence or achieved such global fame?

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It has been a week of unexpected, unhappy and wistful farewells - ones that traverse the overlapping and intersecting worlds of entertainment, the media and sport. The first involved the death of Australia鈥檚 most promising young movie star, ; the second involved the closure of the country鈥檚 most venerable news magazine, ; and the third involved the retirement of its most complete sportsman, .

All three have had that rare 鈥渉ave you heard鈥� shock factor in their respective communities, and beyond. All three came in the week of Australia Day, the time of year when flags are normally draped proudly around shoulders and painted on faces rather than hung forlornly outside apartment buildings in Lower Manhattan.

All three played a major, if sometimes inadvertent, part in fashioning the country鈥檚 national identity and projecting its image abroad. In the marketing idiom of the day, all three were 鈥渂rand ambassadors鈥� in their own distinctive ways.

Since arriving in Australia, I have been intrigued by the attention the media lavishes on its movie stars - which is part of the reason why the death of Heath Ledger became such a national event.

It is not a criticism. Far from it. Clearly there is a sizeable demographic which is just as proud of a lean young actor from Perth delivering an Oscar-worthy performance in the role of a gay cowboy as a chubby young bowler from Melbourne delivering the 鈥淏all of the Century鈥� in his first performance in the Ashes.

An Oscar, a Golden Globe, an Olympic medal, a Baggy Green cap. In the coin of national pride, are they not an equivalent currency? And understandably so. The prominence of actors like Heath Ledger, Cate Blanchett and Nicole Kidman is one of the central reasons why the world鈥檚 52nd most populous country wields such global cultural clout.

The Bulletin, the 127 year-old news magazine which was shut down last week, helped forge this country鈥檚 cultural and national identity even before Australia became Australia. From its foundation in 1880, the 鈥渂ushman鈥檚 bible鈥�, as it quickly became known, played a crucial role in promoting Australian nationalism and undermining British imperialism. It also had an ugly nativistic and xenophobic streak, which spoke of the nation it helped create, shape and mirror. 鈥淎ustralia for the White Man鈥� ran the slogan which disfigured the magazine鈥檚 masthead right up until 1961, when it was bought by Sir Frank Packer, and edited by Donald Horne, the celebrated author of The Lucky Country.

Culturally, The Bulletin was such a powerful force that a literary school took on its name. 鈥淏anjo鈥� Patterson was its most famous alumnus, the poet who penned 鈥淲altzing Maltilda鈥� along with the 鈥淢an from Snowy River鈥�. Right up until its last edition, literary figures such as the novelists Richard Flanagan and Tom Keneally used its pages to explore the meaning and flavour of modern-day Australia.

The Bulletin fell victim to falling circulation, the high velocity of modern-day news cycles, and the whims of the private equity firm which bought a majority share when James Packer decided to sell-off huge chunks of his father鈥檚 once-mighty media empire and focus on gaming instead.

Kerry Packer had viewed The Bulletin as a loss leader, and seemed willing to endure the economic pain of a falling readership and falling advertising revenues so long as it continued to be bought by the country鈥檚 politicians and opinion formers. Sadly, the private equity company, CVC Asia Pacific, has a much more rudimentary view of profit and loss.

As for Adam Gilchrist, he is the most likeable professional sportsman I have ever had the good fortune to meet - I dare say many journalists would say the same. A player man of peerless skill and effortless charm, he retired from the game holding the world record for the most test dismissals as a wicket-keeper, and the fastest run rate and most sixes as a swashbuckling batsman.

Gilchrist鈥檚 string of records gained him the admiration of fans. But surely it was the way he played the game that won their affection and love. Here we run across our old friends, fairness and decency. Gilchrist was one of the few players in the modern-era to 鈥渨alk鈥�: to bring his innings to close if he knew he was out, even if the umpire was unsure.

Sportsmanship. It鈥檚 a value worth celebrating, especially here in Adelaide - where I have spent the morning watching cricketers file into a courthouse for the rather than descending the steps of the pavilion.

I hope you will forgive me for mentioning Heath Ledger, The Bulletin and Adam Gilchrist in the same breath and blog. But I am sure I am not alone in thinking this week that Australia is a lesser place without them.

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Is Melbourne the sporting capital of the world? I ask this question not merely to show that the 成人论坛鈥檚 Sydney correspondent is well acquainted with Australia鈥檚 second most populous city, but because it merits serious examination.

Which other city can boast a grand slam tennis event, which reaches its climax this very weekend, and a Formula One grand prix, which kicks off the 2008 season in March? The answer, of course, is that there isn鈥檛 one.

Which cities have hosted both the Olympics and the Commonwealth Games? London, Sydney, and, yes, Melbourne (although Vancouver will sneak onto that list after it hosts the 2010 Winter Olympics). The 1956 games hosted by Melbourne was the first time the Olympics had been hosted in the southern hemisphere.

There鈥檚 the , held each year on the first Tuesday of November, which is widely regarded as the planet鈥檚 most prestigious two-mile handicap, and up there with the Kentucky Derby, the Prix de L鈥橝rc de Triomphe and the Grand National in the horse-racing pantheon.

Then there are those other great Melburnian red letter days in the sporting calendar: December 26, the start of the Boxing Day Test match, and the last Saturday in September, which is when the Australian Rules Grand Final is always played.

And here鈥檚 one for the sporting trivia buffs. Which stadium played host to the most well-attended baseball game in the sport鈥檚 history? Fenway Park? Yankee Stadium? Wrigley Field? Think again. It is the Melbourne Cricket Ground, the mighty MCG, which attracted 102,000 fans for an exhibition game during the 1956 Olympics.

In the modern-day MCG, with its colosseum-style rotunda of stands, the city has one of the most capacious cricket stadiums in the world. It can seat 95,000 spectators, with standing room for an additional 5,000.

In the Telstra Dome, a cavernous stadium in the city鈥檚 docklands big enough to stage both rugby internationals, Aussie Rules games and one-day cricket matches, it has a magnificent indoor venue which can accommodate 74,000 spectators. In all, the city boasts 29 venues that can house over 10,000 people.

Right now, the city is the home of Australia鈥檚 rugby league champions, the , as well as the domestic soccer champions, the aptly-named .

On Jolimont Street you will find the headquarters of Cricket Australia, the world鈥檚 most successful national cricket board. Melbourne also houses the headquarters of the AFL, the global hub of Australian Rules Football, a sport which the city both spawned and cradled.

Last year it hosted the World Swimming Championships. In 2006 it staged arguably the most successful and spectacular Commonwealth Games in the history of the quadrennial event.

Though some have questioned whether the millions spent staging the Melbourne Grand Prix generates a commensurate return, the city has been very smart in welcoming international sports stars, and the dollars they bring with them.

When it comes to events tourism, Sydney is deemed to have taken its eye off the ball after the 2000 Olympics. Melbourne has thundered it into the top right hand corner of the net.

One of the great charms of the capital of Victoria is that many of its sporting venues are within a javelin鈥檚 throw of Federation Square, the city鈥檚 artsy new hub. Whereas travelling to Olympic Park in Sydney sometimes feels like traversing half-way across the Nullarbor Plain, the MCG is right on the edge of the central business district. Just over the way is the Rod Laver Arena, where the final of the Australian Open will be played.

Certainly, London can boast more venerable venues, even if it does require a zones 1-6 Travelcard鈥� to reach them. Lords surely beats the MCG, and Wimbledon is prettier than Melbourne Park, the home of Australian tennis. For rowing regattas, the River Yarra lacks the majestic sweep of the Thames.

And now that London stages the first leg of the Tour de France and will in four years host the Olympics, it may well have the edge. But in a trans-equatorial play-off, Melbourne would surely represent the southern hemisphere (although the people of Johannesburg, Rio de Janiero and, of course, Sydney, might want to weigh in on that).

Arksports, a London-based consultancy firm which conducted a global survey in 2006, actually ranked Melbourne number one in the world for hosting a sporting event. Paris and Sydney came joint second, Berlin was fourth and London fifth. The enthusiasm of Melburnian sports fans was cited as a key reason why.

So having started with a question, I鈥檒l end with a few more. Why this sporting fascination? Is it the city鈥檚 polyglot population? Is it savvy marketing and event planning? Or it is that other great Melbournian sport? Putting one over on Sydney.

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Pepper spray at the Australian Open in Melbourne - the whiff of capsicum at a tournament touted as the world's friendliest grand slam event.

In the same week that Victoria's "thin blue line" struggled to contain an adolescent free-for-all organised by You Tube's "man of the moment", party animal Corey Delaney - think American Pie meets Neighbours meets Nightmare on Elm Street - they decided to of the Greek player Konstantinos Economidis. A Greek "cheer squad" were allegedly chanting racial abuse at Chile's Fernando Gonzalez.

At a time when the over-aggressive, are the focus of national discussion, is it not worth a word on what some might consider the over-aggressive, "in-your-face" tactics of Australia's police?

The policing of the APEC summit last September could be cited in the case for the prosecution. The arrival in Sydney of 21 Asia-Pacific leaders, including the US President George W Bush, obviously demanded some pretty robust security. But at times, the policing was almost as ugly as that lattice wire fence, the which disfigured the central business district.

Certainly, the policing of the main protest march that week seemed disproportionate. After the banner-waving and slogan-shouting protest had pretty much passed off in a boisterous but overwhelming orderly way, the New South Wales police decided to deploy its riot squad and brand new US-built water-cannon. Having bought their new toy for $A600,000 ($525,000, 拢270,000), they seemed determined to use it. Fortunately, the tap remained in the off position, but its appearance seemed gratuitous.

By then, of course, a few pranksters from The Chaser's War on Everything had with a few black hire cars, some wrap-around shades, some "curly-wurly" ear-pieces, a coloured photocopier and a comedian dressed as Osama Bin Laden.

In her new Quarterly Essay, the academic Judith Brett argues that this was the moment that John Howard's "days as a Strong Leader were over", because the Chaser boys had turned the government's "national security credentials into a national joke". Still, it is worth remembering that the NSW police receive their orders from a Labor-controlled state government.

Months earlier, in what almost seemed like a dress rehearsal for the main event, the visit of Vice-President Dick Cheney provided more evidence of over-zealous policing. Here, officers felt it necessary to break-up a small demonstration outside Cheney's hotel, even though it displayed all the menace of an ice cream van.

As the horses and boiler-suit clad police officers moved in, an old lady was knocked down in the melee. Afterwards, the police said they had wanted to arrest two demonstrators dressed in blue overalls who were impersonating a police officer. Police officers have never considered imitation a form of flattery.

Ahead of the Australian Open, the Victoria police announced a "zero tolerance" policy, the security slogan of the age. They were mindful of the unexpected violence at last year's tournament, when Serbian and Croatian fans brawled at Melbourne Park, using their national flags as weapons.

Once again, as the pepper spray incident showed, predictions of trouble seem almost to become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Talking up the possibility of aggro almost seems to invite it.

Of course, the cricketing authorities showed the same officious streak during last summer's Ashes series, when it banned the "Barmy Army's" trumpeter from the stands. The New South Wales Premier Morris Iemma also displayed a needlessly authoritarian side by writing to the then British Prime Minister, Tony Blair, to ask for help in identify known trouble-makers amongst England's travelling fans.

Why this officiousness?

At the Ashes, I well remember a British cricket writer haughtily holding court, and offering what I thought at the time was the patronising theory that all could be explained by the country's penal past: that the colonies and territories which eventually came together in Federation had strongly-enforced rules and regulations from the very outset. Early government was a top-down affair rather than something that developed in a more organic, bottom-up, democratic and therefore user-friendly manner. Comments please?

Perhaps it has something to do with "over-government": the simple fact that it takes three tiers of government - federal, state and local - to administer 21 million people. In other words, a triple whammy of overlapping officialdom, which again has it roots in early, pre-Federation governance.

Certainly, it all contradicts the global image of Australia as the world's great laid-back nation. Many are the times - usually when confronted with my latest parking or dog-walking fine - when I've thought quite the opposite is true.

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On Wednesday this week much of Australia鈥檚 international diplomacy was conducted from level four of the Prindiville Stand at the WACA in Perth, as India and Australia played a very on the ground below.

For it was there, behind a row of corporate boxes, that the new foreign affairs minister, Stephen Smith, spent much of the three sessions manipulating the keypad of his Blackberry and making calls on his mobile phone in a spot of 鈥渂oundary diplomacy鈥�.

The more difficult juggling act came on the policy front, and involved Australia鈥檚 relations with two of the world鈥檚 leading powers: India and Japan.

The day before, the Rudd government had , thus overturning a pledge from the Howard government made only last year to let exports go ahead. In deciding to help quench India鈥檚 thirst for energy, Mr Howard had rewritten Australia鈥檚 long-standing rules, which barred uranium exports to any countries that had not signed the nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty. The Rudd government reverted back to the old, restrictive rules.

In a curious quirk of scheduling, Mr Smith鈥檚 guests at the cricket - as well as being the foreign affairs minister, he鈥檚 also the local Perth MP- were the Indian high commissioner and a representative of Dr Manmohan Singh, the Indian prime minister. In a brief discussion in the lift, Mr Smith would not tell me if the Indians had 鈥渟ledged鈥� him for this reversal, but did say how much he enjoyed meeting Anil Kumble, the Indian captain.

The decision held no surprises for the Indians. Ahead of last November鈥檚 election, one of Labor鈥檚 clearest foreign policy pledges was to block the sale of uranium 鈥� the Australian Labor Party has long had a loud and vocal non-proliferation lobby. In making good that promise, the new government had taken what it framed as a principled and ethical stand.

But that day Mr Smith found himself dealing with another pre-election pledge from Labor: the promise to get tough with Japanese whalers who hunt and kill whales in waters which Australia claims as it own.

Two developments had brought the issue to the fore. First, a which decided that Japan鈥檚 so-called 鈥渟cientific whaling programme鈥� in the Southern Ocean was in clear violation of Australian law. Second, the detention of two anti-whaling activists on a Japanese whaler, one an Australian, the other a Briton.

Both raised the obvious question of how far the Rudd government was prepared to go to get tough with the whaling industry, as it had promised to do in opposition.

Would it risk an acrimonious row with Japan? Would it serve the injunction from its own federal court to the captains of the whaling fleet? Given that the fleet is operating in what Canberra claims as its own territorial waters, that, after all, was the clear implication of the court order. And what would it do to 鈥渞escue鈥� its own citizen from the Japanese ship?

It鈥檚 tempting - and arguably a bit hackneyed - to consider what Lord Palmerston, Britain鈥檚 most famous 19th Century foreign secretary, might have done. No doubt, he would have dispatched the Royal Navy to serve the court order, and evoked the cry of 鈥淐ivis romanus sum鈥�, the boast of any Roman citizen who knew the long arm of the empire would reach out if ever he found himself inconvenienced by a foreign power.

Whereas Palmerston favoured 鈥済un-boat diplomacy鈥�, on this occasion Kevin Rudd has opted instead for a customs ship, which overnight. As for the court order, the government decided against intercepting the whale fleet, and said it would go through normal diplomatic channels.

Meanwhile, the environment minister Peter Garrett would not be drawn on how far the government would go in enforcing the order, meekly noting that it would pursue 鈥渁n overall, holistic and fair-dinkum approach to opposing Japanese so-called scientific whaling鈥�.

The new government is clearly trying to avoid a bruising row with Japan, its biggest trading partner and the third largest source of investment. Neither is its legal position entirely clear cut. Only four countries - New Zealand, France, Norway and Britain 鈥� recognise Canberra鈥檚 claim on the Australian Whale Sanctuary, and enforcing the court order might therefore violate international maritime law.

Getting tough with the Japanese whalers makes for an easy pre-election slogan but a much harder post-election policy - as Stephen Smith has been finding out at first hand between overs at the cricket.

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Having already assigned his MPs post-election homework 鈥� which demanded of them visits to at least two schools and a homeless shelter 鈥� it is not hard to imagine Australia鈥檚 school mamish prime minister asking them to pen that post-vacation staple for returning schoolchildren: 鈥淲hat I did on my holidays?鈥�

For mere variety alone, Kevin Rudd鈥檚 manuscript on the subject would no doubt earn him a gold star. Since winning the election last November, he has journeyed to Bali for the , called in on East Timor and made surprise visits to Australian 鈥渄iggers鈥� based in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Along with watching the New Years鈥� Sydney fireworks from the lawn of Kirribilli House (he footed the bill for the party himself, for the tax-payer-expense-minded among you), he has also sprinkled upon his incoming administration the glitter of Australian celebrity. The most sparkling glitter at that, having invited a, her husband, the country singer Keith Urban, and Hugh Jackman to dinner at his harbourside official Sydney residence.

Jackman has become something of a recurring theme, for he joined the prime minister in the Cricket Australia box at the New Years鈥� test in Sydney. The always funny of the Sydney Morning Herald suspects that Mr Rudd might have a developed a 鈥渕ild man crush鈥� on this 鈥淴-man鈥�, while also suggesting that his star-studded shindig at Kirribilli offered proof that the 鈥渘erds have never had such a revenge鈥�.

Now, after all the partying, holidaying, cricketing and global glad-handing comes the bit that the workaholic prime minister no doubt relishes the most: the unforgiving task of actually governing.

As he returns to the determinedly unglamorous setting of the Lodge, his Canberra official residence, he will know that much of the plump, low-hanging fruit left over from the Howard era has already been plucked from the trees.

Of course, his was to start the process through which Australia will ultimately ratify Kyoto. Low-hanging fruit does not come much riper. Then, he jetted off to Bali where his new climate change minister, the Malaysian-born Penny Wong, took the lead in the negotiations, adding even a brighter sheen to his country鈥檚 newly-burnished green credentials.

In Iraq, he told the troops they would be home by next Christmas.

On reconciliation, his government has promised to apologise to Aborigines for past injustices - even if this mea culpa is going to be extremely carefully worded, so as not to expose the federal government to compensation claims or expensive litigation.

On immigration, his British-born minister, Chris Evans, has signalled an the system under which asylum seekers were detained in ghastly detention camps on dreamy Pacific islands; and said that Dr Mohamed Haneef, the Indian physician held in connection with the British terror plot, can work in Australia again.

On the box marked 鈥渄efinitive break with the past鈥�, Mr Rudd can add a neat cross.

Now comes the trickier test. His deputy, Julia Gillard, has to deliver an 鈥渆ducation revolution鈥�, while at the same time mitigating the worst effects of the Howard government鈥檚 WorkChoices labour laws. His treasurer, Wayne Swan, has to identify cuts in government spending in the hope of heading off another interest rate hike. On this potentially troublesome front, the major banks have already angered the incoming government by raising the cost of borrowing independently of any official rise from Australia鈥檚 central bank. His health secretary Nicola Roxon has to fix the country鈥檚 increasingly dysfunctional health system, and can no longer lay the blame at the door of the states and territories since all of them are now in Labor hands.

Then, there are those unforeseen events which can test the mettle of even the most steely of politicians. Within weeks of becoming Prime Minister in 1996, John Howard had to deal with the , when Martin Bryant killed 35 people at the site of the colonial prison ruins in Tasmania.

His bold decision afterwards to explain his government鈥檚 new gun laws to a hostile crowd of farmers, hunters and gun collectors, wearing a bullet-proof vest underneath his blazer jacket, helped him make the leap in public mind from North Sydney solicitor to national leader. A bungled crisis can have an equal and opposite effect.

Kevin Rudd knows that Australian voters are a fairly patient bunch. In modern times they have granted every government at least two terms in charge.

Journalists, on the other hand, prefer a much speedier rush to judgment. Soon they will be setting a question of their own of the new prime minister: 鈥淲hat did you do with your first 100 days in office?鈥�

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Ricky Ponting鈥檚 latest 鈥淐aptain鈥檚 Diary鈥�, his look-back over Australia鈥檚 cricketing year, starts off with the dictionary definitions of two words: 鈥渞evenge鈥� (retaliatory punishment) and 鈥渞edemption鈥� (improving of something).

From the outset of his daily chronicle, he is determined to make clear that Australia鈥檚 successful reclamation of the Ashes with its lop-sided 5-0 victory over England was motivated not by 鈥渞evenge鈥� and had everything to do with 鈥渞edemption鈥�. Mindful of his team鈥檚 鈥渨in at all costs鈥� reputation, clearly he does not like to be portrayed as the hard-nosed skipper of a mean and nasty outfit.

We play hard, is the over-riding message, but we play fair.

With sometimes numbing precision, his books details all manner of things from the exorbitant cost of getting clothes laundered in England; his love of golf and the greyhounds (which earned him his nickname 鈥淧unter鈥�); and the devotion to his wife, Rianna (鈥淚t鈥檚 no coincidence that my best days as a cricketer have occurred since I met you鈥�). Displaying a work ethic that is positively Presbyterian, he likes to be the first to reach training and the last to leave.

In parts, the book is not so much a running commentary as a running rebuttal. Few on-field slights are left unchallenged, nor much criticism from the commentary box.

This passage, complaining of how the England slip cordon kept performing Shane Warne impressions during the fifth Test in Sydney, neatly sums things up.

鈥淭his went on for ages, long past the time when it might have been funny鈥� To me, it looked pretty juvenile, hardly the actions of a side trying to win back some pride after being thrashed so comprehensively in the first four Tests.鈥�

These are the recollections of a man with an elephantine memory for personal disparagement - of a very thin-skinned and peevish individual.

So how will the Tasmanian respond to the kitbag full of criticism which he has endured over the past few days?

How about this from , whose withering onslaught made it onto the front page of his paper.

鈥淩icky Ponting must be sacked as captain of the Australian cricket team,鈥� he wrote, in a laser-guided attack. 鈥淚f Cricket Australia cares a fig for the tattered reputation of our national team in our national sport, it will not for a moment longer tolerate the sort of arrogant and abrasive conduct seen from the captain and his senior players over the past few days.鈥�

And how about the back page headline of Sydney鈥檚 Daily Telegraph 鈥� 鈥淧unters Turn on Punter鈥�. It carried the findings of an online poll - admittedly never the most scientific survey of the public pulse. It suggested that 79% do not think the Australian team play in the true spirit of the game, and that 83% do not think Ricky Ponting is a good ambassador for the game of cricket.

I鈥檝e spoken before about Australia鈥檚 almost sacred fairness doctrine, this unwritten rulebook which regulates conduct. Reflecting on the manner of victory in the second test at Sydney, it seems many here feel the Australians violated the acceptable bounds of fair play, with their excessive celebrations and verbal sledging.

Furthermore, it seems many feel that the Indians were not given a fair go by the umpires, particularly Steve Bucknor, whose string of bad decisions contributed to their defeat.

No right-thinking individual would defend Harbhajan if he did indeed call the black all-rounder Andrew Symonds a 鈥渕onkey鈥�. Still, there is a sense that the Australians have helped create the kind of hostile and abusive climate in which such comments are made.

Bizarrely in the midst of this 鈥淏ollyline鈥� series, some of the Australian team went back to the Sydney Cricket Ground yesterday to film part of a Bollywood movie - a case of art imitating sporting life. But it is the way the team act on the field which is now coming under such scrutiny. There are some who clearly feel they deserve an Academy award for bad sportsmanship.

In his defence, I have to say that the only time I have spent any time with Ponting, at a Melbourne Cup Day party just before the 2006 Ashes series, he was friendly, interesting, candid and excellent company. He also provided the useful insider鈥檚 titbit that of all England鈥檚 injured and missing players, a casualty list which included Michael Vaughan and Marcus Trescosthick, it was the troublesome bowler Simon Jones whom he thought would be missed the most - a telling prediction.

At news conferences, I鈥檝e always found him unfailingly courteous, with the occasional good gag and a happy knack of avoiding the most obvious and plodding sporting cliches - all that 鈥渨e鈥檒l give it 110%鈥� rubbish.

Judging by his response to previous criticism, the current round of barbs will play on his mind for months to come. And then we鈥檒l get no doubt get a glimpse of his private thoughts in next year鈥檚 鈥淐aptain's Diary鈥�.

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To have watched the final five balls of Sydney's New Year test was to have witnessed much of what is unique and so elevating about cricket's most beauteous form of the game.

To have watched the previous five days of play was to have seen the peevishness, boorishness and administrative incompetence which is disfiguring the game.

Today should have been a time to roll out that dog-eared sporting cliche that the "game is the winner". A moment to marvel at how Michael Clarke, a part-time spinner, won a last-gasp victory for his team, despite acknowledging afterwards that he did not think he had "a chance in hell" of getting three wickets in the final 10 minutes of play.

For the Australian team, this should have been a morning to savour their record-equalling 16th straight test victory, the final four of which were secured without their match-winning legends, retirees Shane Warne and Glenn McGrath.

Instead, the headlines have been contaminated by the , complaints about the wanton aggressiveness of the Australians' play and criticisms of the umpiring, especially from Steve Bucknor.

Rather than being the perpetrators of an injustice, the Indians feel the victims of at least two: the quality of umpiring (out of 10 bad umpiring decisions, most of them went against the tourists) and the unremitting sledging from the Australians.

In his post-match press, Anil Kumble, one of the elder statesmen of the game, chose his words with great deliberation and knew they were loaded with historical meaning. "I think only one team were playing in the spirit of the game," he said, a comment which prompted applause from Indian reporters.

The statement, of course, was an echo of the former Australian captain Bill Woodfull, who memorably told the England manager: "There are two teams out there. One is playing cricket and the other is not."

Almost inevitably, the present bad-tempered series has now been dubbed "Bollyline".

The threat from the Indians that they would take no further part in the series has proved an idle one. The Board of Control for Cricket in India, the BCCI, would never have jeopardized its lucrative television deals. Instead, the administrators, officials and players are left to work out some kind of rancor-lifting rapprochement before the teams meet again in Perth on 16 January.

One of the most striking strands of this story has been the even-handed response from the Australian cricket press, arguably the best in the business. The consensual view appears to be that racism clearly has no place in the game, but that neither does such over-aggressive and boorish sledging. As ever, of The Australian neatly summed up the mood: "For some of this match, they went too hard, much like Harbhajan."

Jim Maxwell, the ABC cricket commentator, offers another voice of reason. "Australia is always hard-nosed and there's a touch of arrogance about the way they play," he said on national radio this morning. "Perhaps they need to back off a little bit."

There is so much to admire about this present Australian cricket team, from their superlative skill on the field to the way they drive their own team mini-buses off it. But there is an ugliness sometimes about the way they engineer and celebrate their victories. In Sydney, it was personified by Andrew Symonds, who admitted after his match-winning first innings knock of 162 that he knew he had been caught out in the early stages of his innings, but was more than happy to allow the umpire to adjudge him "not out".

I was at the Sydney Cricket Ground for the final day of the match and left thrilled at having watched one of the most remarkable finishes in the game's long history.

This morning came the hang-over.

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