Australians will never throw in the towel over Shane Warne’s status

By the Times Chief Sports Writer Simon Barnes

By the time you read this, Muttiah Muralitharan may well have broken the record for Test-match wickets, having joined Shane Warne on the almost ludicrous mark of 708 yesterday. Time, then, to brace yourself for a wave of resentment, most of it from Australia.

It makes a fascinating parallel with The Times’s series on the 75th anniversary of the Bodyline tour. Back then there was (and still is, in a fossilised kind of way) outrage that an Australian sporting hero should be revealed as nothing more than a man. The tactic of bodyline bowling exposed Don Bradman’s shortcomings and this was not acceptable. Therefore, the tactic must be wrong.

The record Murali has equalled is held by a player who, like Bradman, is one of the greatest cricketers that ever drew breath. But Murali is set to pass his record; therefore the record-equaller must be wrong.

Murali is Wisden’s 2007 Leading Cricketer in the World and I wrote a piece in the almanack to mark the fact. I said that Murali’s action had been passed and accepted and authorised, which means that you cannot quarrel with Murali, only with the laws of cricket. I also said that those who pick this quarrel must be prepared to argue about the angle between the longitudinal axis of the upper arm and forearm in the sagittal plane.

Inevitably, a couple of Australian columnists of the unreconstructed kind responded. Their argument was, roughly, I don’t care about all that, I just know that he chucks every ball and that makes “Warnie” the best. So much for logic.

The only rational view is that both are great cricketers and remarkable sportsmen. After that we can argue for as long as you like as to which is better. The argument that Murali is less good because he is compromised (mainly by Australian insularity) is simply not admissible.

It has been a joy watching him: a thrilling but chivalrous opponent, a symbol of unity in a sometimes troubled country, a professional who plays sport with the relish of more innocent times. Some people see international sport as a way in which local heroes seek to touch the infinite, while others see international sport as a measure of the length in feet of the national d**k.

Me, I’ve seen England lose to Murali and I’ve seen England lose to Warnie, and I’ve been blessed. (I’ve seen England win against both as well, so make that doubly blessed.)

To Jonny the glory; to Jason the tag of genius

Few athletes have given me greater pleasure than Jason Robinson. Loyal to my father’s roots, I often watched him when he played rugby league for Wigan and marvelled at the way that some men can run and be caught, while others run and no one can hold them. Therein lies the mystery of rugby.

It’s not just speed, not just little jinks and stutters, it’s not even the ability to see lines of running. Rather, it’s about a personal understanding of space. Robinson, who retired on Saturday after taking part in the Barbarians’ win over South Africa, had this gift to a greater extent than any rugby player I have seen, with the sole exception of David Campese.