Last night, amongst other things, I was watching day two of the Australia vs India test match. (That's cricket, for those of you who think having two countries involved makes a "World Series").

Now you can say what you like about Shane Warne. He's not the brightest, nor the most couth card in the pack. He's kept the tabloids busy, what with dodgy Indian book-keepers and mobile phone calls to strange women. Most of Australia is glad that he was never made captain, even though from his on-field performance he would have well deserved it.

Watching Warne play cricket, though, you get the impression that the reason he lacks wit off the field is because he's saving it for the game. What Warne (and Australia's other premium, and now veteran bowler, Glenn McGrath) brings to the game is absolute focus. You can see it in his eyes: on form, Warne approaches every delivery utterly convinced that it is going to result in a wicket. Warne bowled twenty-one overs yesterday. That's one hundred and twenty-six balls, each of which was driven with an unshaking conviction that this one would send the batsman back to the pavilion with his bat under his arm.

Players complain that Warne tries to intimidate batsman and umpire alike by appealing everything that's even remotely close. And he does. But he's appealing because when the ball left his hand, he was already convinced he'd got you out. And when you hit him for six, as will commonly happen to slower bowlers, he's twice as focused because you just slogged the ball that should have got you out, and he blames himself and needs to make amends.

So here's to you, Warney. Bit of a joke off the field, dead-set legend on it.