S OMEONE in the crowd on day three of the first Test had gone to a deal of trouble to hand-letter a sign, aping the familiar format of a certain credit card's ads. It listed a number of positive outcomes, all ascribed a certain cash value, before proceeding to the main item, described as "Priceless". The exact extent of wit involved remained something of a matter for conjecture, however, because when the cameras singled out the gentleman concerned and his sign for their fleeting few seconds of fame, he proudly displayed his handiwork upside down, only correcting his error at the exact moment the cameras cut away.

The Fox Sports commentary wasn't being run backwards, but otherwise had a fair amount in common with the errant sign-wielder — even if there was anything to say, they weren't saying much. On day three, Laxman Sivaramakrishnan, Ravi Shastri, Brendon Julian and company seemed to have inadvertently adopted the Ten Network's model for AFL coverage, involving simple description of current play, endless statistical analysis, and interpretation of many colourful diagrams. When there wasn't anything new in those areas, they repeated what they'd already said, in slightly different words.

The reason this works acceptably for football, and, as it turns out, is mind-crushingly dull for cricket, is probably that more things happen rather more often in football. It could be argued that cricket commentary, when done well, is rather more of an art than a science. It may involve saying very little to communicate a great deal (the Richie Benaud model), and sometimes necessitates saying a great deal of nothing much in particular. A little wit, or sometimes even a little Tony Greig, can go a long way.