'If you even dream of beating me you'd better wake up and apologise'. No, none of the Australians said this, though someone could well have, given the tenor of Ozzie-speak these past 50 days. Actually, the incomparable Muhammad Ali made this unambiguous statement many years ago, another of those pithy quotes that summed up the man.

Much like, "It's not bragging if you can back it up" or "It's just a job. Grass grows, birds fly, waves pound the sand. I beat people up." He was a champion who made no bones about being a champion. A free spirit who defied society and social niceties and did pretty much what he liked. He set his own standard, tried to live his dreams and speak his speak and was as much resented as he was celebrated for doing so.

In some ways, the man who is arguably the world's greatest sporting legend is much like a single manifestation of the combined Aussie cricket team. In the fact that they are the best - and make no bones about it either! But here the resemblance ends. Like him or hate him, Ali, by all accounts, was a passionate man of and unswerving belief in his own convictions in an era (America of the 1960s and '70s) where you needed to be a believer to survive in a society in a state of flux. He symbolised far more than boxing, or sport.

Ali had his enemies, yet, he was unabashedly loved by those who believed in him and what he stood for. The Aussies, for all their invincibility, seem unloved, often disliked even in their own country for their aggressive behaviour and the perception that they sledge, for not having a more human side. Sunil Gavaskar stirred up a hornet's nest a while ago by calling the Aussies unpopular champions. Well, maybe they are, though there will be an equal number who point to the fact that winning ugly doesn't matter, only winning does. And add that they don't always win ugly or seem robotic.

Yes, they don't. This team has a Gilchrist, someone who goes against the tide and walks when he's out, a man who is all power but still an absolute joy to watch when he is on song. A man who actually seems to mirror the spirit of an Ali - he floats like a butterfly and stings like a bee. This team then also has a Ponting, who, for all his intense, brash style of captaincy, wields the willow rather sweetly, with precision timing that is a rare skill. And finally, there is a Clarke, with his mussed-up hair and boyish smile, a batsman of uncommon grace who is already being tipped to take over from Ponting. Yet, despite the trio, if someone asks if this is the greatest team ever, some would have to say, "we don't think so'.

This is probably the best combine our generation may have watched live. You have to be in awe of them. That is non-debatable. You have to know the opposition will be glassy-eyed at the clinical scything that is leaving them ravaged. There is that inevitable feeling of d and #233;j and #224; vu when you see Australia pulverising someone --- "I'm sure I've seen this before". Well, you probably have, time and time again. And as things stand, you probably will. They are deservedly world champions.

But (and there is a but), as a team, there is something missing about them. They somehow lack the joie-de-vivre of other, less endowed and less successful teams, their robotic competence is awe-inspiring, even scary, but it fails to leave you moved. Many of us haven't really watched the best years of Clive Lloyd's West Indians live, but every time we watch a re-run or a documentary, it is fascinating. There is a mystique and a mystery to them that this bunch of all-conquering Australians doesn't seem to have. There is a sense of history.

Cricket may have become much too commercialised, but being a fan is still a lot about romancing the game, about being moved by the dramatic instances that make sport so much of a thing of beauty, moments that make up your book of 'forever memories'. Will one even remember moments from this triumphant Aussie march this time, next year? I'm not so sure.

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