Of all the sights of Australia’s long phase of cricket dominance, none was quite so characteristic as Ricky Ponting emerging to bat at the fall of the first wicket. His was a team full of brilliant virtuosi, each with their own airs and auras. Yet somehow Ponting’s arrival proclaimed most clearly their collective purpose: he strode from the gate as though he couldn’t wait to get to grips with his opponents; if the first ball was anywhere near straight, it was four off the pads; dropped short, it would be hooked; pushed wide, it would be driven.