Against Nikolay Valuev, David Haye did what he had to do. No frills, no showboating, no flights of unnecessary machismo. He hit, he moved, he hit, he moved - all the way to the world heavyweight crown.

As the great Evander Holyfield said beforehand, the perfect tactics against the 7ft Russian lead to a "boring fight". Call it boring, call it boxing at its purest.

"I had to find a strategy to beat him, and I did," said Haye, who revealed he had damaged his right hand early on in the fight. "I hit him more times than he hit me."

Haye overcame a damaged right hand to beat Valuev

Why would Haye have fought any other way? Seven stones lighter, nine inches shorter, only a madman chooses to stand in front of a giant like Valuev and trade - a madman, and most likely a loser.

Who decided a boxer shouldn't be allowed to win a fight on the back foot? Who said simply walking forwards wins you rounds? As Haye's trainer Adam Booth pointed out, "if you land two punches in the round and don't get hit once, it's you who wins the round", whether you're backpedalling or not.

With a partisan crowd behind him at the Nuremberg Arena, Haye must have been sorely tempted to let rip. While at times it felt like I was watching a spot of Flyball at Crufts - German boxing crowds are a rather refined bunch - when the Brits in the crowd got going, Haye must have felt he was going at it at The Den.

But he remembered what he had to do and stuck to his game-plan. Mercifully, he had more than enough juice to keep chugging down the stretch, which surprised a great many.

If it's excitement you want, you should stick around. Former two-time world champion John Ruiz is next, and he's tailor-made for Haye. Haye reckons he'll "knock Ruiz spark out", and this time I don't think he's bluffing.

But, in the meantime, we should savour the Londoner's victory for what it is, up there with the best by a Briton abroad: only Britain's third heavyweight world champion since Bob Fitzsimmons in 1899; only the second former cruiserweight world champion to claim a world heavyweight crown after Holyfield. It's quite some feat.

Don Curry, Ismael Laguna and Sugar Ray Robinson were far more illustrious scalps for Lloyd Honeyghan, Ken Buchanan and Randy Turpin respectively, but then none of that great British trio was giving away seven stone in weight and nine inches in height.

I'd advise you to disregard the trash-talk, that was just part of the plan. The real Haye is the man who arrived at the Nuremberg Arena with just his trainer and sparring partner in tow. He just wants to do his family, friends and countrymen proud, and he deserves all the plaudits he'll get.

Haye says he want to clean up the heavyweight division

"We've been waiting for someone like David Haye to enter the heavyweight division," said Richard Schaefer, head of Golden Boy promotions in America, one of the biggest players in boxing. "Today is the beginning of a new time for the sport."

If Haye can see off Ruiz, which he should have little problem doing, it will be time to go hunting for Klitschkos, and they shouldn't be too hard to find.

Wladimir, who was supposed to have fought Haye in June before Haye suffered a back injury, holds the IBF and WBO belts, older brother Vitali the WBC. In Haye, they'll see Vegas and glory and dollar signs. And Haye will see the same in them.

"This was just the first stop, taking the WBA title from this giant," said Haye. "I've got the British public behind me and it's on to bigger and better things."

It's been one of those rare old weeks, a week when Britain loved boxing again: Grandmas on buses, kids in playgrounds, mums trying to spark conversations with taciturn sons, posh people, poor people, texters, bloggers and tweeters.

And I bet you heard the question asked at least once: "How's that little British fella going to beat that Russian giant?" Well, on Saturday, David Haye provided the answer: he did what he had to do. And in boxing, that's all that counts.

As well as my blogs, you can follow me when I'm out and about in Nuremberg at http://twitter.com/bendirs1

In common with television chef Gary Rhodes, King appears to be lowering the voltage in tiny increments, labouring under the misapprehension that the general public won't notice. One day the shaven-headed promoter will kick back in King Towers, spark up a monster stogie and say to himself, "you know what Don, I think you got away with it".

Nuremberg may be a long way from Kinshasa, Zaire, where King made his name masterminding "The Rumble in the Jungle", or indeed Las Vegas, but never let it be said that the Germans don't love their boxing.

The crowds flocked to the Mercado shopping mall to gawk in disbelief at the chiselled, marbled David next to this woolly-backed Goliath. They sniggered, they marvelled, but most of all they wondered: "How's this little British fella going to beat this big Russian giant?"

Don King (centre) takes centre stage with Valuev and Haye at the weigh-in

That's the question Haye reckons everyone will be asking back home too. And judging by the texts and tweets I've been receiving over the past few days, he's bang on the money.

Others have already made up their minds, piling their cash on Haye to the extent he's a 4-7 favourite. But then British fight fans have a habit of letting their hearts rule their heads.

Still, many wise boxing men believe the little British fella can beat the Russian giant, although their opinions are littered with 'ifs'. And as a wise old boxer once told me, "if 'ifs' were a drug, all us fighters would be high as kites".

"If he's aggressive," says Evander Holyfield, who dropped a controversial decision against Valuev last year, "if Haye keeps moving, keeps moving, keeps moving..."

"If Haye moves around and throws a lot of punches," says John Ruiz, who has dropped two controversial decisions against Valuev in the past, "if he can do that he's got a chance."

"If Haye can make Valuev move," says British heavyweight legend Sir Henry Cooper, "you're moving 22st around, and heavy guys don't like moving, then David's got a chance."

"If he can keep moving, keep moving, Valuev can't catch what he can't find," says Britain's last heavyweight world champion Lennox Lewis.

Keep moving, keep moving, keep moving. So many fine boxers can't be wrong. Unfortunately for Haye, it's only part of the equation.

If you think of Valuev as a barge, being slowly manoeuvred this way then that, then you also have to factor in his barge-pole of a jab. "How can you not be strong and be that big," says Holyfield, "and when you get hit by that big, long stick..." Holyfield declined to finish the sentence.

"He's got very long arms," says Haye, "and a very large, awkward educated jab which is hard to get round. He throws punches from so far away, when you do slip it you're still out of range. So you've got to work twice as hard to get in and land your own shots."

If Haye can get inside "that big, long stick", the next part of the equation is to let go with some bombs and get back out again before much damage is done. For having a 23st man crashing down on top of you like a colossal wave is going to shatter your stamina.

Haye's staying power, and whiskers, have long been the source of suspicion, ever since a 40-year-old Carl Thompson dragged him out to sea and drowned him in the fifth round of their contest five years ago.

In 23 professional fights, the 29-year-old Haye has only been 12 rounds once, while 19 of his encounters, most of them at cruiserweight, have lasted less than six.

Obscure Dane Lolenga Mock floored Haye in 2003, and he's a career super-middleweight. Jean Marc Mormeck had Haye down again in 2007 before Haye peeled himself off the canvas to claim the undisputed cruiserweight crown. And Monte Barrett also had him down in Haye's last fight, almost a year ago.

Fans of Haye will have to hope he has learned his lessons and that all the pre-fight bluster about going in with his spurs jingle-jangling and trying to knock Valuev out has been just that - bluster. For despite his size, no-one's ever questioned Valuev's stamina, just as no-one's ever questioned his chin.

Everyone seems to be in agreement: the little man has the technical tools to do a job on the giant. But you know what they say about a tired man working with tools: it can be very, very dangerous.

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"People have said to me throughout the years, 'the heavyweight division, it's not like it used to be'. My plan, my mission is to return it to the old days..."

For a few seconds David Haye looked repentant, as if he had suddenly been forced to examine his own methods and didn't like what he'd seen. Then the confidence returned, a wry smile crossed his lips and he proclaimed: "There are no boundaries, no limits. As long as people are watching and boxing's on the map, that's all that counts."

The question had been posed by an elderly German journalist who wanted to know - like most of the Germans at the pre-fight news conference wanted to know - whether Haye thought he had crossed the boundaries of good taste in hyping his fight with Nikolay Valuev in Nuremberg on Saturday.

"As long as I know people are going to watch the fight and are getting excited about it, that's why I'm in this game, to entertain," Haye told BBC Sport. "The more people that watch it the better, I'm just trying to spread the word."

Haye has form in this arena. Before his scheduled match with Wladimir Klitschko, which fell through after Haye suffered a back injury in June, the Englishman was roundly chastised for wearing a T-shirt depicting him holding aloft the severed heads of Klitschko and his older brother Vitali.

The venerable Sir Henry Cooper claimed his countryman had overstepped the mark, calling Haye's pre-match routine "cobblers".

"The sport has already got enough opposition in the anti-boxing lobby," added Cooper, who fought the great Muhammad Ali twice in the 1960s.

"He doesn't need to do this sort of publicity to put bums on seats. Rather, I think he's driving bums off seats with his behaviour."

David Haye in contemplative mood during a media session

Far be it for me to disagree with boxing's only living knight of the realm, but I can't help thinking Sir Henry had the old rose-tinted spectacles on when he made those comments.

Not only was Ali the exemplar of trash-talk, some of the stuff he came out with was downright nasty, rendering Haye's antics playground by comparison.

Revisionist historians will tell you Ali always held forth with a glint in his eyes. But the glint was malign when he was calling Joe Frazier a gorilla, and there was no glint at all when he was calling him "an Uncle Tom".

Similarly, there was no glint in Ernie Terrell's eyes, or indeed Oscar Bonavena's, when they mocked Ali's Muslim faith and refused to call him by his chosen name.

And there was no glint in Benny Paret's eyes when, in 1962, he questioned Emile Griffith's sexuality at the weigh-in for their welterweight world title fight. Griffith was incensed, and Paret died as a result of injuries sustained in the bout.

Those who agree with Sir Henry can't have it both ways, bemoaning the low profile of boxing while simultaneously chastising a fighter like Haye who creates a buzz.

The fact is there hasn't been a heavyweight world title fight as eagerly anticipated as this one since Lennox Lewis hung up his gloves six years ago, and that's not only down to the 'freak factor' of Valuev, it's also down to Haye's incontinent chatter.

"It's a truly David and Goliath match-up," says Haye, "and it deserves a big build-up, the tag of 'super-fight', and that's the billing it's getting.

"People have said to me throughout the years, 'the heavyweight division, it's not like it used to be', and my plan, my mission, is to return it to the old days, where you've got big, exciting fights with drama and anticipation.

"A lot of these safety-first Eastern Europeans have really put a dampener on things, thrown a big, wet blanket over the heavyweight division. I'm looking at lifting that and bringing back some sunshine to the division."

Haye understands and plays the game of modern boxing, like Ricky Hatton understands the game, and like Joe Calzaghe didn't.

Hatton never fought on terrestrial TV, but through putting himself about, crossing the boundaries of his sport, making it impossible for people to ignore him, he made himself one of the most popular sportsmen of his or any other generation.

Calzaghe, a superior fighter to Hatton, never grasped this and spent much of his career feeling unappreciated by the British public. Then as he was on his way out he declared that boxing was dying and bereft of stars, failing to see that he could have done far more to save it.

"I'm the next big thing in the heavyweight division and after I beat Valuev people will be baying for unification fights with the Klitschko brothers," says Haye.

"I give the British public what they want. I don't rest on my laurels. The British public see that and appreciate it."

Whether you want to see Haye slay the giant or be torn limb from limb, the chances are you want to see it. Haye's just playing the game, and it's working just fine.

As well as my blogs, you can follow me when I'm out and about in Nuremberg at http://twitter.com/bendirs1

Don King once said that only when he touched Nikolay Valuev would he believe he existed. So what if he'd seen him on TV, explained the American promoter, he'd seen Bigfoot on TV too, and that turned out to be fake.

The mythology surrounding the Russian, who defends his WBA heavyweight crown against Britain's David Haye in Nuremberg on Saturday, is as dense and matted as the fur that covers his 7ft frame.

While Haye has been busy boosting pay-per-view sales in the build-up to the fight, shouting his mouth off to anyone who'll listen, the 36-year-old Valuev, assured of his money up front, has been tucked away in his forest training camp just outside Berlin. Keeping schtum, rarely sighted, his legend becoming denser.

But that's not to say his appearance isn't arresting. When former foe John Ruiz said Valuev had a head the size of a Volkswagen, I'd assumed he meant a Golf rather than a four-berth camper. A huge dome tumbling sharply downwards before flattening out and rising into two craggy outcrops, below which shelter his eyes, it looks more like a cliff-top promontory.

To say he is softly spoken would be disingenuous - if caves could talk, they'd sound like him - but his delivery is gentle and noticeably without malice, as befits a man who wooed his wife with self-penned poetry and reads the Russian classics.

"As a person he's very gentle and generous to the people around him," his promoter Wilfried Sauerland told BBC Sport. "And he loves his family, that's the most important thing for him."

Valuev was born in Leningrad (now St Petersburg) to Sergei and Nadezhda, both of whom were only 5ft 5in tall. His grandmother says Valuev's size derives from his great-great-grandfather, who was descended from the Tatars, an ancient Asiatic warrior tribe, although it could just be another layer of myth.

By the age of 12, Valuev was already 6ft 4in tall, and he was duly packed off to a school that specialised in sport. There he excelled at basketball, before broadening his horizons and winning a national junior discus title at the age of 19.

After taking up boxing at the age of 20, Valuev passed through the hands of several promoters, who paraded him across the globe as a "special attraction", or what Haye might call "a circus show freak".

He fought in cities as far afield as London, Sydney, Tokyo and Prague before Sauerland saw something in him that others didn't and took him under his wing.

"When we took him over in 2003, a lot of people had given up on him already, but we saw some potential," says Sauerland, who has based Valuev in Germany ever since.

"With proper training and good sparring we saw steady improvements. Of course with his height he's something special and that's how people recognise him, but we also tried to give him the skills to succeed as a boxer."

"Everything changed when I began with Wilfried Sauerland," says Valuev. "He showed me respect as a boxer and helped me become more professional."

But even when Valuev claimed the WBA crown from Ruiz in December 2005, it wasn't enough to convince some American pressmen of his credentials, and they were quick to label him a modern-day Primo Carnera.

The tragic Carnera, who stood a mere 6ft 5in, was brought to the United States from Italy in the 1930s, where the mobsters who ran so much of boxing at that time fixed it for him to win the world heavyweight crown.

Carnera defended his title twice before being floored 11 times in 11 rounds by Max Baer and finding himself burglarised and abandoned by those who'd 'discovered' him.

Comparisons with "The Ambling Alp" have not been helpful for Valuev, who continues to be viewed by many as a human oddity rather than a world-class boxer.

But call him what you will - The Jolly Red Giant, the Beast from the East, Shrek - 50 wins from 51 fights suggests he has been doing some things right.

"I am not a circus show, I am a human being," Valuev once opined, sounding like a sympathetic monster in a 1950's B movie. On Saturday, Haye will find out whether the man is as potent as the myth.

As well as my blogs, you can follow me when I'm out and about in Nuremberg at http://twitter.com/bendirs1

"You can't train for someone who's 7ft tall, there's no 100% correct way to do it," Londoner Haye, who is challenging for Nikolay Valuev's WBA belt, told BBC Sport. "I've never had to do it before. I can only tell you after the fight whether it was the right thing or not."

Valuev stands nine inches taller than Haye and the Russian will enter the ring approximately 100lbs, or just over seven stone, heavier. Former Valuev foe John Ruiz likened his head to a Volkswagen. Ruslan Chagaev, the only man to beat him in 51 fights, said it was "like hitting a heavy bag in the gym - only heavier".

A man conceding similar advantages in height and weight to Haye would be roughly the size of a peak Leo Sayer. It's sobering stuff - although spare a thought for Alarim Uysal, the Turk who fought Valuev back in 1997. Giving away 159lb - or a prime Marvin Hagler - he was stopped in the second round and hardly fought again.

As Chagaev proved in 2007, however, the giant can be slain. A 46-year-old Evander Holyfield proved it again last December, although he was robbed of the decision. Holyfield was pretty poor that night, but Valuev was poorer. It's just that the ringside judges were watching a different fight.

"Haye should concentrate on his speed, moving in and out, hitting and moving, like I did," Chagaev, who poked and chiselled out a narrow decision in Stuttgart, told BBC Sport. "You need to be fast and have good movement, but David has the same skills as me."

Chagaev, who at 6ft 1in is two inches shorter than Haye, spent the early rounds casing the almighty joint towering over him and formulating a plan. Valuev being the 'home' fighter (his promoters are German), such a strategy, potentially costing rounds, has obvious risks. But it's a strategy Haye would be advised to copy, rather than going in all guns blazing.

"He's got the advantage of being able to do exactly what he's always done," admits Haye. "I'm going to have to do things in this fight I've never done before. I'll have to make some adjustments, but I'm good at adapting to opponents and figuring things out once I'm there."

While there are lessons to be learned from Chagaev - the incessant circling, the hitting and moving, the lefts over the low right hand - his win was, to a large degree, down to Valuev's inability to get to grips with his southpaw stance.

Haye, right-handed like Holyfield, will take greater heart from the efforts of the former four-time world heavyweight champion and, like Haye, former cruiserweight king.

"He's got to be aggressive," Holyfield, who was anything but when he fought Valuev, told BBC Sport. "But if you move in slow, he's going to catch you with the big right hand.

Evander Holyfield scores with a jab during his December 2008 contest with Valuev

"You've got to slip your head and get in real quick. I made him reach for me, so that any time he had to lean in and step to jab, his head came down and he was easier to hit.

"Once he gets that punch out there, he's not terribly fast, so if you slip that shot, you come in aggressive and swing for his head. Then you hit him with a couple of shots, get back out and keep doing the same thing.

"It's a boring type of fight, but it's the way you're going to get him. It's not difficult, you just have to have the patience and keep on moving. Keep moving, keep moving, keep moving. Because if he sees you coming, he's going to drop the big right hand.

"If you watch my fight against him (you can do just that on YouTube), I hit him two or three times and moved sideways, and for him to get round takes a lot of energy.

"So he's always cautious because when I hit and move to the side he has to turn that big body of his and he ends up going round in circles and is never able to set his feet."

At 29, Haye's lateral movement should be a good deal more fluid than Holyfield's, and his hands should be far quicker too. But Holyfield believes striking the right balance between patience and aggression will be the key to Haye winning the fight.

"If you put too much pressure on yourself trying to knock a big buy like that out you're going to telegraph the punches and it's going to be easy for him to hit you," adds Holyfield.

"You're going to shoot yourself out of gas and he's going to pick you off. That's a desperate way to fight."

Haye doesn't have to fight desperate to beat Valuev, because Valuev, for all his might, really isn't that good. Slow, cumbersome, poor at pressing, Haye has the tools to beat him, even without a slingshot. But only if he can control those gung-ho urges.

For if there is a question mark hanging over Haye, it concerns his chin. Valuev mercifully doesn't punch his weight - if he did, boxing would probably have been banned some time ago - but he still hits hard enough to floor rivals with jabs, as he demonstrated against Monte Barrett in 2006.

It has to be hoped Haye will use Holyfield as a template, only crank up the energy a couple of notches and throw considerably more punches. He'll just have to hope the judges don't have an off night again.

Throw caution to the wind, stand and trade, and he could go the way of Barrett, careening round the ring like a truck with a blowout. Goliath, the "circus show freak", would have had his revenge.

As well as my blogs, you can follow me when I'm out and about in Nuremberg at http://twitter.com/bendirs1

At times the contest resembled two drunks fighting over a hotdog on a fairground waltzer, the American challenger by turns pirouetting with hands held high, clutching round the waist and staggering weak-kneed to the canvas. Anything to keep Froch's mitts off his imaginary snack.

There are those who will lay the blame for this ug-fest squarely at the feet of Dirrell, who, they will argue, spent the early hours of Sunday morning running like a girl instead of fronting up like a man.

"He brought negativity and that negativity makes for a difficult night for anybody in the world," said the 32-year-old Froch, who was making the second defence of his WBC super-middleweight crown.

"That's not what fighting's about, fighting's about standing in front of somebody and taking risks. I'm a warrior and I like an opponent to sit there and trade and fight."

This is a rather perverse take on proceedings. I'm sure every fighter Floyd Mayweather has ever faced would have preferred him to "trade and fight", but that crafty so and so will insist on relying on dastardly tricks instead.

"The sport is boxing and Andre Dirrell is a superior boxer and should get credit for that," opined Dirrell's manager Gary Shaw, while admitting the result could have gone either way.

"His movement round the ring may not be pleasing to Carl because he wants someone to stand dead in front of him so he can knock their lights out."

The irony is that when Dirrell did throw caution to the wind after being deducted a point for holding in round 10, he was able to land pretty much at will with his flashing left fist.
As Shaw admitted, "we kept telling him to box, but after watching him in rounds 10, 11 and 12, trading with Froch, maybe we should have traded from round one."

It is difficult to remember a more difficult fight to score, with the judges agreeing unanimously on just four rounds and journalists ringside similarly divided. The chap next to me had Froch five rounds up, the one in front had it a draw. In case anyone's interested, I had Dirrell one round to the good.

What everyone seemed to agree on was that Froch will need to be vastly improved if he is to beat Denmark's Mikkel Kessler when the two men meet in the second round of the Super Six tournament.

True, Kessler will, as Froch put it, "stand and fight rather than hold and moan". But, as he showed against Joe Calzaghe in 2007, the WBA champion also has ring smarts in abundance.

Over in Berlin, lightning did strike twice for Jermain Taylor, who was knocked out with 14 seconds to go by Arthur Abraham, just as he was by Froch in April.

Germany's Abraham may have entered the ring dressed as the White Witch from The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, but he boxed like Aslan, surely putting Taylor's future in the Super Six in doubt with the devastating nature of his victory.

The American has now lost four of his last five fights, three by way of knockout, and the wisdom of sending him out for two more high-end encounters looks questionable to say the least. Where his withdrawal would leave the Super Six is anyone's guess.

It is easy to snigger at the Germans for their choice of Scorpions as pre-fight nibbles in Berlin, but what Froch's 8,500 fans at the Trent FM Arena would have given for a spot of Wind of Change. Someone playing the spoons, a bearded lady. A spot of anything.

"It's a privilege and an honour to have them turning up at two o'clock in the morning to watch me," said Froch after his fight, but you wouldn't have known it given the fare his faithful were served up prior to the main event.

If watching an Ultimate Fighting show is like squatting inside the head of an American college jock after 15 turbo shandies, then the average boxing show in Britain is like squatting inside the head of an inebriated grandad dozing in front of the fire: "Someone give me a nudge when the fight starts."

If you are going to lock people in at 11pm for a main event that might not start until well past 2am, then you should provide them with an attractive undercard (the gap between chief support, an English title fight, and main event was more than an hour) or some alternative entertainment. Something other than very expensive lager and £4 for what appeared to be a chicken nugget in a bun.

And is it beyond the wit of those that run the venue to open a couple of doors and rope off an area for the benefit of us poor saps still under the thumb of the demon weed? The alternative is toilets that resemble submarines after a depth charge.

Of course, this is not Froch's fault, but as he himself pointed out, he's fighting in a "difficult economic climate". People are paying top-dollar to watch him in action, they deserve to be treated better. Or they might not be back.

Having been forced to sit through his performances to date on Strictly, it is doubtful he feels the same way about missing the vintage mid-Noughties era of Gough, Dawson and Ramprakash, that legendary triumvirate of the lacquered floorboard.

But in refusing to cave in to Carl Froch's increasingly shrill demands for a match-up in the twilight of his career, Welshman Calzaghe unwittingly (or wittingly?) transferred his frustrations to the Nottingham fighter, who remains criminally undervalued in his own country, despite his status as the WBC super-middleweight champion.

"Dirrell (left) has done most of the trash-talking in the build-up to the fight

Minutes after sealing victory over a former undisputed middleweight champion in the American's own backyard, and still Froch, consciously or otherwise, realised only victory over Calzaghe would deliver him the attention and respect of the wider British public.

On Saturday at the Trent FM Arena in Nottingham, Froch defends his title against 27-year-old American Andre Dirrell, a bronze medallist at the 2004 Olympics and the man who is fulfilling the role of 'dark horse' in the innovative Super Six tournament masterminded by American broadcaster Showtime.

Froch's promoter Mick Hennessy has complained "broadcasters should be rugby tackling us" to screen his charge's fights, but they're not biting. His ding-dong with Taylor was streamed on the internet, his match with Dirrell is on fledgling satellite channel Primetime.

And having finally accepted that Calzaghe will not be providing a leg-up to greatness, Froch is hoping Dirrell will be the first step on the path to the recognition he and others in the fight game feel he deserves.

The Super Six concept is that rare thing, a triumph of common sense and concord in boxing. The negotiation phase must have made 12 Angry Men look as fractious as the judging process at an unusually-shaped vegetable competition, but somehow the managers of the six participating fighters rose above any differences and came up trumps.

The tournament is set to last two years and involves all six combatants fighting three times in a round-robin format before the top four go through to the semi-final stage and then the final. Who goes through to the semi-finals will be decided on points, with three points awarded for a knockout victory, two for a decision and one for a draw.

The fact a fighter can advance to the semi-finals with a loss on his record provides a safety net, but, to look at it another way, it also negates the dire consequences of a blemish on the record, the bete noire of the modern boxer. Top marks for a knockout should also ensure exciting fights.

Those responsible for the format deserve a pat on the back, and you don't often say that about those in charge of the sport. Just don't pat them too hard: not being used to it, they may think they've been shot.

Similar has been tried before, most recently in 2001, when Bernard Hopkins defeated Felix Trinidad in the final of a four-man, single elimination middleweight tournament which was the brainchild of Don King.

Hopkins' victory left no-one in any doubt as to who the main man in the middleweight division was and set him on the path to greatness. And it provided what is so often missing from boxing and what boxing fans crave more than anything: clarity.

With six men throwing a combined 163-4-1 record into the ring, with three world champions (Froch, WBA title-holder Mikkel Kessler and IBF middleweight champion Arthur Abraham) and two undefeated Olympic medallists (Dirrell and Andre Ward) in the mix, no-one should be in any doubt as to who the best super-middleweight in the world is when all is said and done.

The second part of Saturday's Super Six double-header will be Taylor v Abraham in Berlin, but it's Kessler, who opens up against Ward on 21 November, who is favourite to be last man standing.

Kessler gave Calzaghe one of his toughest fights in 2007, and perhaps only in defeating the Dane in the tournament final will Froch score himself onto the nations' consciousness.

Dirrell, who is unbeaten in 18 fights with 13 knockouts, will pose problems with his speed, as Taylor did for most of his encounter with Froch.

But Froch has a sturdy beard, hits hard and, as he proved in defeating Jean Pascal in 2008 to claim his world title and stopping Taylor with just 14 seconds to go when behind on the scorecards, has perhaps the biggest heart of any British fighter since Eubank.

Froch is right to be frustrated. He should be a household name, only the vagaries of his sport decree that he isn't. But you never know, victory in the Super Six might just budge "Old Joe" from his armchair and send him scurrying under the stairs for his boxing boots again.

Andrew Strauss 7 - The England skipper was a rock at the top of the order during the Ashes series and he took that form into the one-dayers. A couple of fifties at the Rose Bowl and Lord's, although he will be disappointed he didn't convert those into hundreds.

Ravi Bopara 4 - Seven opportunities to shine, and he managed a high score of only 49. Technically he's all over the place at the moment, his running between the wickets is skittish, and it is difficult to see how the selectors can continue to pick him.

Joe Denly 6 - Missed the start of the series because of a freak warm-up injury, but showed plenty of potential when he did finally get a run. His 53 at the Riverside included some very assured strokes.

Paul Collingwood 5 - Looked horribly out of nick in the Ashes series and there wasn't much to suggest he'd solved his problems in the four one-dayers he played. Did manage a fifty at Lord's, but took just three wickets in the series. Remains the team's best fielder.

Eoin Morgan 4 - One fifty in six games for the Middlesex man, although he did show some nice touches at other times. Has a touch of Neil Fairbrother about him, although yet to prove he is in the former Lancashire man's class.

Matt Prior 4 - Scored just 112 runs in seven games, with a highest score of 37. For a man who can look very classy at times, that's not much of a tally. Continues to impress behind the stumps, which is just as well.

Luke Wright 4 - The Sussex all-rounder hardly set the world alight with the bat and took just three wickets in four games. A spiky presence in the England line-up, but England need more than just spiky characters, they need top-class batsmen and bowlers.

Stuart Broad 3 - Only three matches for the Nottinghamshire all-rounder, and he was hampered by injury. England need him firing on all cylinders at the Champions Trophy.

Tim Bresnan 5 - Ploughed through 50.5 overs in his six matches for six wickets. Very game, as demonstrated by his fighting 31 not out in a losing cause at Trent Bridge, but it is difficult to imagine the world's best batsmen having nightmares about his bowling.

Graeme Swann 6 - Only four wickets in four matches before his five-for in Durham, and he managed just 33 runs in four innings. However, was England's highest wicket-taker and also topped the averages. Still his country's premier spinner.

Adil Rashid 5 - The young Yorkshire leg-spinner showed much promise with bat and ball at The Oval, before being mysteriously left out of the side. When he was recalled, Australia's batsmen went after him and he no longer looked so assured.

Dimitri Mascarenhas 3 - Only two matches for the Hampshire all-rounder and he failed to stake a claim for a permanent place in the side. Like Luke Wright, falls into category of a "bits and pieces" cricketer, leaving you wondering if he offers enough with either bat or ball.

Ryan Sidebottom 3 - Managed just three wickets in six games before being dropped for the final match in Durham, which England won. His form is a worry for the England selectors ahead of the Champions Trophy.

James Anderson 6 - Took 4-55 in the sixth game at Trent Bridge after being rested for two engagements and looked sprightly enough in the final game in Durham, suggesting his dip in form was largely down to fatigue. England will need him in form in South Africa.

Graham Onions 7 - Only one game for the Durham seamer and he bowled well when given his chance in the final encounter. May have done enough to cement a place in the side at the Champions Trophy.

When it comes to certain topics, drivers of black cabs are social barometers, canaries down the mine, except angrier. And when cabbies have stopped chirping about boxing, you know the sport must be in trouble.

So when my cabbie the other night announced that he didn't know who David Haye was, I was understandably shocked, to the extent that my cabbie felt the need to apologise. "Sorry mate, dunno who he is. Used to love a bit of boxing, but it's not on TV any more. Is it?" Haye, in case anyone doesn't know, is the best heavyweight boxer in Britain.

Floyd Mayweather is a former five-weight world champion - but not boxing's Bolt

Floyd Mayweather may return to action this weekend after a 21-month hiatus, up against the flinty Mexican Juan Manuel Marquez in Las Vegas, but then Mayweather never has been the crossover star boxing craved. A rare talent, no doubt, but boxing's Usain Bolt? Well, for starters, boxing's Bolt will likely be twice Pretty Boy's size.

It's always the heavyweights who are tasked with 'saving' boxing: Joe Louis in the '30s, Muhammad Ali in the '60s, Mike Tyson in the '80s. Similarly, athletics has usually looked to its sprinters to project the sport above and beyond the track: Jesse Owens, 'Bullet' Bob Hayes, Carl Lewis. But athletics has suffered a stark reversal of fortunes since Lewis' day.

Ben Johnson effectively spiked the Holy Grail, although there were others before him, and marquee sprinters have been choking on the chalice ever since.

Lewis himself was implicated after his retirement, although he has always protested his innocence. Britain's Linford Christie, the 1992 Olympic champion, was subsequently banned for two years for doping. Justin Gatlin, the 2004 Olympic champion, is currently serving a four-year ban. Tim Montgomery, a former world record holder, was also caught out and is now the fastest man in the exercise yard after a conviction for fraud and heroin distribution.

Bolt is a triple world and Olympic champion, and one of the most marketable sportsmen in the world

Boxing has been brought low by those that run the game, rather than its participants, the public dazed and confused by a dizzying lack of clarity. Too many belts, too many weights, not enough television coverage. Who's the best? No-one really knows, not even the best themselves, because the best too rarely fight each other.

The heavyweight division is even more depressing than sprinting was before Bolt burst onto the scene in a hail of imaginary arrows. The crop of sub-10 second 100m runners never failed, unlike the crop of top-class heavyweight boxers, which appears to have been almost entirely destroyed, in the United States at least.

The Klitschko brothers, Wladimir and Vitali, are fine fighters and, by virtue of their various humanitarian efforts, fine people. Unfortunately, both are artisans rather than artists in the ring, and, perhaps more importantly, they're not American.

Athletics is one of the few truly global sports, but boxing's spiritual home, at least since gloves were donned, is the United States. The first gloved heavyweight champion, John L Sullivan, was American; so too the first black heavyweight champion, Jack Johnson; Joe Louis 'fought' the Nazis in the ring; Muhammad Ali was quite simply 'The Greatest', and every great heavyweight champion since has been American, with the honourable exception of Britain's Lennox Lewis.

Only the Americans have the necessary know-how to turn things round, to unearth a gem and polish it so hard that the rest of the world is dazzled. Because boxing in the United States has been low before, although, admittedly, never as low as this.

As far back as the 1950s, venerable boxing writer AJ Liebling considered that he was covering a sport in terminal decline. "There exist certain generalised conditions today," wrote Liebling in 1952, "like full employment and a late school leaving age, that militate against the development of first-rate professional boxers."

When the newly-monikered Ali defended his heavyweight crown against the little-loved Sonny Liston in Lewiston, Maine in 1965, just 2,434 fans were present, the lowest attendance for a heavyweight title fight.

Tyson, difficult as it is to believe now, was considered the sport's deliverer when he was rampaging across a parched heavyweight landscape in the 1980s like some crazed bull. The glamour of Leonard, Hagler, Hearns and Duran fading fast, replaced by the captivating menace of the 'baddest man on the planet'.

Boxing could do with a more benign saviour this time, although some of Tyson's fury in the ring wouldn't go amiss: to most fans, heavyweight boxing without the knockouts is like football without the goals or cricket without the wickets.

But the key thing is charisma, something Bolt has in spades. The Jamaican runs very fast, but he looks joyous doing it. He wins world and Olympic titles while mucking about. They say he's thinking about switching to the long jump. I wonder if he could be persuaded to strap on the gloves instead?

It would be foolish to consider Bolt as a panacea, the tracts of empty seats at the World Championships in Berlin last month revealed he is not. But, while papering over the cracks to a certain extent, he is pulling in punters and TV viewers who would otherwise have stayed away. Punters who, when Bolt isn't strutting his stuff, might find themselves wooed by a Kenenisa Bekele or a Yelena Isinbayeva instead.

The audience for boxing never went away - there will always be plenty of people across the globe who like watching two men trade punches, that's just the way many of us humans are hard-wired. The sport just needs a Bolt to remind us exactly how thrilling it can be.

When Bolt smashed the 200m world record in Beijing last year, he proclaimed that he'd "blown the world's mind". It was like a distant echo of the past, replicating, deliberately or not, Cassius Clay's "I shook up the world" after his victory over Liston for the world heavyweight crown in 1964.

Bolt gives fans of boxing hope - indeed he gives fans of any struggling sport hope - that however moribund their sport might appear, lightning might be about to strike.

Theatre is an entertainment. On the evidence of Tuesday night at Old Trafford, international cricket considers itself otherwise. How else to explain the latest farcical episode in the sport? Twenty thousand paying customers and the highlight was a middle-aged ex-cricketer periodically poking his umbrella into a circle of mud.

Twenty thousand paying customers frustrated by a couple of circles of mud - it's worth repeating. Why those circles of mud were there, we'll come back to later.

"This is an international Twenty20 match," said England skipper Paul Collingwood after the abandonment, the second in three days at the same ground. "If the
conditions are unfit you have to make a brave stance."

"There's no game I play for Australia where you go out and bowl some full tosses so the crowd get a great spectacle," said Aussie skipper Michael Clarke. "The ground just wasn't fit enough to play and both teams are disappointed."

The inference is that international cricket exists in a vacuum, for its own sake, above and beyond vulgar entertainment. How brave, I wonder, did those 20,000 paying customers find the decision to pull stumps without a ball being bowled?

The brave stance would have been to put the risks to one side, agree to bowl spinners, tell the pacemen to shorten their run-ups. Former Aussie speedster Jeff Thomson reckoned there was nothing wrong with the pitch. Former Aussie batsman Greg Blewett advised them to play in football boots. Shane Warne suggested they bowl from one end. Ridiculous? Try telling that to the 20,000 paying customers.

"If Brett Lee was running up to bowl, I can't imagine it being safe enough," added Clarke.

Why not tell Brett Lee he's not going to bowl? It's just a game after all, or am I being hopelessly naive?

When did international cricket become so self-important? If Lancashire chief executive Jim Cumbes is to be believed, it has been a gradual process over the last 30 years. "We would have got out there and played," a clearly upset Cumbes told Sky presenter Paul Allott. "Yes, but things have changed," was the gist of Allott's reply.

Maybe things need to change back.

"We have got to rethink how we treat our public in cricket," added Cumbes, acutely aware that some of those now trudging into the night behind him, caterwauling as they went, might never return.

The irony is, 30 years ago, cricket could probably afford to treat its fans in such an off-hand manner, entrenched as the game was in the nation's consciousness. But in this splintered and cluttered age, with its myriad forms of entertainment, it really can't afford to be so haughty.

Back to those circles of mud, clogging up the bowlers' run-up at the Brian Statham End. When 99% of the pitch was seemingly playable, why was the most important part a sodden mess? Cumbes said the footmarks had sweated under the covers. David Lloyd, the Lancashire great and former England coach, wasn't convinced.

Why, you could also ask, was Manchester awarded both Twenty20 internationals? It tends to rain rather a lot up there, especially in September.

It's been a horrendous few days up at Old Trafford. The ground, currently being redeveloped, is fighting for its international future. There are no Test matches scheduled for the ground until 2013, so it could have done without all this.

Those who made the decision not to play on Tuesday could have done Lancashire a big favour. Instead, they huddled in the pavilion and worried about themselves.

Instead of banging on, I'll read you an email I've just received, and it from a paying customer:

From Rick (Mr Angry in Cheshire): "Do the players and administrators and umpires not know who pays their salaries? The poor old muppets who keep stumping up £40 or £50 + car parking + food + drinks.

"Why not bowl off slightly shorter run-ups? Be creative and come up with some ideas. The whole thing is so badly run. Perhaps the spectators should strike for a few seasons? Apologies for ranting and raving, but this is a disgrace."

I'd wager Rick's not the only Mr Angry out there. The powers that be would do well to think on what he's said.

His batting has blossomed with the responsibility of the captaincy - he scored more runs than anyone else in the series - and he has forged a close and fruitful relationship with coach Andy Flower.

Out-skippered opposite number Ricky Ponting and, aged 32, he could be in charge for some time. Some call his captaincy "conservative", but he's just won back the Ashes - what more could any Englishman want?

Top-class seamers know that if they plough a line outside his off-stump, he's likely to nibble sooner or later. And South Africa, where England will tour this winter, has its fair share of top-class seamers.

Ravi Bopara - 3
Cook's county team-mate had a torrid series, stumbling through the first four Tests before being replaced by Jonathan Trott for the decider at The Oval. When you're averaging below Jimmy Anderson, you know you've had a stinker.

Three tons in a row against West Indies earlier in the summer suggested he might be special, but the Windies aren't Australia and the Wisden Trophy's not the Ashes. Showed his mettle by scoring a double-ton for Essex after being discarded, and the England selectors should keep faith in him this winter.

Ian Bell - 5
Looks classy, just hasn't got it when it matters: it's what people were saying about Bell before the series started, and most won't have changed their minds.

Eked out a fifty on his return to the side at Edgbaston and made a fighting 72 in England's first innings at The Oval. But he's now failed to make a hundred batting at number three in 32 innings, and England's selectors might decide Jonathan Trott is a better bet first wicket down in South Africa.

Kevin Pietersen - 5
The 2009 Ashes was a humbling experience for Pietersen: clearly struggling with injury in the two Tests he played and unable to impose himself, he then had to watch as his team-mates regained the urn without him.

Managed a fifty in Cardiff, but the Aussies had clearly penetrated his head by the time the series had rumbled on to Lord's. Still, he's still England's best batsman and when he's fully fit he'll slot straight back in at number four.

Paul Collingwood - 5
It was the tale of the two Collingwoods in this series. Obdurate in Cardiff, his twin fifties saved England from going 1-0 down. But it rather went downhill from there.

Did manage another fifty at Lord's, but thereafter was a walking wicket, his technique seemingly shot to pieces. With Kevin Pietersen returning in South Africa and Jonathan Trott now a shoo-in, The Oval might be Collingwood's last Test for some time.

Jonathan Trott - 9
It frustrated some, and irritated the Aussies immensely, that England had to turn to a man forged in South Africa in their hour of need. Few will be complaining now.

Came in at awkward times in both innings at The Oval, and glowed in the heat of battle, scoring one of the great debut tons in England's second innings. Looked so assured, he may well be pushed up to number three when he returns to the place of his birth.

Matt Prior - 7
Like football referees, they say you barely notice the best wicketkeepers. That you didn't notice Prior much behind the stumps during the series is the best indicator of how far his glovework has come.

The Sussex man is also a glorious-looking batsman on his day, and contributed some useful knocks here and there, with important fifties at Cardiff and Lord's. No reason to think he won't be on the England scene for a long time to come.

Andrew Flintoff - 6
The statistics will tell you that Flintoff, his body flaking and crumbling like a weathered statue, didn't do a great deal in his final series.

He squeezed out one last match-winning burst at Lord's, but took just eight wickets in four matches at an average of 52.12. He hit just one fifty, at Edgbaston, but when he wasn't there, at Headingley, England got clobbered.

Produced one final conjuring act in the crucial final Test at The Oval, running out a well-set Ricky Ponting to swing the game back in England's direction and just to remind everyone how much we'll miss him when he's gone.

Stuart Broad - 7
Hands up who wanted to drop Broad after Edgbaston? Come on, I know there were more of you than that. Just six wickets in the first three Tests, the school of thought was that you can't keep picking him because he scores a few runs.

However, his exploits with bat and ball in a losing cause in Leeds seemed to galvanise him and he made mugs of his critics with a match-winning blitz at The Oval. Ended up as England's highest wicket-taker, with two half-centuries. "The new Flintoff"? Still only 23, let's wait and see.

Graeme Swann - 7
Perhaps not the impact many were expecting from the Nottinghamshire off-spinner in the first four Tests, but did what he had to do on a turning pitch at The Oval, snaffling eight wickets in the match.

A chirpy, upbeat character, he was an irritant with the bat, scoring a crucial not out in Cardiff, plus fifties at Headingley and Lord's. The only mystery is, why wasn't he in the England set-up earlier?

Jimmy Anderson - 6
Anderson went into the series off the back of a nine-wicket match against West Indies in Durham. The enigma had come of age... or so we thought.

His devastating five-for in Birmingham aside, the Lancashire paceman struggled for swing elsewhere, and therefore struggled to make much of an impression. Wicketless in the final two Tests, although there were suggestions he wasn't fully fit. But let's not forget that match-saving knock in Cardiff.

Graham Onions - 6
The Durham seamer took a very handy four-for at Edgbaston, but was thereafter less effective, managing only a couple of wickets at Headingley, where many thought he might prosper.

Made way for Andrew Flintoff for the crucial final Test, but a useful man to have in and around the squad and should make it on the plane to South Africa.

Steve Harmison - 5
Overlooked for the first four Tests, despite taking a stack of wickets in county cricket, the selectors finally relented only when Andrew Flintoff went lame in Leeds.

However, county scalps are clearly easier to take than Australian ones, and his form at Headingley was depressingly familiar in its mediocrity. Did improve at The Oval, and may have done enough to earn a place on the plane for South Africa - if he wants to go.

Monty Panesar - 4
Courtesy of his match-saving knock in Cardiff, left-arm spinner Panesar can claim he effectively won England the Ashes. Unfortunately, he was in the side for his bowling, and he only managed one wicket.

Eleven first-class wickets this season for the one-time cult hero of English cricket suggests something is seriously amiss. With Yorkshire's Adil Rashid pushing for a place on the winter tour, it is not stretching things to say Panesar's England days might be numbered.

Andrew Strauss - 9 Two crucial fifties, Strauss' batting has blossomed with the extra responsibility of the captaincy. Marshalled his bowlers well and looked calm and flinty as the business end of the series approached.

Alastair Cook - 4 The Essex man has well and truly cemented his reputation as an inveterate nibbler: stick the ball outside his off-stump early in his innings, and it's likely Cook will go looking for it.

Ian Bell - 7 Scrapped well to top-score for England in their first innings, although perhaps should have converted his 72 into a first Ashes hundred. Fell cheaply in the second innings, questions remain over his temperament.

Jonathan Trott - 9 A miraculous debut from the Warwickshire man. Came in at sticky times in both innings, and looked rock-solid on both occasions. Could be England's answer at number three.

Matt Prior - 6 Bamboozled by another Mitchell Johnson slower ball in his first innings, run out for a few in his second. But looked sharp in stumping Marcus North - his work behind the stumps has improved immeasurably.

Andrew Flintoff - 7 Tight with the ball in Australia's first innings, as usual, but clearly not fit. Played a rancid shot to get out in England's first innings, played a classic little cameo in the second. Give him a couple of extra points for that run-out of Ponting.

Stuart Broad - 9 The new Flintoff? Maybe. Magnificent spell with the ball to shatter Australia on Friday and two more classy knocks. Deservedly the man of the match.

Graeme Swann - 9 They said The Oval would turn, it did and Swann made the most of it, snaffling eight wickets in the match. Irritating for the opposition with the bat, with a chirpy manner, Swann grew in stature as the series wore on.

James Anderson - 6 Wicketless in the match, The Oval wasn't really the pitch for the Lancashire paceman. Still, he plugged away and stayed focused, just a shame about that duck.

Steve Harmison - 6 Hardly used in Australia's first innings, but chipped in with late wickets as England went in for the kill. Whether he's done enough to extend his England career will be argued over long and hard.

Australia

Simon Katich - 7 Kept his head amid the carnage in Australia's first innings and also made 43 in their second. Not pretty to watch, but has moulded himself into a very obdurate player. Stunning bit of work at short-leg to get rid of Jonathan Trott on Friday.

Shane Watson - 6 Starts in both innings, but dismissed by a couple decent deliveries from Stuart Broad. As a bowler though, he looks to be shot to pieces.

Ricky Ponting - 5 Out to a poor shot in Australia's first innings and looked mighty nervous. Had looked immovable before falling to the eagle-eyed Andrew Flintoff in the second. The biggest blot, however, was not picking spinner Nathan Hauritz.

Mike Hussey - 9 Magnificent in a losing cause in Australia's second dig. As with Matthew Hayden at The Oval in 2005, was playing for his place, and 'Mr Cricket' came up trumps.

Michael Clarke - 4 Player of the series, but a double failure when it mattered most, although he was the victim of a couple of fine pieces of fielding.

Marcus North - 6 Given out by umpire Asad Rauf in the first innings when he had clearly hit the ball, the victim of a sharp piece of glovework from Matt Prior in the second. However, he did some hard yards with the ball.

Brad Haddin - 4 Cleaned up by a corker from Stuart Broad in the first innings, out playing a poor stroke when his side needed some graft in the second. Some scrappy work behind the timbers, too.

Mitchell Johnson - 5 The enigma of the Australian side. Started the series poorly, looked to be improving, then ended it with something of a whimper. Four wickets, but nowhere near nasty enough.

Peter Siddle - 7 Bowled fast in England's first innings and was rewarded with four wickets, but lacked the same penetration in the second. Showed good spirit with the bat on Friday to at least give his side hope.

Stuart Clark - 4 Few will be feeling as wretched as Clark after defeat at The Oval. Nothing in the pitch for him, and his skipper pretty much admitted he should have played spinner Nathan Hauritz instead after the match was lost.

Ben Hilfenhaus - 5 Bowled well enough in England's first dig, but went round the park on Saturday when Australia dearly needed some control.

And you'll sigh and chuckle, having recalled 'that' over at Edgbaston back in 2005, or his five-for at Lord's in 2009, or his 167 against West Indies in Birmingham in 2004. And you'll find yourself saying, rather patronisingly, "you'll never really understand".

The record books will tell future generations that Flintoff wasn't even the best all-rounder of his time. South Africa's Jacques Kallis, with his 10,000-plus runs, his 31 Test centuries, his 258 wickets, rather swamps Flintoff in terms of cold statistics.

But then the English have never really dealt in cold statistics when it comes to choosing their heroes. Most will take the maverick James Hunt over the monochrome Nigel Mansell; the lavishly gifted but fatally flawed Jimmy White over Steve Davis, the cold-blooded winner; "daft as a brush" Gazza over Brand Beckham.

Indeed, Seve Ballesteros, the winner of five majors, elicits more love from the English public than Nick Faldo, winner of six majors and arguably his country's greatest ever individual sportsman. And perhaps that could only happen in England.

In his book Men of Honour: Trafalgar and the Making of the English Hero, historian Adam Nicolson describes how Admiral Lord Nelson, one of England's first celebrities, provided the template for the English hero as we now recognise him.

The masses in early 19th Century England revelled in Nelson's "sense of daring and totality in his style of battle", just as the English public embraced Flintoff's exuberance, his dash, his swashbuckling vigour. For 'The Nelson Touch', read 'The Flintoff Touch'.

Just as you can imagine Faldo as a dueller in a frosty glade, walking 10 paces before turning and shooting his opponent between the eyes, you can picture Flintoff leaping between a ship's rigging, sword drawn, masts burning overhead, blood and gore spattered all around him.

Flintoff at his best was brutal, destructive, whether with bat or with ball. His twin fifties against Australia at Edgbaston in 2005 included nine sixes and shook the old enemy to the core.

In between, Flintoff sent down one of the most furious overs in Test history: Justin Langer's furniture smashed to pieces, Ricky Ponting confounded by a fizzing leg-cutter. Here, the Aussies must have thought, was Ian Botham reincarnate.

While Flintoff's critics complained about his too-short length and his lack of five-wicket hauls, opponents let it be known that there were few more dangerous foes in world cricket.

"You look through his bare statistics and they probably don't read that flatteringly, but he has an impact on how that team plays and performs," said Ponting when Flintoff announced his retirement from Test cricket last month.

"For that impact he has to be right up there. He just seems to be one of those guys that everyone really enjoys playing with."

Like Nelson, indeed like Botham, Flintoff is rough-hewn rather than polished; a little coarse, but honest. As a result, he is of the masses rather than apart from them.

Many winced when they saw him swaying drunkenly outside 10 Downing Street in 2005. Others giggled with him. Ashes regained, Flintoff got thoroughly banjaxed, and it's what most people in his position would have done.

"The fans can relate to him, he's the sort of cricketer, who plays as hard on the field as he does off the field," said former England skipper Graham Gooch.

"He's a dying breed. The modern cricketer doesn't fall into that psyche, with all the trainers and off-field staff they have following them. I'm afraid that 'Fred' is the last character to play Test cricket. They are few and far between nowadays."

Alas, 'The Flintoff Touch' didn't always extend to the field of play. Largely as a result of his feats in the 2005 Ashes, England's selectors thought he was the right man to lead his country in the 2006/07 renewal.

"I am now set up for a conjuror," Nelson once opined, "and God knows they will very soon find out I am far from being one."

Flintoff, too, was made human on Australian soil, presiding over a humiliating 5-0 drubbing. While his troops let him down, the conclusion was that he was more effective at the spear point than directing from the rear.

Flintoff, like Botham, became less effective with age, his body poorly designed to deal with the rigours of modern international cricket. He managed to squeeze out one last match-winning spurt at Lord's last month and hit a clunking fifty at Edgbaston.

When he was forced to sit out the fourth Ashes Test at Headingley, England duly got clobbered. Then, back in the side for the decider at The Oval, he was overshadowed by the man people are already calling the "new Flintoff", Stuart Broad.

But, like a petulant schoolboy starved of attention, Freddie wanted one last "look at me moment", and he provided it with his scintillating run-out of Ponting, one final match-turning moment.

The comparisons with Botham are inevitable. On their day, both men could be devastating with bat or ball. Both men challenged the establishment with their off-field behaviour. Both men inspired the love of the masses, Flintoff maybe even more so.

Botham will go down as the greater player, his stats alone attest to that. But the simple fact the question "where's the next Botham" is asked no longer illustrates just how good Flintoff was.

My abiding memory of Flintoff won't be of him stooping to shake Brett Lee's hand at Edgbaston in 2005, as emblematic of the man as that photograph is.

It will be of Flintoff in post-wicket-taking stance in that same series: arms and legs spread wide, chest puffed out, as if every sinew in his body was straining to soak up the adoration of his fans.

They say that even Australian children were striking the 'Freddie' pose that glorious summer. And that is perhaps the ultimate mark of the man.

Flintoff, labouring like a busted carthorse, knew he wasn't going to conjure anything with his bowling in his final Test, so he decided to conjure something in the field instead. Pipe down, Broady, I'm not done just yet.

It could be said that England regained the Ashes by less than an inch. The run-out of Ricky Ponting by Flintoff, that of Michael Clarke by Andrew Strauss, the stumping of Marcus North by Matt Prior, such is the infinitesimal dividing line between glory and failure, in this bonkers series at least.

England's fans had been getting twitchy. Former skipper Graham Gooch, with Australia, chasing 546, on 217-2, thought they might just do it. But he hadn't factored in Flintoff's gargantuan ego.

Australia captain Ponting, playing perhaps his final innings on English soil, had been looking immovable, a colossal boulder blocking the path to England's Ashes glory. It was going to take an almighty shove to move him. But that's what Flintoff does, provide almighty shoves.

Everything about the run-out of Ponting was beautiful, from an England point of view. The stalk, the stoop, the throw, as if Flintoff was skimming a stone. One stump cartwheeling. Ponting out by almost nothing - the littler the better.

The Oval crowd gave Ponting a standing ovation, proving what many had been saying all along, that all that booing and stuff was just banter. Nothing to get too worked up about, your common or garden England fan just likes a spot of panto, they can be reverential when they want to.

There were a couple of, frankly, hilarious articles in the Aussie media on Saturday bemoaning the state of The Oval pitch. Tough to bat on, yes, but the journalists in question seemed to have failed to notice the three scores of more than 300. Not the groundsman's fault Australia horlicksed it all up in the space of a couple of hours on Friday.

So dry you could almost hear it groaning for water, Mike Hussey made hay on a charred Oval deck, getting his nose to the grindstone and shaping a magnificent ton.

Again, when Hussey and Haddin put on 91 for the sixth wicket, you thought Australia might achieve the impossible. Then Haddin clipped Graeme Swann to Strauss at mid-wicket and England's fans could breathe again.

Any unwitting American tourists strolling through south London would have got a fearful start when the final wicket fell. "Not sure honey, must be some kind of rock concert." The England players ran in circles, not entirely sure what they should do or where they were heading. That's what beating Australia does to you.

Swann it was, ploughing through 40.2 overs in Australia's second innings and taking eight wickets in the match, who polished things off. Meanwhile, Nathan Hauritz, Australia's front-line spinner, was given five days off.

Baffling decision by Ponting, and you have to say he has been out-captained in this series. The first Australian to lose two Ashes series on English soil since Billy Murdoch in 1890. Murdoch ended up playing for England. I wonder would Ponting consider doing the same? It would certainly solve England's problems at number three.

Ponting didn't have much luck, with Brett Lee injured, Mitchell Johnson misfiring and the rain playing a part in Cardiff. Some in the Aussie media will be calling for his head. The heat will be intense. Don't worry, Ricky, at least the English public seems to have warmed to you.

As Ponting pointed out after the match was over, people will look at the player statistics and averages in years to come and be baffled. But he was big enough to admit that England had won the "big moments" and were the worthy winners.

As Strauss had it, "when we were bad we were very bad, and when we were good we managed to be good enough".

Big moments, so many big moments... that final day in Cardiff, Flintoff's spell at Lord's, Stuart Broad's blitz at The Oval on Friday, Jonathan Trott's nuggety ton.

Trott's very inclusion was testament to cool heads in the England hierarchy. With others screaming for Mark Ramprakash and Robert Key after the debacle at Headingley, Strauss and coach Andy Flower stared the melodramatics down and dealt them the Warwickshire rock instead.

Strauss, occasionally Lord Brocket to his team-mates, has gravel in his guts, despite the unthreatening public school exterior. Most of the best Aussie skippers are gnarled and leathery, just as most of the best England skippers are slightly refined.

Strauss took on the toughest job in sport with England in chaos after the Kevin Pietersen-Peter Moores affair. But, with the understated touch of a Brearley, he has steered them out of the storm and onto the promised land.

There are still cracks in this England side, make no mistake. But their fans won't care a jot at the moment. If I were you I'd join the England boys for a couple of beers. You've all had a fright. It's been another scary old series.