To be precise, it was a Twenty20 international, the first played in this country, and England beat Australia . . . hang on, let’s have that again, only slowly. England . . . beat . . . Australia . . . by . . . 100 . . . runs.

God, it was a one-sided bore. Might as well have been playing Bangladesh. Australia, replying to England’s 179 for eight, slithered to 31 for seven, with Darren Gough taking three wickets and the entire England side looking as if they ate Australians for breakfast — or a light late supper — as a matter of routine. The sun shone and the beer flowed and England looked into Australia’s eyes and didn’t blink. So despite all the nonsense that went down last night, the summer’s dreams need not be abandoned just yet.

Both sides played as if they hated to lose, but as if neither got much practice at doing so. It was a great eyeballing, chest-prodding, finger-pointing build-up to the serious punch-ups that follow. If we get the same weather and the same attitude until autumn, it will be something to savour.

England have been guilty in the past of all kinds of snobbishness about shortened forms of the game and were once accused in Wisden of entering a World Cup held in this country like a granny entering a rave. Twenty20 is cricket’s latest attempt to become a rave. But England playing Australia at anything is never to be taken lightly, as Sven-Göran Eriksson is in a very good position to tell us, managing the England football team to defeat in what he misguidedly thought was a friendly.

Last night at the Rose Bowl, outside Southampton, was a matter of outposts, but it was as friendly as Clint riding into town. Every nuance mattered, for the sake of the night and for the sake of the months ahead. It was a bit like watching two angry men, both ready to fight but neither wishing to put himself to the disadvantage of striking the first blow. “Don’t start me!” they roared like bulls. “Don’t ****ing start me!” Brett Lee set the tone for the summer with a memorably belligerent first over, slinging the ball through in excess of 90mph: a summer’s overture, not without chin music and certainly allegro con brio. Marcus Trescothick responded with a series of mighty biffs. It was a contest and that, for the moment, seemed good enough.

All the same, cricket continues to be the Great Disappearing Game. Once England and Australia played timeless Tests; now we could get an entire series into a week and still have the weekend off. The Ashes in 2½ hours: it has all the dignity and depth of the Monty Python Summarise Proust Competition.

Perhaps I should summarise Twenty20 cricket. The secret of the game is this: to build partnerships and to take wickets. Slice it any way you will, that is the secret of all cricket, from the longest and most timeless Test ever played to the events of yesterday evening.

And so, on fast forward, England gave us Trescothick and Kevin Pietersen, and later Andrew Strauss and Paul Collingwood. The terse sentences of the partnerships were punctuated by exclamation points of wickets, with all bowlers reaching surreal figures: unnatural punishment and unnatural reward. Glenn McGrath, wouldn’t you know it, was the best of them, mean and disciplined and Pomresenting as ever, finishing with three for 31 off four overs, the maximum allowed. Lee, for all his menace, took none for 31 off three. That’s him disheartened for the rest of the summer, then.

It was a very decent effort from England, though it was never going to send the Aussies homeward tae think again. The rhythms of Twenty20 have something in common with grass-court tennis: lose concentration for a couple of minutes and you suddenly notice you have lost the game.

Speeding things up is supposed to be a good thing for those of short concentration spans. In fact, Twenty20 demands very hard concentration from spectators. That trait is still more important for players and Australia had a lapse in Gough’s second over, losing two wickets in successive balls. Gough’s strut is now the strongest part of his game, but it bloody well works. When Michael Clarke went in the next over, three wickets had fallen in four balls.

It was a lightning-quick passage of play, the sort of thing that almost makes you think that it’s an easy game. Savour the illusion; but there could be other things to savour as summer unrolls before us.

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