First a Wimbledon that brought back all those memories of Henmania: now the Ashes, and the still-burning race-memories of 2005.

I'm sure we all remember the last time - Ashes tends to be a Fever rather than a Mania - but it is no less acute. And if the presiding memory of the Henman years was anxiety, the dominant memory of that last home Ashes series was frustration.

Once the first Test had been played and lost, England were better than Australia in every department. They just didn't quite believe it. As a result, they found it almost impossible to finish Australia off. They'd have 'em down on the floor and helpless and then, time and again, they would allow them to get up and start swinging again.

It all comes down to names. Names and reputations. Australia had Glenn McGrath, Matthew Hayden, Adam Gilchrist, Ricky Ponting, and above all, they had Shane Warne.

Just reading the team-sheet was an exercise in mental disintegration. It must have felt like lining up against Zeus and Apollo and Poseidon: there was a feeling that you are not supposed to win against such names.

But they've just about all gone, especially Warne. Of the godlings, only Ponting remains. And while the replacements are damn good cricketers, they don't carry an aura. They don't have reputations, they don't have Names. And that seriously counts for something when it comes to those duels-within-a-battle that decide cricket matches.

If anything, the boot is on the other foot. England outscore Australia on the living legends front by two gods to one. Ponting, for all his laissez-faire captaincy (or laissez-Warne captaincy, as it used to be) is one of the great batsmen, but England can counter his Names with those of Andrew Flintoff and Kevin Pietersen.

These two men, equally conscious of their own worth, are England's not-so-secret weapons: the bleeding-obvious weapons more like. And so, granted fitness to both men, a live issue as we move towards that first Test on Wednesday (what?) in Cardiff (surely not?), what we must look for is that sense of occasion, that love of taking the biggest stage, the things that mark the Name.

Both of England cricket's Names have the knack of seizing an occasion and making it their own: both have a knack of taking their boy's-own fantasies and forcing them into reality.

They may be intense rivals for the alpha male, loads-more-money-than-you place in the dressing room, but they also need each other, because victory suits them both rather better than defeat.

So they are the men who will dominate the sporting summer (part two) - men of established reputation who may - or may not - give England that element they lacked four years ago. The killing stroke. Four years ago, England were like wild dogs who ate their prey alive, bit by bit. This year, we will see if they can finish opponents off with a coup de grâce, a killing-bite. Lions do that.

Second serve on a plate for Murray's rivals

Andy Murray has had a glorious nearly-but-not-quite of a Wimbledon: so now he goes into preparation for the US Open. He got to the final there last year, beating Rafael Nadal on the way. His aim, obviously enough, is to go one better. And he'll be thinking about his second serve.

It comes back too often, that's the problem. It comes back too often with mustard on it. The theory is simple enough, the first serve is fast and accurate and powerful and the second is slow but deadly, full of spin and loop and disguise and what-not.

But the pace it comes over at - sometimes less then 80mph - allows no margin for error. Murray finds himself in the position of the leg spinner or the knuckleball pitcher: if he gets it even slightly wrong, it is a buffet lunch for his opponent. It was the second-serve problem that inspired Stanislas Wawrinka in that five-set drama beneath the roof in the fourth round, and it certainly helped an even-more-inspired Andy Roddick in the semi-final.

So does Murray go for the slow second serve because he can't trust himself to put more pace on the ball? Is it a simple choice between slow-and-sometimes-deadly or double faults? The trouble with a weak second serve is that it doesn't half put the pressure on you to get that first serve in and that in itself is an invitation to error. So, what we and what Murray have to ask, is this. Is the weak second serve a failure of technique? Or is it a failure of character?

South Africa band stand that struck all the wrong notes

It is perhaps the most odious prospect in sport, and the competition for that accolade is pretty intense. And it is this: South African rugby people whingeing about their inalienable right to commit crimes of violence in the name of sport.

It was bad enough with the grotesque assertions from their coach, Peter de Villiers, that eye-gouging is an acceptable part of the game.

This taste for unrestrained violence has soured the Lions tour. De Villiers didn't stop there, adding that if you didn't like such matters as eye-gouging, you'd be better off doing ballet, an unworthy remark from a man representing his country. But then, no doubt taking the tone from their coach, we had the cretinous behaviour of the entire South Africa team in the final international on Saturday.

The players all wore armbands to protest about the suspension of their team-mate, Bakkies Botha, a matter already confirmed by an independent tribunal. Botha had made an illegal and dangerous tackle on Adam Jones and the Wales and Lions prop might be out of the game for as long as nine months as a result. So the players wore armbands on which was written “Justice 4”.

This was a deliberate act of insubordination, a calculated rejection of the authority of those that run their sport. It was also, and rather more disturbingly, a ringing indictment of illegal violence.

Rugby should take some serious punitive action against every player who wore an armband, and their ludicrous coach, who presumably condoned it, should be drummed out of international sport.

When caution doesn't pay

Caution is a risk taken by the risk-averse. Andy Murray's dodgy second serve springs from caution. Andrew Strauss's captaincy in the Caribbean last winter was also marked by caution. It was a revealing series, because it showed us where Strauss's default mode lies. Any captain - anyone in sport - will sometimes be cautious, sometimes less so. It's knowing when to do which that is the eternal problem.

The best cricket captains - Mike Brearley, Michael Vaughan - tend to have a taste for the gamble, a desire to take the initiative. They were captains who preferred to set the agenda themselves. The trouble is that for the naturally risk-averse, the gamble on an attacking field or on the unexpected bowling change, is often cerebral rather than instinctive - self-conscious rather than natural - and as such, unconvincing and often doomed to failure.

Against Andy Roddick in the semi-final, Murray was for long periods too passive, expecting an inspired opponent to make the mistake that never came. I suggest Strauss watches a video of the match before the Ashes series starts.