This shock comes from the realisation of our worst fears and the utterly unexpected way it happened. For four days, England played tough, committed and thoughtful cricket. They buried the Brisbane memory so absolutely that hope sprang from our hearts and reality was ignored in our heads. But it was not just us. The same emotions overtook the team. Those 11 men who buried the memory got ahead of themselves. They fell foul of sport's most deadly sin. They thought the job was done and took their eye off the ball, metaphorically and literally.

This may be unforgivable, and yet I urge that you forgive them - not forget, that's not possible, never will be - but forgive the way that an extraordinary, nerveless and crushing will overcame them.

In the Australia team meeting before play on Tuesday morning, various options were discussed. The main threads were to either defend and ensure the draw that had been fought for so hard, or attack and see if enough wickets could be taken to send a shiver through England. The consensus was a bit of both, a bob each way, depending on the batsman at the crease. But Shane Warne said they should look to bowl England out at all costs. That way there was still a possibility of winning the game and, at worst, the likelihood that England's regenerated self-esteem would be given a kick in the guts.

The point about Warne is that, like no other, he can walk the walk, too. He made his point, received the backing of his fast-improving captain and went out and did it. Probably, his 4-49 was his finest hour. Crystallised, it was actually 4-29 on Tuesday since the five overs he bowled for 20 runs on Monday evening had caused him to choke on his spaghetti rings when he read them in hard print over breakfast - I kid you not, on either count.

The notion that Warne might be the greatest bowler ever is outdated. I mean, please, there has been no one,ever, who comes close to his uncanny mix of pure and natural talent, remorseless concentration, imagination, confidence, colour, flair and style. Do not forget that this man took 1-167 in the first innings. Consider the self-belief in such a person who thinks he will win the game off his own back after that. He bowled 85 overs in the match, effected a run-out and made 43 runs at a critical time.

He will take his 700th Test wicket during the Boxing Day Test in front of a crowd of a hundred thousand or so people at his beloved "G", and he has 3000 runs and more than 100 catches in Test cricket, too. He is a freak, and because of it you cannot - try one day - take your eyes off him. That's right, on top of it all, Warne is compulsive viewing.

Which was England's next big mistake. They couldn't turn their attention from him, deciding to take him on verbally. The trick of playing against Warne is to either ignore him or to conspicuously enjoy him but never, under any circumstance, to mix it with the arch mixer. He feeds on confrontation. If he can't see a fight, he'll pick one. So when he came to the crease and heard some harmless mutterings from the Poms, he treated them as insults and responded in kind. With the tiniest prompt, the sleeping giant of 1-167 awoke and the air turned blue.

Of course, people ask why England did not look to score. They ask why a mere 70 runs were scratched out of 54 overs at the wicket on terrible, tortured Tuesday. This is often explained by that rabbits-caught-in-a-headlight thing, which sort of does the job but not quite. What is difficult to explain is how a sportsman breaks mentally. How fear grips him and personality deserts him, how hands and head stop relating, how the deprivation of senses occurs and breathing loses its rhythm. Or even, how he simply tries too hard. This is why we should all forgive and continue to support. The people who play - even the best of them - are very human. This is not to demean their talent, rather to explain nature's way in sport. Witness some of the Australians in England last year.<