Cricket back where it belongs after the summer of plenty Australia celebrates after sealing a 5-0 Ashes series win over England at the SCG. IN the backrooms at Jolimont, when it was still the Cricket Board and barren patches were known to stretch for years, they'd say that Australia could be the second worst team in the world just as long as it was better than England. That old guard would smile knowingly as the curtain falls on this international summer on Sunday night. For it remains as true as ever. There's nothing in cricket like beating the Poms. Over and over again. As Hollywood mogul Harry Cohn well knew, give the people what they want and they'll turn out for it. This has been the summer of plenty for cricket. Days that have recast the fortunes of not only the protagonists and the national team in totality, but the sport itself. Cast your mind back a year, to a time when footy was being congratulated for its canny incursion and command of the calendar. Whether it was extended player trading and the eternal hope of the draft, or scandal in the shape of salary cap rorting, tanking or illicit drug taking, footy stopped for nothing and no one. Talkback demanded it and no other sport was trusted to provide a compelling agenda. It held as true for the NRL in its heartland states. Such imperialism proved the dominance of the winter codes. And cricket did little to curb its decline. Already hamstrung by the limitations of international scheduling, the Australian cricket team was put in a voluntary state of flux. It was hard to have heroes when you never knew who would be playing. It reached the point where even cricket itself longed to be football. Then all this happened in the crazy, hazy days that restored a collective yearning and pride in a vital institution. Michael Clarke was transformed from aloof, celebrity leader to statesman more befitting the position of captain. Mitch Johnson went from pilloried failure to adored cult hero. The Horror of Lord's replaced by the Terror of the Gabba and beyond. Brad Haddin moved from the outhouse to the penthouse, even his keeping worthy of praise. Chris Rogers cast off his drab exterior. He not only scored rapid-fire hundreds but was the unlikely reveller fined for indulging too enthusiastically in victory. Aaron Finch thrilled with a derring-do that had many wishing he could perform such feats against the red ball as well as the white. James Faulkner channelled Michael Bevan with added panache and reminded a generation of the thrill 50-over cricket can still provide. David Warner remained a cocky little punk but clawed back from despised to tolerated. Even Shane Watson made a century and took the matchwinning wicket on Australia Day. T20 isn't the format ruining cricket. Rather it's a stepping-off point for a prospect such as James Muirhead, who showed a certain something on debut. And as final proof that everything is possible, the selectors even recalled Brad Hodge to national service in the game he's dominated since its inception. England was utterly rubbish. Typically that might have been wearing. Instead, during this dreamy summer that suited just fine. The tail bombing rarely prompted reservation let alone condemnation. Neither did a field that owed much to leg theory. Nor the abrasive manner in which Australia confronted its foe. Precious few wept for the spirit of cricket as everyone else was having too much fun. This might all prove to be a mirage these coming weeks in South Africa, if Test cricket's best team can pry open the faultlines that remain in this Australian team. But it will do little to diminish the memories of a rekindled summer romance. As we farewell cricket, none should do so with greater gratitude than those that had deliberately encroached - the AFL and NRL. Cricket's success has allowed the football codes a blessed period of hibernation. As they emerge in the coming week that absence might have fostered a sense of longing and anticipation to ease the fatigue and bitterness that engulfed both codes last year.