David Leggat: Sporting spirits of Christmas past

You can imagine Craig McMillan, sharp blade in hand, attacking the turkey with special relish tomorrow.

Both McMillan and his brother-in-law, Nathan Astle, have felt a spot of pre-Christmas cold steel from John Bracewell and will probably be muttering darkly about weird selectorial whims over the dinner table.

England's cricketers will be back in bleak old Blighty from the sweatboxes of Rawalpindi and Karachi just in time for turkey, cranberry sauce, stodgy pud and silly hats.

At least they're sitting at home for Christmas.

For about 25 years, England have had a tradition when overseas on December 25 of having a fancy dress party.

On one Indian tour, Ian Botham dressed up as Gandhi. Yes, small, bony chap turns into well-fed Pommie japester.

When the New Zealanders went dress-up for a sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll bash in Durban in 1994 it all turned haywire when a film of players looking distinctly sporting if not in the cricketing sense got back home.

Shortly after, the pot-smoking incident at Paarl came to light and the impression of a bunch of players more keen on keeping their eyes on the partying than the ball was fixed in the public mind.

On Monday, South Africa's cricketers, no doubt with an extra helping of boerewors and melktart for lunch tomorrow, will step onto the Melbourne Cricket Ground significantly fortified by a spirited final-day defence which forced a draw at Perth in the first test this week.

Fifty-two years ago tomorrow, New Zealand's cricketers had a Christmas dinner in Johannesburg, then doubtless gathered round the piano for a singsong - for that was the way back then - on the rest day of their second test.

At the time, they didn't know that a train had plunged into the river at Tangiwai near Waiouru in the central North Island on Christmas Eve.

More than 150 people had died, including the fiancee of fast bowler Bob Blair.

What followed remains one of New Zealand cricket's most heroic days.

On a dangerous pitch, Bert Sutcliffe, head swathed in bandages blazed an unbeaten 80. Blair, wiping tears away, emerged unexpectedly at the fall of the ninth wicket and belted a six.

The crowd, knowing the backdrop, roared. Before that, Sutcliffe had whacked seven of them before the pair walked off with an arm round each other.

New Zealand lost, but a lump-in-the-throat legend was created, again demonstrating if it was needed, that there is more to sport than winning.

Rugby doesn't have this Christmas carry-on. In the Southern Hemisphere, players are on their break. In the north, the various league and cup competitions simply, well, carry on.

But New Zealand's leading rugby players should enjoy the next few days. They've got a long campaign ahead. Enlarged Super 14, longer Tri-Nations, fatter professional domestic competition. Best enjoy the turkey and pavlova, lads.

But back to the cricketing Santas. Who would be your favourite dinner guests on Christmas Day?

Here's a table to delight any chef: Mike Gatting, W.G. Grace, Inzamam-ul-Haq and Richard Soule.

Who he, you say? Read on.

Consider their claims to a place at the table.

It was said of Gatting that if bowlers delivered cheese rolls instead of balls, the former English skipper would never have been beaten.

Not knowing Grace personally, he appeals as a man who liked his food.

Big, burly, with a bushy beard and dominant manner, you could picture him roaring, in best Henry VIII fashion, turkey leg in hand, "Bring me more pudding!"

Pakistan captain Inzamam, also known as the Mountain of Multan and his country's most-prolific test centurymaker, has innumerable claims to a place at this table.

Never known to have turned away a pudding plate, Inzamam once signalled to the 12th man to bring him a bat during an ODI in Toronto of all places. The player was puzzled why Inzamam would want a bat when Pakistan were fielding, but took it out anyway. Whereupon Inzy waded into the crowd to dispense justice to a spectator who'd spent the previous hour loudly calling him "a big potato".

And finally Soule. He was a Tasmanian wicketkeeper of impressive girth. He had talent too.

The word was he had been given the whisper from a highly placed source to lose about 20kg and he might be in the Australian test frame.

And why is he in this company?

Once against New Zealand in Devonport, with the umpires in the middle and his teammates gathering at the gate, Soule was spied in the dining room, padded up, keeping gloves on the table, tucking into a final plate of pavlova and ice cream, before wiping his chin, picking up his gloves and hurrying to the field.

Four men fit to attack a table groaning with festive fare.

Happy Christmas my diners, wherever you are.