KEY POINTS:
When you are watching sport, there are times you can take a decent stab at what is going through an athlete's mind.
A case in point was the Olympic 100m final in Seoul in 1988, aka Ben Johnson's race.
As the sprinters closed on the finishing line, there was a wonderful shot of Carl Lewis glancing across the track at Johnson a couple of metres in front.
"What the heck?" he seemed to be asking. "How'd he get there that fast?"
Come up to this week, the opening day of the Ashes series at the Gabba. Make that the opening over, when English fast bowler Steve Harmison announced himself to his captain Andrew Flintoff, if not the Australian openers.
His first ball was dead straight. It arrowed from Harmison's hand straight into Flintoff's mitts at second slip with nary a millimetre's deviation.
England's great new-ball hope was a busted flush by lunch that day and with him went the initiative in a series when England are holding, not chasing, the little urn.
Depending on events over the coming weeks, it might come to be seen as a symbolic moment in the rubber. England's attack has been exposed as toothless - the indomitable skipper apart - and in cricket there's nothing so ruthless as Australians with their foot on an opponent's throat.
Now fast forward to yesterday, when Harmison was handed the ball after half an hour. He began with another wide, served up another, then another in his next over.
He wore the haunted look of someone who'd rather have been anywhere but Brisbane. He was probably pleading to Him Upstairs just to let the ball land somewhere close.
And when you are reduced to that, you've got big problems. For England, it must have been ghastly viewing. Like watching your kid's school play and praying they won't botch the lines.
The towering figures of the first two days were the captains. Ricky Ponting set out his stall with an innings which reeked of resolve. This is the chap who lost the Ashes in the last series. Ponting is a formidable opponent at the best of times, let alone when he's really wound up.
Flintoff has surely experienced that sinking feeling by now, looking round him and wondering what he'd done to deserve this lot. The power of his personality shone through, but he's going to need plenty of help.
He'll get it if he troops along to the Channel Nine commentary box, because the host broadcasters have spared no expense. The cast has included the usual suspects - a couple of Poms, a West Indian and a new Aussie voice, Michael Slater, who talks as he batted, with a touch of exuberance. He promises a splash of colour in a middle-aged team.
Here's the 12 who have turned up for a spot of chat behind the microphone, in a rough batting order: Bill Lawry, Slater, Mark Taylor, Mike Atherton, David Lloyd, Ian Chappell, Mark Nicholas, Tony Greig, Richie Benaud, Simon O'Donnell, Ian Healy and Michael Holding - test players all, bar smoothie Nicholas.
That list supports the view that batsmen are regarded as better voices than bowlers. It includes five openers, three allrounders, a wicketkeeper and only one bowler. It reeks of too many cooks.
Then there's a woman called Stephanie, who has been handed the turnip prize of trying to make witty repartee with blokes clutching beers in the crowd.
She looks like this is not something she does every day. She found author and ex-jailbird Jeffrey Archer at one point and that bikini model from the "Where the bloody hell are you" ad. Another 23 days of that? I think not.
The commentary teams are now threes, not pairs, but the quality remains patchy.
"If they bowl well and picked up a wicket or two things can change," opined Lawry in an early penetrative moment, proving these blokes have to sweat for their coin.
Former test wicketkeeper Healy is the chief cheerleader. Before play yesterday, he offered the view that the opening day had been "even bigger than the hype". Sorry, not possible.
And the gadgets? Something called the hot spot, which looks like moving x-rays, showing where the ball struck the bat/pad, is the innovation du jour, with old faithfuls snicko to detect the edges, the super slo-mo, the one where the batsman becomes see-through to check if a leg-before decision was correct and the tracker, a pointless device which follows the movements of the ball.
Still, it should be a fun few weeks. The cast have all been given their positive pills. Yet to hear a critical remark? It'll be a long wait.
* Funny how quickly Grannygate has slipped from the memory.
There's a belief the Kiwis have used the Nathan Fien shambles to hunker down, and turn it to their advantage before tonight's Tri-Nations final against the Kangaroos.
Smart move. And here's another thing: there seems plenty of support for the view that the Kiwis are, if not favourites, then at least even money to win at Aussie Stadium.
Back-to-back titles? Put it this way: there's more chance of that than England escaping the noose at the Gabba.
