Last week brought with it one of those experiences you struggle to make sense of.

It started with an email from Dean Jones, indicating that he would be in town on the 4th and could we meet? Came the day and, with it, a call from the man, suggesting 4.30 pm at the Taj. Staff shutterbug Jewella and I got there about 20 minutes ahead of schedule, and wandered off to the Nalanda bookshop.

About 20, 25 minutes later, I wandered back to the Taj lobby -- and saw something that flipped me over. There was the towering figure of Dean Jones and, beside him, the diminutive but equally recognisable figure of Allan Border, both casually attired, both strolling through the lobby of the Taj, peering at the people sitting there, obviously searching for me.

Thing is, 'Deano' is the guy who redefined one day cricket. Who placed the emphasis squarely on strike rotation, on electric motoring between wickets. Who raised the grammar of the game to a new level. And next to him was a genuine, certified, gold-plated icon -- the man with more Test runs than any other human being on the planet; the captain who took over in the middle of the attritive World Series phase and, working with raw but untried talent, remodelled Australia into the kind of tough-fighting, result-oriented outfit it is today. 'Mark Taylor is merely the prophet, AB is God!' was how Dean Jones himself had put it, once.

And guess what? In cricket crazy India, not one single, solitary soul recognised either of them. There was no quick double take, no nudge of the elbow into the neighbour's ribs, no whispered 'Hey, there's AB', no hysteria, no requests for autographs.

Nothing! A Bombay Ranji player would have got more recognition than those two cricketing legends.

So are we a 'cricket-crazy' nation, as the hype has it? Increasingly, I have begun to think otherwise. Cricket -- as in, the game and its immortals -- is not our passion any more. What we are into is a narrow, blinkered vision that only takes in current icons. And in the process, we appear to have forgotten to enjoy, to appreciate, the game in its entirety.

Meanwhile, AB himself was a revelation. If I hadn't seen it, experienced it, I would never have believed that such a hyper-achiever could be so down to earth, so seemingly without a sense of self. I mean, here we are, sitting in the bar of the Club Room, talking -- and this guy, whose exploits I grew up with, acts like he's a novice being interviewed for a job or some such. We are talking of the Net and he spends the time asking the basic questions -- then quickly apologises, saying he is a complete tyro and clueless about the Net and could I possibly spare the time to fill him in on the basics?

Could I, hell -- it was unmitigated pleasure, but you wouldn't think so the way he put it. Kind of blew me away, his attitude -- such a marked contrast to some of our own finest, who the minute they get an international cap, tend to acquire every single air in the book and then some.

As to why the two of them were in town -- Jones runs a travel and tours promotion agency among other businesses, and AB has just signed on as partner. Together, the two of them are planning to bring the group INXS down to Bombay, sometime in February 2000, for a concert, and this trip was by way of scouting possible venues before heading off to Delhi for one of those celebrity golf events.

We did get to talk cricket in between, and like everything else about the evening, the experience was refreshingly different. I mean, this guy is chairman of the Australian selection committee, and yet he seemed to have absolutely no problem discussing, in detail, players past and present, analysing their performance, indicating frankly why some players, whose performance seems on par, will never make it to the Australian team.

This naturally turned the conversation to the functioning of our own selection committee. And meandered into a discussion on cricketers being allowed to talk to the media, or write their own columns. The likes of Adam Gilchrist, Shane Warne, the Waugh twins, they all write personalised columns, they discuss the matches they are playing in, come up with criticisms where required -- without the kind of fuss the BCCI kicked up when Robin Singh and Rahul Dravid spoke to the media, or when Saurav Ganguly wrote that personalised column.

Is it, I wondered, a good thing to let players go shooting off at the mouth? Won't their comments sometimes cause tensions within the team? AB had a simple take on it -- mate, he says, they don't, in their columns, get half as caustic as they are in team meetings, so where is the problem? Besides, he argues, when they are allowed to talk and write openly, it is easy to pin responsibility on the right person when he talks out of turn. Prohibit them from giving interviews or writing their columns and what happens? They talk 'off record' to friends in the media -- who then write sensational articles quoting 'inside sources'. And this, AB argued, causes more friction within the team than any signed newspaper column or television interview ever could.

The point is well taken -- as I know too well, having been at the receiving end of some "off record" briefings by present players, wherein they have attacked their colleagues with startling viciousness.

Food for thought for the BCCI here -- not that anyone ever accused that body of actually thinking.

Meanwhile, Fortune magazine might be interested in doing a story on the richest mine in the world -- which mine, to give it a name, is the Indian cricket fan.

The other day, the Oberoi ballroom was the venue of a bash thrown by Sony Entertainment Television, to announce their official entry into the world of cricket broadcasting.

'Official', simply because Sony was the outfit that telecast the likes of the Hero Cup Winners' Cup, the Diana Memorial Match in London, the pre-World Cup 'Good Luck Game' between the teams of 1983 and 1999 and such. None of them were recognised ICC fixtures -- but this time round, Sony goes official when they telecast, starting August 22, the one day triangular series between India, Australia and Sri Lanka.

What Sony has done here is to buy telecast rights for cricket in Sri Lanka, for a period of 18 months. The ante? A mammoth 7.75 million dollars, US.

The thinking, frankly, defeats me. Where does Sony hope to make its money? From selling advertising spots during the telecasts, right? Fine. Advertisers go where the viewership is. Take the upcoming triangular series -- the prospect of the champions of 1996 and 1999 facing off is interesting enough to guarantee viewership -- remember, Sri Lanka and Australia had faced off in the 1996 final, won by the former. And this time round, the two teams hadn't met in the World Cup in England. So there is a degree of interest in the outcome of their clash. Plus, it marks Sachin's comeback as captain -- and there's going to be a bunch of guys out there taking sick leave to stay home and see how India does under the master batsman.

The audience is guaranteed, ergo, so is the advertising revenue. But what next? There is the Singapore Challenge in early September, with India taking on the West Indies and Zimbabwe -- for which, too, a certain amount of viewer interest is guaranteed. But the rest of the menu makes for sorry viewership pickings -- an Australia versus Sri Lanka Test series which, frankly, I don't see the Indian audience getting too enthused over; then another triangular early next year in which India is not playing; then South Africa's Test tour of Sri Lanka.

You look at that agenda, and you wonder why Sony felt confident enough to plonk $ 7.75 million on the table.

But even that is chickenfeed compared with the kind of money the BCCI is being offered for rights to telecast international cricket in India. Word is that ESPN-Star has come up with an offer of around 200 million; UTV has upped the ante to 275 million, and Sony (which appears to have deep pockets and a burning hunger to get into the cricket-broadcast game) has come up with a mind-bending 500 million offer.

And -- wait for this -- our very own Doordarshan, which already owes the BCCI something like 90 million dollars, is apparently prepared to top the highest bidder in exchange for the rights.

Behind the scenes, the competition to land the telecast rights is taking on the dimensions of a soap opera.

Makes you wonder? It does me -- just when and how did that game we used to play in the gully behind our homes grow to this size?

Executive Editor Prem Panicker will be back to his wicket, wicket ways soon.