Why is this man kissing an egg cup?

Photos in this post shamelessly, uh, borrowed from the Times.

To an Englishman, they are some of the sweetest words in creation.

To an Australian, they are devastating, deeply painful words, on a par with 'We're all out of Foster's' or 'The dingo ate your baby.'

And to most of the rest of the world, they are utterly, bafflingly meaningless.

'England have regained the Ashes.' A five-word summation of a month-and-a-half-long roller coaster in a sport that I can all but guarantee will never catch on in the United States.

Cricket has a curious reputation outside the eight or 10 countries that follow it -- and even within them. What kind of sport takes five days to play and has 'tea breaks,' the general line of reasoning goes. Surely nothing interesting can take that long.

And it's true. There are tea breaks. It does take five days (well, sometimes). And there are extended periods of time when nothing happens. But even when nothing's happening, something's happening, and in following this series (because, well, it's something to do), I've come to realise that.

So why 'The Ashes?' Because, well, because England are sore losers, pretty much. Back in the late 1800s, England lost to Australia (then still a colony, and a penal colony at that) in a test match at a ground called the Oval. So humiliating was this defeat that a paper called The Sporting Times published an obituary of English cricket that included the line 'the body will be cremated and the ashes taken to Australia.'

When England visited Australia next, the tour was dubbed 'the quest to regain the Ashes,' a group of women presented a small urn, allegedly containing the ashes an item of cricket equipment, to the England players and a (slightly bizarre) tradition was born. (The urn pictured above is not the real urn, which is pretty much in a museum.)

More than a hundred years later, it remains international cricket's biggest rivalry.

In its modern-day form, the Ashes is contested every other year, alternating between England and Australia. Australia dominated the late 80s, the 90s and the early ... whatever we're calling this decade, but England finally ended the run with a 2-1 series victory in 2005. (A series is five matches, but a match can end in a draw -- which isn't the same thing as a tie.)

Australia, though, won them back in late 2006 (cricket is a summer sport, and so the Ashes is conducted in December when it's held in Australia), whitewashing England 5-0. And there was little to suggest that England could put up much of a fight this year, because, well, England weren't very good.

But they were good enough.

(Quick interlude for a very quick overview of the rules: Each team can bat twice in a match. Each turn at bat is called an innings. (Not an inning.) In each innings, a team gets 10 wickets, the equivalent of outs, and as much time to use them as they want. Scores reach into the hundreds.)

The first match ended in an improbable draw, which, as I said, isn't the same thing as a tie. What it basically means is that over the course of the five days, the two teams are unable to complete two innings(es?) each. And that means that even if you're hopelessly unable to win, you can hold out until the end of play and at least not lose. It's the equivalent of hitting 69 straight foul balls with two outs in the ninth of a 10-1 baseball game and the umpires saying 'You know what? This is going nowhere. You boys had enough?'

(There are those who would argue that stuff like this is the reason Test cricket isn't as popular now, having been passed in the eyes of many by the shorter versions of the game, especially Twenty20. And it can be very boring. But that's why they sell beer.)

And in England's case, what they did, with the last two batsmen seeing out the final 69 balls of the match without making an out, was the equivalent of two relief pitchers standing at the plate and hitting those 69 foul balls. (This would be one of those times where, although nothing is really happening, everything is happening. They weren't scoring runs, but they didn't have to.)

But so dominant were Australia, despite not winning, that there seemed little reason to expect they wouldn't win the series, especially with the second match at Lord's (remember when I went there?), where Australia hadn't lost for 75 years.

Like I said, hadn't. England steamrolled to victory, making history and surprising pretty much everyone.

By the third match, I was pretty much hooked, even though I can't afford Sky and therefore couldn't watch on TV. But because it rained the entire third day, Australia were able to force a draw of their own.

Then they bashed England's heads in in the fourth match, evening the series with a victory so dominant they didn't even have to bat their second innings, England scoring less in its two combined that Australia did in its first.

And since a drawn series means the Ashes stay with whoever has them, England had to win the fifth match, and Australia only had to draw. The English never having been famous for their optimism, hopes were not high, to say the least.

England batted first, which was crucial, but didn't make a very good score. Australia then started their innings really well, and it all looked like it was going wrong. But then, in two hours, England took eight of Australia's wickets, an incredible achievement at any point of any match, but even more incredible in this one.

It was a 22-1 run in basketball, back-t0-back-to-back home runs in baseball. You felt a wicket was going down with virtually every ball. In literally two hours of a series that lasted a month and a half, England had, essentially, won the Ashes.

Having finished the Aussies after, yes, tea, England managed a better score in their second innings, and with more than two days to go, Australia needed 546 runs to win the game, the equivalent of scoring 10 runs in the bottom of the ninth to win 11-10.

The all-time record for such a situation is 418 -- though England managed to allow a successful 'chase' of 387 against India just last year. But remember, Australia didn't need to win. If they could somehow bat out the final two-plus days, they could draw the match and keep the Ashes.

And after a strong start, it all looked sickeningly possible. I was worried, the radio commentators were worried (well, except for the Australian ones), everyone was worried. And not just about a draw ...

But when Australia's third wicket went, early in the afternoon, everything changed again. We knew we were going to win. It was only a matter of when.


And a few hours later, when we did, I will admit, I got a little emotional.

Over cricket? Really? Yep.