Legend of Lord’s

For a giant of cricket, Glenn McGrath does a fair impression of a regular guy. Hanging about in the members' area of the Sydney Cricket Ground on a chilly afternoon last month, the fast bowler might have kept chatting with New South Wales State of Origin rugby league players, who happen to be milling about, too. But his attentions turn to the reporter, whom he knows a little. He agrees to talk outside, looking out over the ground, even though those things on his arms look a lot like goosebumps. Earlier, he'd noticed some of the members playing tennis. He says he hit a nice ball as a child but hasn't played in years. Perhaps he'll take it up again once he's mothballed the creams, though it will have to get in line with some other things. "I'm going to get my helicopter license," he says. "And learn the piano."

Since his international debut 12 years ago, McGrath has seldom fit the stereotype of the obsessive sportsman, let alone the boneheaded fast bowler. Raised on a sheep and wheat farm, a straight-A student through school in Narromine, in northwestern New South Wales, McGrath was set to become a carpenter until his talent for propelling a 5.5-ounce lump of cork, string and leather carried him to Sydney and beyond. As a cricketing tourist, he's shown an uncommon appreciation for the peculiar attractions of foreign lands; to his wife, Jane, he's the rock that's stood by her through her battle with breast cancer. He's now 35, an age at which most fast bowlers' bodies have cried, enough. But it's unlikely McGrath will be lowering his rangy frame onto a piano stool anytime soon. To his mind, he has a lot of bowling to do first.

Ricky Ponting's Aus-tralians touched down in England last week to begin a 14-week tour, during which they will defend the Ashes against the strongest English side for at least 20 years. The mind games will intensify on June 19, when the two countries contest an early installment of a limited-overs tournament. The main event starts next month at Lord's, venue for the first of five Tests. McGrath needs one wicket to take his tally in Tests to 500, a mark reached by only three other bowlers. If he can manage 21 wickets for the series, he'll pass the West Indian Courtney Walsh as the game's most prolific fast bowler. Though vanity is frowned upon in Australian cricket, there's no point McGrath claiming that these milestones are unimportant to him. During a televised awards ceremony earlier in the year, it emerged that he's able to recall, in detail, the circumstances of all of his 499 wickets. Just pick a number and off he goes. "If I'd have written down 10 years ago how I'd have wanted my cricket life to unfold," he says, "it wouldn't have been too different to how it's panned out."

England's plan, of course, is to write a dark twist into McGrath's next chapter. If their batsmen can find a way to blunt him, they will have taken a huge stride toward ending Australia's run of eight consecutive Ashes victories. Publicly, the England camp has been circumspect about its chances. Mostly it's been lauding Australia, which has lost just seven of its last 40 Tests against its oldest rival - and 17 of its last 100 against all countries. Only in April, the England and Wales Cricket Board set 2009 as the date by which the No. 2-ranked England would be ready to claim the top spot. Considering there'll be two Ashes series in the meantime, many Australians would regard this as typical Pommie pessimism. England, after all, was unbeaten in Tests last year and has lost only two of its last 20. About the boldest comments have come from the paceman Darren Gough, recently retired from Test cricket but still in England's one-day squad. "This English team has some spine and could surprise a lot of you," Gough said. "It's a big test but they're giving themselves a chance. That's a start." Australia has held the Ashes since 1989, when Allan Border arrived in England determined to bury his team's reputation as amiable pushovers. Captain Grumpy banned wives and girlfriends from making the trip and dodged any socializing with the opposition. During a match early in the tour, England batsman Robin Smith, suffering a stomach upset, asked Border whether it might be alright if a teammate brought Smith a glass of water. "What do you think this is, mate?" the captain snarled. "A f___ing garden party?"

Australia won that series 4-0 and it's been fee-fi-fo-fum ever since, especially under the ruthless Steve Waugh, who coined the phrase "mental disintegration" to describe how Australia tries to unsettle and eventually demoralize its rivals. Last year, Waugh handed over to Ponting, a prodigy from Launceston, Tasmania. Despite making some diplomatic noises, Ponting has kept the approach rolling. "That's what it's all about," said the captain, resplendent in gray suit and pink shirt, shortly before boarding a plane in Brisbane for London on June 4. "Everything we do is based on applying pressure." It's one reason that, outside of Australia, most people with an interest in cricket would be delighted to see England beat the cocky visitors.