It's been a week of sad loss for cricket.

In Adelaide, of course, with the death of Sir Donald Bradman.

But also in Galle, where the game that Bradman used to play was unrecognisable amidst the raucous gamesmanship and appalling incompetence that disfigured Sri Lanka's win over England.

Before you start thinking that this is already developing as a rant against cheating foreign cricketers and dodgy foreign umpires, I'd better demonstrate some objectivity.

Bradman? Gamesmanship? Lest we forget, it was Sir Donald's superiority with the bat that prompted the brutal corruption of cricket's values by the English in the Bodyline series of 1933.

Our modern game has intimidation and a get-away-with-it mentality.

We have bowlers who rant, batsmen who whinge, fielders who cheat.

We also have captains who go-slow, groundsmen who fix pitches and administrators in denial.

And that's just the first class game setting their example to the clubs and schools.

Just like anywhere else. Just like most other professional sports.

Which is the point. This is an international crisis, which cricket must address if it is to retain - no, make that recapture - the elements that once made it special.

So time, surely, to draw a line in the dust of Galle.

End of an era

Nasser Hussain, once again, acted with restraint and dignity, publicly praising the playing ability of the Sri Lankan team but largely bottling up the frustration and anger he clearly felt at their raucous vandalism.

But earlier, he'd talked of Bradman, who's death - he said - had marked "the end of an era".

Others have since said much the same, but as the England captain prepared for the two minutes silence that preceded the last day's play, he brought a hint of idealism and nobility.

Hussain said that after Bradman's death had been properly acknowledged, the players would then "get on with trying to make this a better game".

But as we know, they didn't. And neither did the umpires.

Learning process

In the 1960s, I was taught as a boy to be silent in the slips, to appeal only when I thought I had more than half a chance of success, and to walk if I knew I was out.

By the time I was playing league cricket in the 70's, I was wiser to the ways of the world.

But my sledging lacked wit and venom. My appealing was more ludicrous than intimidatory. And I was bowled so often that the issue of "to walk or not to walk" hardly came into it.

I did stand my ground once after a thick edge flew low to gully. I thought it looked out but I waited for the umpire, who allowed me to stay.

"Cheat!" they chorused from the slips.

That was a bit rich coming from a side which was systematically sledging its way to success, but the fact that it remains an uncomfortable memory some 25 years later reminds me of what I loved about the game.

I liked winning and winning well, make no mistake, but there was also a place in my heart for the close finish, whoever won.

It's surely a richer experience when mutual respect and consideration form part of the game at any level.

Any hope?

The fact that Sri Lanka's shabby victory was so roundly condemned must mean that there are still some lovers of a great game out there.

And its simultaneous timing with the end of Sir Donald's era serves as a warning to us all.

The great Pakistan run-scorer Hanif Mohammed talked of a wake-up call for the game when he heard that Sir Donald was dead.

"I sincerely hope that after the Don, cricket continues to flourish and be played the way Bradman liked it to be played," he said.

It reads as if he wasn't too optimistic doesn't it?

And the even greater vice of corruption was at the front of his mind. Which just about sums up the crisis confronting the game.