But sometime that night, muffled by the the chatter, babble and reconstituted memories, England captain Tony Greig muttered to 21-year-old Australian tyro David Hookes: "Just another Aussie left-hander who can't bat." How those words would rebound upon him a few days later, not that Greig would have regrets. "To succeed against the Australians, you have to take the mickey out of them," he said, "and that is what I am going to do."

Here was the essence of the Centenary Test, a singular occasion, but also a peerless contest, a Test fit to to honour the centenary, down to its very last detail, victory for Australia by the same margin as the first Test on the same ground 100 years previously.

The way the Melbourne Cricket Club pulled this celebration together moved Marylebone Cricket Club secretary Billy Griffith to remark: "This must be the most magnificent effort ever made by any cricket authority." The tourist bureau reported the biggest influx into Melbourne since the 1956 Olympics. For inbound England, there was a motorcade from the airport. Not the least dextrous feat was long-time curator Bill Watts', to get up a Test pitch in the middle of March.

New heroes or old: you could have your choice from this smorgasbord. In one corner of the Hilton, Don Bradman broke bread with England's Bodyline attack. In another, 84-year-old Percy Fender, when reminded that in 1930 he had doubted Bradman's ability to succeed in the lushness of England, ruefully replied: "An indiscretion of youth." On the concourses of the MCG, scoreboard nameplates of old greats hung, exuding history. On match morning, 18 past captains were paraded on the ground, Ian Chappell in a green safari suit. Well, it was the '70s.

So was the stage grandiosely set. Greig won the toss and bowled. "I hope he doesn't live to regret it," moaned from the commentary box Geoff Boycott, who was, well, boycotting. Whether it was to seize the advantage of the unseasonal pitch or merely to deny it to Lillee, whose presence would loom like a tower over all of this match, it worked. Australia was lowered for 138 and there was collateral damage in the form of a broken jaw for opener Rick McCosker. Effectively in English conditions, Australian captain Greg Chappell was as proud of his 40 as any other innings he played. The English caught brilliantly, while in the covers, the perpetually in motion Derek Randall chanted: "C'mon England." For him, this was overture.

For those who think the gloves come off quickly in the social media age, here was Richie Benaud: "There has never been a more disastrous day for Australian cricket in the 100 years the game has been fought between the two countries." And Bill O'Reilly: "Australia batted as though the original XI from 1877 had been specially resurrected for this historic job." And, for that matter, former England captain Ted Dexter: "England, glorious England ... Australia were humiliated."

Not for long. The next day, with autumn's juice in the pitch still, Lillee took 6/26, Max Walker bowled Greig with the best ball umpire Max O'Connell ever saw and England was skittled for 95. Resistance was strictly symbolic; Randall, having ducked under a Lillee bouncer, sprang upright and doffed his cap to the bowler.

Lillee played this match with chronic back and hamstring injuries - for which team physio Barry Richardson had to devise bandages - as well as a viral infection, but you would not have known it that day. England were taken aback, by Lillee and the bloodthirsty crowd at his back. To fabled commentator John Arlott, Lillee and his following were "a symbol of violence to a generation in Australia that, like many others in the world, has a hunger for, and finds glory in violence". Compatriot Crawford White concentrated scornfully on the batting of both sides. "You would think fast bowling had just been invented," he wrote.

Chappell had hoped for a small deficit at best; instead he had a lead. Authorities fretted that the match would be finished long before the Queen's scheduled day-five visitation.

Chappell had his own logistic problem. Not wishing to unnerve Kerry O'Keeffe, he waited until they were leaving the field at the end of England's innings to ask him to open in McCosker's place, enjoining him to play the innings of his life. Meantime, Marsh had said to opener Ian Davis: "We really need you to stand up today." He did, O'Keeffe was redoubtable, Doug Walters made a typically insouciant half-century, but the match still hovered in the balance when the stripling Hookes, with his eye in, took block to Greig's off-spin. Five balls, five lavish swings of his pigskin-clad bat and five fours later, he was 50 and flying. and the MCG was hysterical. "For five balls," Bradman said, "I thought Frank Woolley had been reborn."

Greig affected blitheness, saying he had wanted Hookes to come at him. But Chappell felt that with that salvo, the match turned for good. When Hookes fell soon afterwards, Greig told him to "piss off", to which Hookes made a retort about Greig as contemptible mercenary, but at stumps, and much to Hookes' surprise, Greig asked to join him for beer. This was the Centenary Test spirit, head and all. Physio Richardson, then coach of Richmond footy club, was astonished at the capacity of cricketers to drink. One told him that he preferred to start each day with a fuzzy head, because it dampened any likely rush of blood.

Marsh clubbed his way to the first century by an Australian wicketkeeper in Anglo-Australian Tests, augmented on a now flat pitch by all in the bottom order, until at No 10 appeared McCosker, head swathed in a bandage that Richardson had to redo several times until he could fit his baggy green over it. Chappell told him there was no need for him to bat, Marsh tried to send him back, but McCosker insisted, and the crowd sang "Waltzing McCosker" by way of serenade. Chappell warned him to expect a bouncer, Greig ordered Willis to bowl one, but McCosker was equal to it. So, split by a rest day, Marsh reached 100 and Australia breasted 400, and would need every one of them.

Set 463 in five sessions, England was undaunted. Gus Gilmour soon was invalided out of the attack and Lillee was running on empty; during this innings, it was announced that he would not tour England later in the year because of re-opened stress fractures.

Randall again personified his team. Pre-game, Greig had said to him that if he got out for another flighty 40, he would not play for England again on Greig's watch. Now the jester held court for seven-and-a-half jaunty hours for 174. When he ducked into a Lillee bouncer, he rubbed the spot, then said to the bowler: "No good hitting me there, mate, nothing to damage." Another time, he pointed at the stumps as if to redirect Lillee's aim. Said Lillee in his newspaper column that night: "I'm beginning to worry whether we can get out of this."

Valour begat nobility. Randall was given out caught at the wicket from Chappell, but Marsh signalled that he had taken the ball on the half-volley and called Randall back. Finally, Randall prodded a catch from O'Keeffe to Gary Cosier at short leg, a position O'Keeffe he had been reluctant to deploy until overruled by Chappell. Enthused Jack Fingleton: "We have not seen a better strokemaker from England in Australia since Ted Dexter." But Randall, overcome, exited through the wrong gate and found himself almost in the royal enclosure, whereupon he bowed elaborately, then scurried off through the crowd.

Though footsore, the Australians had to stay on the ground at tea for the Queen's inspection, though Chappell was amused to spot in the official party a mate from Brisbane who somehow had insinuated himself. Lillee, explaining himself as a "a bit of a Royalist", asked her Majesty for an autograph. Protocol denied him, but in due course a signed photo arrived in the mail. Meantime, the MCG crowd, never likely to stand on ceremony, varied "Lillee, Lillee" to "Lizzie, Lizzie".

England, five down, needed 109 in the last session and knuckles on both sides were white. England to its credit chased to the last ball; posterity would be served by any result other than a draw. But once Greig fell, wicketkeeper Alan Knott always was going to run out of partners. He was the last wicket to fall, lbw to what Chappell was sure was the last ball Lillee had left in him. "It was typical of Dennis," said Chappell. "He willed wickets to fall." He took five for the innings, 11 in the match.

As in 1877, the margin was 45 runs. "Quite eerie, really," said Chappell. Randall was named man of the match, and said: "I'd just like to thank Dennis for the boomp on the head." But Marsh protests to this day that though Randall made the match, Lillee won it.

Veritably, this was all long ago. Colour TV was only three years old in Australia. The sound of bat on ball was more tock than whump. Helmets were far in the future. A wicket was celebrated by handshake. DRS might have turned this match on its head. Hoardings for TAA, Benson and Hedges and Solo ringed the MCG, but the airline is no more, the cigarette maker banned from advertising and the soft drink's slogan - "it's a man's drink" - naff. Behind the pickets, there was standing room.

Five of the players are dead, as well as one of the umpires and three of the four ABC commentators.

The Centenary Test was the 800th, in 100 years. In 40 years since, there have been 1450 more, plus pretty much the entire 4000-match history of international one-day cricket. In the deep background, an even more momentous turn of history was being schemed. Walking off the ground at match's end, Marsh said to Chappell: "I suppose that's last time we will be playing here for a while."

It was not so cryptic. Agents for Kerry Packer, including Greig and Ian Chappell, had been busily signing on players for what would be revealed a couple of months later as World Series Cricket. At match's end, Austin Robertson, a Packer off-sider, was seen distributing envelopes, saying: "Here's your theatre tickets, fellas." Inside were cheques, indeed passes to a show.

But that was beyond the afterglow. Summing up for the ABC, Frank Tyson said: "I think this has been the Olympic Games of cricket." Rejoined Bradman: "I've never known a match where there was so much emotion in the air." Both captains felt that the pressure of the occasion had weighed on all players, and elicited the best from the best. Ultimately, it was the game's triumph. "It may not have been the greatest Test of all," wrote veteran Age reporter Peter McFarline, "but I hope to be there when there is a better one."