That is the essence of 'Dizzy' Gillespie. When he does anything, he does it rather quickly. That not only applies to his bowling - one England batsman described it at Headingley as like facing Allan Donald armed with late out-swing - but to his progress in general. Little more than a year ago he was a raw-boned, pony-tailed seamer who prospered for South Australia but looked unlikely to progress further. Now he is a lithe, dedicated charger capable of generating the fastest deliveries in the world.

Gillespie's talent is exceeded by his determination. Playing third grade club cricket in Adelaide aged 18, he made a $1,000 bet with a friend that he'd be bowling for Australia in five years. He did it in three. ``I was still at school so a thousand bucks was quite a lot of money,'' he said, ``but I was sick of people telling me I couldn't do it. I'd decided I wanted to play Test cricket and was prepared to do anything to get there. I worked really hard and got some lucky breaks. My mate hasn't paid me yet and he's at Uni so I guess I'll have to wait a while.''

Luck features a lot in Gillespie's flat-toned explanations of his advance. He is ``lucky'' someone spotted his potential, ``lucky'' to be around such a wonderful team, ``lucky to have been bowling down the slope at Headingley on such a green deck. Blind Bob could have done that''. (He didn't think he bowled that well despite his seven for 37 figures.) Even a searing delivery in last winter's Melbourne Test which whistled from a length over Jimmy Adams's shoulder and cleared Ian Healy by two yards before cannoning into the sightscreen elicits little gratification. ``Aw, must have hit a wet spot on the pitch.'' (It was as dry as a bone.)

This self-effacing style conceals Gillespie's dizzying commitment to the cause. He's up at 7am every day to warm up in the hotel pool (''I'm not a morning person and I hate swimming but I force myself to go because I think it helps'') and is back there at night for a stretch off. He is the one to beat in training runs and sprints and does extra work on his own while the others are catching up. He practises harder than anyone, fretting about his action, constantly seeking advice, and marks out his run with a tape measure. In the field if you miss the earrings and the goatee, he is easily identifiable as the man perpetually swinging his arms to keep himself loose.

Who does he model himself on? ``Every fast bowler looks at Dennis Lillee as a focal point, he was just phenomenal. I have lots of memories of Merv Hughes and Craig McDermott bowling, and I wish I'd seen more of Rodney Hogg, I really admired him.'' There are hints of Lillee in Gillespie's long, forbidding run-up, of McDermott in his gigantic gather at the crease, and of Hogg's explosion in delivery. It's a menacing combination given its finishing touches by Jeff Hammond, another former Australia paceman and Gillespie's coach in Adelaide.

Hammond happened to be on hand in South Africa when the Australians arrived last February, and his protege soon hustled South Africa to 95 for seven in the second Test. Gillespie took eight for 103 in the game, was timed as fast as Donald and saw Australia to match (and series) victory in a nerveless ninth-wicket stand with Healy. He took 14 wickets in the three Tests and in the words of South Africa coach Bob Woolmer ``progressed rather too quickly for our liking''.

Injuries don't seem to have held him back either. After each one - a bad side strain in Melbourne caused by over-excitement, hamstring damage at Edgbaston and blisters the size of golf balls before Old Trafford - he has come back stronger and fitter. So it is hard to credit that underneath he is a quiet lad who prefers to recline in the shadows. ``I don't deliberately stay out of the limelight,'' he says, ``I'm not trying to be clever or anything, I'm just very shy. I don't like attention.''

Any more bowling like the last Test and he had better get used to it.