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A few days ago Shane Warne was nursing his prize for the longest drive at Celtic Manor Golf Club, a Taylor Made driver, when he announced that this was as big as it gets. He was talking, however, not about the oversized metal wood but about the World Cup. ``Playing in a World Cup and especially in a final at Lord's would be every Australian kid's dream.''

It was not like that at the start. Asked if he was taking the 1975 tournament seriously, Australia's captain, Ian Chappell, declared that his team would be trying to win the first World Cup, but their main reason for travel was to retain the Ashes in the four Tests which followed. Sri Lanka were not a Test team; they had qualified for the last eight along with East Africa and I remember them sipping nervous champagne cocktails in the Long Room and asking if they should bowl straight or to one side of the stumps. One-day cricket was still a bash-around to pay for the longer game.

The sun shone as we left Lord's at that first gathering and I did feel that a certain Olympic spirit had ignited. It was fun, but there was no way that Brian Hastings of New Zealand and West Indian Lance Gibbs would continue to laugh and joke over the runners and riders if there was cricket to be played.

I felt excited at the prospect of seeing fine cricketers of the world in serious opposition. But by Saturday, however, I found myself writing a requiem for The Sunday Telegraph. Who would believe now, in 1999, that World Cup history began with a match in which the side batting second made no attempt to score the runs needed to win?

On Saturday, June 7, in the middle of a prolonged heatwave, England scored 334 for four from their 60 overs thanks to a long, battering innings by Dennis Amiss, 137, and a walloping 51 not out by Chris Old. In front of 16,274 spectators who had paid £19,000 to see cricketing history made, Sunil Gavaskar, playing under Venkat's captaincy, decided that the target was too high to chase. Gavaskar, who opened the batting, was 36 not out at the end.

Quickly, however, the first tournament became an obvious success. There were outstanding matches and one great game at Edgbaston, where West Indies beat Pakistan by one wicket. The noise from the start was deafening. It might have been Kensington Oval or Karachi. Edgbaston's cold grey terraces had disappeared beneath 18,000 stamping feet.

Deryck Murray's 61 not out was a tense masterpiece which saw West Indies home with two balls to go and nine West Indian wickets down. And so the Prudential Cup was won by West Indies, who beat Australia, and the exciting history was begun.

England had always appeared to be the natural venue for the World Cup and hosted the first three, but the tournament belongs to the world of cricket and rightly moved on.

A quick list of recollections would have to include the three astonishing run-outs by Vivian Richards in that first final and then in 1979 the hitting of Collis King as England tried to win their first cup with an attack which was more knitted by hope and prayer than by any planning. Boycott, Gooch and Larkins had to bowl one of the 12-over stints. Viv Richards, 138, and King, 86, kept smashing the paintwork on the top tier of the Lord's grandstand.

I guess that the two West Indian wins thrilled the Caribbean but nothing ever ignited a nation like India's win over West Indies in the final of 1983. I remember leaving Lord's and being clapped on the back by a large Sikh who said in Bermondsey brogue: ``We dunnit, mate.''

Life on tour in Pakistan and India for the 1987 World Cup is contained in my diary. Maybe a quote will set the scene as England prepared for their first match of the tournament, against West Indies. ``5.30am - Lahore. Open curtains. A full moon glows to my right and the darkness lightens from my left. Birds begin to caw and wheel about the tall trees outside the Intercontinental. On the table alongside me are the three empty Muree beer bottles which Tim Rice and I were so sure were the perfect nightcap. The England team, down the road, will be shaved, packed and ready for the 40-mile bus trip to Gujranwala. Our small bus joins the convoy which the police are escorting. The ground is new. The pavilion is high with many small balconies. BBC TV are well-stationed.''

I was about to commentate on a remarkable England win. Allan Lamb batted with sheer brilliance, demolishing Courtney Walsh, who bowled his first five overs for 11 runs with one wicket and the comeback 4.3 overs for 54. Walsh bowled four wides and a no-ball in the final over when England wanted 13 with only Gladstone Small left to bat.

There is another note which says much about the business of relaying the stories from the sub-continent: ``For technical reasons our effects to London had Urdu commentary on it. A bewildered engineer told us solemnly, 'Land line is restricted to earth centre at Islamabad'. It meant nothing to Ray Illingworth or to me. Got back to hotel, took two bricks out of the wall to join my Tandy to a telephone line by means of alligator clips.''

This was the Calcutta final which was set up for India to play Pakistan but Graham Gooch had swept India away, literally, on a turner in Bombay and Australia had ended Pakistan's progress in Lahore. I remember the final only for England's nervous opening bowling and for Mike Gatting's disastrous reverse sweep of a ball which had no pace on it and lobbed up to short third man. Australia's cup.

No home side has ever won the big prize. In Australia in 1992 Pakistan beat England by putting a side of young attacking talent in the field. It was a wonderful tournament for Imran Khan, who never lost faith in the full length for fast bowlers and the wrist spin of Mushtaq Ahmed. Australia, however, was not a success. It was played in the rainy season with a lousy rain rule. Remember how South Africa's target was reassessed to leave them 22 runs to win off one ball from England?

And then Sri Lanka, once the novices, were a Test-playing country and then the World Cup holders. They deserve a wonderful ovation at Lord's when they walk out to face England on Friday because they won the cup in some style. The innings played by Aravinda de Silva in the final was a model of determination and talent. But who could forget their semi-final when Sanath Jayasuriya and Romesh Kaluwitharana were both caught at third man in the first over? Then came Tendulkar's superb 65 before an astonishing Indian collapse. I walked back to the Grand Hotel after my last commentary stint and switched on the TV to see police on the field, smoke and the sort of rioting Bengalis do best. Sri Lanka beat India by default but were winning anyway. All I hope is that they remembered the handed-down advice - if you have to beat India in Calcutta, keep the team bus purring outside the dressing room and pointing in the right direction.