The crowd for the India-South Africa semi-final may have been disappointing, but expect them to be rammed in like sardines when Sri Lanka take on Australia in today's match of the tournament. If you're not a cricket nut in Colombo this weekend, earplugs are the sensible option because that's all folk in the street seem to be talking about. Even conversations about the LTTE and peace talks eventually veer round to cricket and Sri Lankan hopes. Most people you talk to, once they learn you're an Indian, roll out a line about South Asian pride and how wonderful it would be for India and Sri Lanka to meet in the final. The more honest ones cut the crap and tell you they can't wait to see Sri Lanka beat the Indians – Big Brother in these parts – black and blue in the final. The South Asian final theme is so popular that it appears some have deliberately chosen to ignore the identity of their semi-final opponents. Don't Australia offer the sternest possible test, you ask. Sheepish grins usually follow, before they tell you about the pitch at the Khettarama that will spin like a top for Murali and inspire a triumph that will be some recompense for all the slights they had to endure on previous tours of Australia. Some of them get so animated while talking about the Aussies that "I love Darrell Hair/Ross Emerson" T-shirt wearers would be strongly advised to keep a distance, preferably more than 22 yards.

The team press conferences are again as interesting as reading through an insurance manual; bland (and at times, idiotic) questions vying for space with insipid answers. Most of them are such a colossal waste of time and effort that it's a wonder anyone bothers. What some of us wouldn't give for a John McEnroe or an Allan Iverson to get the dictaphones whirring with excitement and furious scribbles tearing up paper. Even a Gazza-style burp beats this.

Redemption comes in the shape of a visit to the distinctive Cricket Club Café, on Queens Road. The bungalow is a throwback to colonial times, and some of the memorabilia on display from that era will really test the optic nerves. If you're a cricket aficionado, you need at least half an hour to walk around the place, peering at every photograph and checking each autographed bat, before you settle down for a meal and a beer or two. The Players Cigarette cards from 1934 are certainly worth five minutes or more, especially the likenesses of Bradman, McCabe and Hammond.

The owner is Australian and there is a distinctly Aussie bias to the place, with numerous cuttings from Melbourne's Argus (mostly embellishing the Bradman legend) and freeze frames of some unforgettable moments in the nation's cricketing history (Sabina Park, 1995 comes with a scorecard next to it…SR Waugh 200). It's safe to say that if a cricketer's autograph or picture isn't up on the walls, he isn't worth a mention. You only hope that they're well insured because some intrepid lock-breaker could flog this collection for an awful lot of money.

Sepia-tinted pictures dominate, and the most incongruous one – in the midst of all the action shots – is one titled "Toshack and Bradman wearing their new Mybro hats". Now, there's nostalgia with a twist for you. The nomenclature on the menu is no less fascinating. Gatting's Garlic Prawns is first to be crossed off the "to eat" list for obvious reasons, while Sachin's Sausage and Mash and Botham's Banana Split conjure up images that the taste buds find slightly disturbing.

The same could be said for Boycott's Beef and Knott's Nachos, though I do eventually settle on Beefie's Bolognese (presumably, they meant Beefy). My companion at dinner, who confesses to a sneaking weakness for West Indies quick bowlers of `70s and `80s vintage, laments the absence of a Michael Holding shrine in some corner of the bungalow, but all things considered, it's a fantastic evening. It's not every day that you get to tuck into your food with Sir Donald and Imran Khan watching over you. What's more, if you feel so inclined, you can raise a glass to those images in sepia …there's something to be said for old heroes in white flannels, with not an advertising logo or sticker in sight.

Dileep Premachandran is assistant editor of Wisden.com in India.

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