When Warne, 23 years old with 11 Tests under his belt, journeyed to England in 1993 he did so as a leg-spinner of promise. When he left, six Tests and 34 wickets later, he did so as cricket's hottest prospect.
Of course, nobody knew then what Warne would go on to achieve, but his first act in Ashes cricket offered a thrilling glimpse into the future.
"Any batsman in the world would have perished, with that ball"
If a single moment has the power to encapsulate a professional sportsman's career, Warne's leg break to Mike Gatting on day two of the first Test at Old Trafford is that moment.
At the time, it was viewed for what it was: an outrageously good ball. But, as time passed, the delivery developed an otherworldly feel; as if a wizard with blond hair had cast a spell over an enemy that would last for years. Sixteen years have passed. Look at the footage today and the delivery looks plain frightening.
The ball started its trajectory in line with the stumps, but drifted away so markedly that it pitched well outside leg stump. Gatting planted his front foot in line with the ball and offered a standard forward defensive.
The ball started its trajectory in line with the stumps, but drifted away so markedly that it pitched well outside leg stump. Gatting planted his front foot in line with the ball and offered a standard forward defensive.
It would not be enough, however, as the ball spun so venomously as to bypass the generously framed England No.3 and take the top of off stump.
Gatting, for his part, did nothing wrong. He covered his bases. He would not be out leg before, probably would not be caught. But there was nothing he could do. Any batsman in the world would have perished to that ball, that day.
When the bails fell, Ian Healy, behind the stumps, jumped for joy in a star formation. Warne wore an expression that was half smile, half laugh and raised his fist triumphantly.
Gatting, a fine player of spin, was gobsmacked.
He looked at the pitch, a man in need of an explanation. On his slow walk back to the dressing room, Gatting turned his gaze back to the pitch area - raised his eyebrows, pursed his lips - and thought thoughts of disbelief.
Gatting, for his part, did nothing wrong. He covered his bases. He would not be out leg before, probably would not be caught. But there was nothing he could do. Any batsman in the world would have perished to that ball, that day.
When the bails fell, Ian Healy, behind the stumps, jumped for joy in a star formation. Warne wore an expression that was half smile, half laugh and raised his fist triumphantly.
Gatting, a fine player of spin, was gobsmacked.
He looked at the pitch, a man in need of an explanation. On his slow walk back to the dressing room, Gatting turned his gaze back to the pitch area - raised his eyebrows, pursed his lips - and thought thoughts of disbelief.
"He looked as though someone had just nicked his lunch," said England skipper Graham Gooch, who had a front-row seat at the non-striker's end.
Australia, having been skittled for 289, went on to win the match by 179 runs, and the series 4-1. Australia's hold over England was in its early stages in 1993, but the rocket-launcher emergence of Warne lent an air of inevitability to the forseeable destinies of both teams.
The Ball Of The Century is sometimes referred to simply as That Ball. That being the case, Warne - with 708 Test wickets and an influence on cricket that transcends sport - can comfortably be called That Man.
Australia, having been skittled for 289, went on to win the match by 179 runs, and the series 4-1. Australia's hold over England was in its early stages in 1993, but the rocket-launcher emergence of Warne lent an air of inevitability to the forseeable destinies of both teams.
The Ball Of The Century is sometimes referred to simply as That Ball. That being the case, Warne - with 708 Test wickets and an influence on cricket that transcends sport - can comfortably be called That Man.
