Ranatunga spoke a few words in English, at which de Saram, who had two (and a half) blues from Cambridge, and was a member of the country's westernised elite and a relative of the Bandaranaike family, exclaimed: ``Oh! It speaks English!''

It was evident that the anger Ranatunga is said to have felt at that remark was still burning inside him when during a television discussion last week, the former captain said: ``When I started playing Test cricket, I would take a train and then a bus from the station to reach the test venue. Now we have earned money, achieved better conditions, and the players travel in the best vehicles and live in good houses, in the best localities. There are some people who don't like it.''

It was a swipe at Colombo's English-speaking upper classes, the very same that are now engaged in a courtbattle to dislodge the ``third-rate scum'' -- those with no lineage to boast of, only newly acquired wealth -- from the administration of Sri Lankan cricket.

The debate on class and cricket is as old as the game itself. Though Arjuna Ranatunga's removal as a poorly performing captain at the age of 35 is a reasonable enough move, it is also an important episode of the dynamics of class in Sri Lanka, which has most recently found expression in the struggles within the country's cricket board.

Till the mid-90s, Sri Lankan cricket was in the hands of the old guard, those educated at Royal College or St Thomas, Colombo's elite schools, or who went to study abroad, whose families constituted Sri Lanka's blue blood. As long as this set controlled the administration of the game, they could treat the players, often from less affluent families, like performing fleas.

About five years ago, at about the same time that Sri Lanka began doing well in world cricket, the old order in cricket administration wasoverthrown by a series of coups staged by brash young arrivistes like Upali Dharmadasa or Thilanga Sumathipala.

These were the people who had made their money during the era of President Premadasa, considered no less an arriviste himself. Sumathipala, who became president of the cricket board in 1998, and whose re-election this year is being legally challenged, belongs to a family that owns the largest chain of bookmaking shops in a country where the business is on the grey edges of the law.

Two of Arjuna's brothers held important positions in Sumathipala's board. The Ranatunga family can be described as small-town upwardly mobile middle-class.

Typically of this category, the boys went to Buddhist revivalist schools that had been set up to counter the westernising influences of the old public schools and to produce leaders who would have a solid grounding in Sinhala-Buddhist values as well as English.

There are many from these institutions in positions of power and eminence today. Depending on theiradaptability, some, like Roshan Mahanama, have found a place at the side tables of Sri Lanka's high-society. But not yet the brash Ranatungas. It is no coincidence that Arjuna and Roshan have never got on with each other.

Not surprisingly, the players -- many of them from less privileged backgrounds -- found it easier to deal with the new order than with the formidable gentlemen of yore.

But that did not help to drown out the murmurs of discontent in the drawing rooms and clubs of Colombo 7 at the ``down the drain'' manner in which Sri Lankan cricket had been ``hijacked'' by Sumathipalaand the Ranatungas along with ``that thug'', sports minister S.B. Dissanayake.

Big money had started pouring in to the game after the 1996 World Cup victory but those who believed only they could be in charge of such vast amounts were left holding their brandies instead.

But as long as the team was winning, there was nothing to do but down the drink and go home. Sri Lanka's poor performance in the run-up to the WorldCup and its ignominious exit in the first round matches of the cup gave them the excuse they were waiting for.

Enter Clifford Ratwatte. Pedigree: Impeccable. Brother of the prime minister, favourite uncle of the president. His nomination for president of the cricket board this year was backed by every ``gentleman'' in Colombo besides the first lady of the country.

What happened at the election in March this year has been well-documented. Now, as the courts decide the validity of that election, the government has appointed an interim committee to administer the game.

It is no coincidence that the interim committee comprises only ``gentlemen'', far removed from the world of the Sumathipalas and the Ranatungas: Understated, squeaky clean professionals, at the top of one or another big league private company.

They not just sacked Ranatunga, but also overlooked his reported choice of successor Aravinda de Silva, whose allegiance to Sumathipala is well-known. Instead they chose Sanath Jayasuriya, a yokel,and a safe bet. He may have an ambitious streak, but he is not likely to upset the applecart of Colombo's social arrangements.

This round to the gentry. But it's not over yet. Every day unfolds this drama some more. And neither Ranatunga or Sumathipala have given up.