Cullinan can be difficult and has been known to sit in different parts of the plane from his colleagues, none of whom can make head nor tail of him either. It is not that he is a bad fellow - he is much nicer than he lets on, though every bit as complicated - it is just that it started coming out that way and it is devilishly hard to change. He is sensitive, gifted, flawed, suspicious, cranky and wounded, though not fatally.

As ever, it all began in the formative years. Cullinan was a prodigy, such an easy thing to be, with those breathtaking innings and those drop kicks from the half-way line that win the match in its dying minutes. But he was also a son, born into a troubled family. His relationship with his father was particularly confusing. At matches, his father, a drinker, could rant and rave with awful intensity. He was dominating, loving, sometimes threatening, sometimes embarrassing and always protective. Once he marched across to an umpire for an opposing school who had given his boy out and barked ``Here's the bat, show me the red mark''. And perhaps it had been a diddle (school umpires are about as reliable as fathers in these matters). But it was not much of a way to prepare his son for the injustices of the world.

Throughout his career, Cullinan has over-reacted to setbacks. Accordingly, he has never been able to relax; the better to express his remarkable gifts. At times, he has convinced himself that life is in a conspiracy against him. He tries, succeeds for a time and then something goes wrong. He is a young man full of love and seeking security.

Much can be told about Cullinan from his reaction to the unusual spelling of his first name. Asked about it once, he growled ``My father was illiterate''. Of course, it was not true. Although his family could not be counted among the silvertails, nor were they affected by the hardship with which some white and most black South Africans are familiar. His father is a small businessman who raised his family in comfortable circumstances and sent his son to Queen's College in Cape Town, where his sporting abilities were immediately recognised.

One senses that Cullinan has always been fighting to balance his abilities and his desire to be ordinary. To be given so much can be unsettling. Nor is acclamation as a prodigy easily managed. Once a dispute arose between his school and Border over the boy's availability. The headmaster insisted, as headmasters will, that his pupil played for the school, whereupon thousands of people turned out to watch him. He was out in the opening over and most of them left. Meanwhile, the dispute had reached the front pages of the local newspapers.

Cullinan has not settled down since. Beneath the calm exterior lies a fury that will not be stilled. He has moved from province to province and let people down as the demons resurface. Even his year at Derbyshire was disturbed, though he is not alone in that. Repeatedly it breaks apart. He is still trying to come to terms with himself. Repeatedly his thoughts have led him astray.

As much can be told from his bizarre, almost perverse provocation of the Australians. Determined to confront them, presumably to prove his toughness, he immediately started assaulting them from slip, an approach that astonished his opponents. They went after the upstart. Cullinan has little sense of his own preservation; he may be self-centred but he is not selfish. They say Shane Warne is his greatest enemy, but really he does not care all that much; he is just puzzled, that's all. In any case, Cullinan needs no greater enemy than himself.

Nor could Cullinan deliver on his promises. Warne tormented him with his flipper and soon the Australians were laughing. His ego in tatters, Cullinan fell apart. Much the same happened last winter as Cullinan was destroyed and dropped, a humiliation that brought forth an indignant complaint that he had not been given a chance to open, as if the entire team should arrange itself around him. Eventually, the chance came in a 50-over match.

At first, it worked, as Cullinan, given his head, punished the pacemen. Then Warne was thrown the ball, whereupon Cullinan charged, swung outrageously and was stumped by yards. He has needed someone to counsel him, to walk beside him in the darkness of the world. But no one can get close enough because there are dogs barking at the door.

Now comes another chance to release the gift that lies within. There is still time. Cullinan is a young man. It can be done. After all, Nasser Hussain and Mark Ramprakash also had to slay their demons. Cullinan is a superb batsman, better than his Test average. He is a likeable man, too, though rather tense. Perhaps he will not truly fulfil himself until he learns to enjoy the world, with all its ways, a little bit more.