During that time the most talked about shoulder in cricket has been rebuilt. Its owner was in a sling for six weeks. The physiotherapy, the massage and the daily exercising seemed never to end.
For the most revered son of Australian sport, for the surfer of a decade ago turned spinner of the age, this was the biggest over of his life. Bigger than the over which turned the World Cup semi-final against the West Indies in India, bigger than the World Cup final itself in Lahore, bigger even than the first over that he bowled for Australia on this very ground exactly nine years ago.
Warne was roundly booed when he walked in to bat on Saturday, but he was booed in an amiable way as if he were a boy exposed for cribbing in the classroom.
The boos gave in to applause yesterday as he went to his captain, who stood by the stumps at the Randwick end of the splendid Sydney Cricket Ground. The sponsored shades were carefully folded, and, with the beloved 'baggy green', handed to umpire Hair.
He had put on weight, we all agreed, and looked more wrestler than wrist-spinner, but what could you expect from all those pizzas and no more cigarettes, we agreed further.
His lips were painted in suncream. His bleached locks were cut short for the occasion, and the ever-present Nike ear stud sparkled in the strong sun.
Mark Butcher was on strike, a left-hander with the fast bowler's footmarks to fret over and no history of success against spin. Here Butcher was up against the master of spin and not for a moment would you have bet against this bloke with 313 Test match wickets to his name.
Warne settled at the end of his approach in that deliberate, imposing way of his. The huge, capacity crowd fell silent. Then, perhaps the greatest slow bowler of them all took a deep breath, wrapped his famous fingers around the ball and set off on his journey.
The first one was perfect, an ``as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted'' ball that Butcher blocked. Warne breathed out. The second was similar, but Butcher chose to make his defiant point and slogged it over mid-wicket for four.
Warne squinted and licked his lips. The third one was on the spot again and Butcher, unsure of the direction of the spin, propped forward. Warne, sensing the uncertainty in his opponent, turned crisply for his mark.
The fourth ball was the one. The inevitable moment that only the most confident and most gifted sportsman can contrive, the performance when the world is watching. Butcher played back to a leg-break which ripped into his pants; back he played when he should have been forward. He was plum lbw to many people, no issue.
As Daryll Hair began to raise his finger, Warne ran at Ian Healy, his old accomplice, and at Mark Taylor, his general. The others came too, to acclaim the living legend who was back among them. The 40,000 people in the SCG stood to worship, the noise they made in his honour was unbelievable.
Warne might have got it wrong in Sri Lanka four years ago, when he dealt dirty by accepting money from an Indian bookmaker for pitch and team information, but Australia loves him all the same. He thrills the people with his style, his smile and his resounding successes.
He is an entertainer, a bon viveur in a world of sporting stereotypes, and, Lord knows, cricket has few enough of those to seduce its audience.
His final figures were barely worth a second glance - he was MacGilled yesterday, as were five of the England batsmen - but the loop and the dip and the threat were there; if not quite the fizz, the zip or the side-spin of old.
The leg-break worked nicely, and there was plenty of over-spin to savour, thus the extra bounce and the hurried batsman.
A couple of flippers and a googly or two completed the set on a most satisfactory day for Australia when Shane Warne took his 314th Test wicket.
It all suggested that there were plenty of revolutions left in his shoulder yet.