When Lance Klusener strode into the arrivals hall at Johannesburg International this week he was bowled over. The biggest crowd to ever welcome back a hero, bigger than any afforded to Nelson Mandela, Bafana Bafana, Baby Jake Matlala or Penny Heyns, was waiting for him. And for the first time in over a month, the man they call Zulu, froze.

Over the past month Klusener had cricket fans worldwide gasping in awe as he fearlessly made Glenn McGrath, Shoaib Akhtar, Shane Warne, Wasim Akram and Javagal Srinath seem as threatening as a five year old with a sponge ball, allowing himself just the faintest flicker of a smile as he watched the ball soar over the ropes and often out of the various stadiums. On the biggest cricketing stage of the world, Klusener had the time of his life.

Not the best of travellers, and thinking he would be able to slip in to the country unnoticed, Klusener couldn't believe the reception. The ice in his veins had become blood once again. Once again he was human. ``Nothing can prepare you for that,'' he said. ``I have never seen so many people (in an arrivals hall) and to think that they are all there cheering for you is overwhelming.

``It's true that I don't like a lot of attention but in a way a welcome like that was great because it reflects the interest that people in this country, whether they are black or white or green or purple, have in cricket and that can only be a good thing.''

Klusener simply exudes presence. Whether he's striding out to the wicket in green and gold or what he was wearing when we chatted a couple of days after his return from England - faded shorts, shoes that are falling apart and a woolly sweater which has seen better days. The image in front of me, face to face, wasn't the same beamed into our lives via television during the World Cup. TV had made him into an invincible demi-god.

But far from the battle fields and now swallowed up in an outsize Natal Cricket Union armchair, he hardly looks the picture of a crusading Braveheart. Without a three pound two ounce bat in his hand and 38 runs to get off 12 balls he is like Asterix with a vial of magic potion and no Romans to fight.

Klusener's World Cup exploits resulted in frenetic media attention, with the British Press lauding themselves as experts on every facet of the life of the former country districts player from Gingindlovu.

In true tabloid style they came up with their diet of ``believe-it-or-not'' stories. Like the one of the United Cricket Board employing someone to help the all-rounder carry his ``coffin'', heavily laden with six three kilogram bats, which tops Klusener's top three list. Then there's the tale that he has so many injuries that it takes 2kg of bandages to strap him up before he goes out to bat. And what of the yarn that he is an honourary Zulu prince?

They have, as has television, mistaken his confidence for arrogance and have failed to capture his easygoing, unassuming nature.

The British media interest in the player of the tournament has been matched by South Africa's, who are scrapping with every fan in this country for a minute of the all-rounder's time.

It is ironical that someone who so dislikes being the centre of attention has become just that. And the fact that he is very much the reluctant hero, makes him a more interesting and compelling one. At his arrival there were even written proposals of marriage.

It is perhaps too soon to tell but he remains largely unaffected by the frenzy that his powerhitting and in-your-face bowling has caused. ``We didn't hear much about what was happening over here,'' he said, matter-of-factly. ``Sure, I spoke to my parents and that but you just want to find out how every one was doing. They occasionally said that people had said that they enjoyed how I was playing but you don't really think about it too much.''

Despite South Africa's World Cup semi-final exit, it is apparent that he revelled in the ordeal. ``It was great to be a part of something like that. The atmosphere was obviously totally different from when we were there on tour last year. Then the grounds were filled mainly by English supporters and you know that they are normally very quiet and just clap politely but this time with guys coming out to support their teams it was much more festive. There was so much noise when we played India and Pakistan that you would have thought we were in Calcutta. We had a lot of support. Lots of tour parties came out and of course there are so many South Africans over there. It was great. When we played at The Oval, it was like playing a home game.''

The expectation that accompanied his every visit to the wicket in England will probably never dissipate and future Test and limited-over performances will be awaited with anticipation.

But while the Natal Dolphins' player acknowledges this, he is quick to stress that it will not alter his approach to the game.

``Look, I always want to be entertaining when I play, but I never go into any match expecting to do well. That doesn't mean that I don't give my best but I always think that you must just try to get what you can out of a game. If there are a certain number of runs to get off a limited number of balls, then you try to get the maximum. If you win, it's a bonus.

``Now, if you went into a game expecting to win and didn't, then you'd be disappointed. And if you expect to win and you do, then you're still disappointed 'cos there's no excitement. I just play my best and have no expectations. Sure, sometimes I'm going to fail. I'm not superhuman. I am just an ordinary guy.''

Just an ordinary guy, he may be, but for five weeks he became a South African icon. We all related to him and while Jonty Rhodes may have been brilliant in the field, Allan Donald ruthless with the ball, it was through Klusener with his air of confidence and nerves of steel that we truly lived the tournament. And because he seemed such a large part of our lives, we forget that we are not really a part of his. The reality is that despite the fact that he seems essentially the same whacky, relaxed, what-you-see-is-what-you-get-guy, he will never again be able to wear the cloak of anonymity.

``Ja, I know it will be different. Instead of the ten people that normally come up and speak to you, there will now probably be a hundred. You know you can say that it won't affect you and you can plan your day to do all the stuff you need to but I'm realistic and I know that there will be demands I have to meet. I understand that, and am aware of my responsibility but people must realise that I won't always be able to speak to all of them or sign every single autograph. You just can't satisfy everyone.''

Perhaps his biggest asset lies in the fact that he so comfortable with himself. He doesn't think himself a hero. All he's done, he says, is enjoyed himself playing a game he loves.

Leanne Knock, a personal assistant at the NCU, returns from lunch during our interview and walks over to her desk. She's a new face and has never met Klusener. ``Hi,'' she says. ``Howzit,'' says Klusener, ``I'm Lance.'' This isn't the only distraction. Klusener's cell phone rings. Hansie Cronje's name flashes up on the screen. ``It's Hansie, do you mind if I take it?'' he asks. ``Hello H, hoe gaan dit?'' and the pair have a conversation.

An hour earlier he had given yet another media interview, followed by a meeting with his sponsors. It was at the latter appointment that Klusener decided not to take delivery of the spanking new 4x4 he won when named player of the World Cup. ``I am selling it and will donate half of the amount to the players' pool because I didn't win it alone and they deserve it.''

Klusener smashed 13 sixes in the competition, some of which extended South Africa's lifeline in the tournament, but more satisfying than any of those was a telephone call he received from Nelson Mandela.

``It was really special,'' he laughs. ``It was just after the Pakistan game and the guys told me that the (then) president was on the phone, but I thought they were having me on. I figured if they wanted to play around then I was going to beat them at their own game, so I answered in Zulu. We had the whole conversation in Zulu, I couldn't believe that it was him. That was definitely an unbelievable moment.''

As unbelievable as the moments he gave us, one could say.