According to South Australians, there are a few items on the "We're chuffed about our state" checklist. Think of awardwinning Barossa Valley wines, Glenelg beach, and, much to the chagrin of the eastern states, a smug understanding that this particular colony was never used as a convict dumping-ground. If you ask those who live in SA, they'll tell you in no uncertain terms that culturally, geographically and climatically, they've got it all sewn up. They'll tell you they're proud of the Redbacks – the only state squad that's named after a poisonous spider that likes to live under your toilet seat.

They'll tell you that the yah-yah accent (they say "charnce" and "darnce" here) is a result of their non-penal history. And they'll tell you that their cricket ground is one of the most picturesque cricket grounds in the world. And although some of us from other parts of the country are happy arguing the toss over South Australia's merits, the last bit isn't in doubt. The Adelaide Oval is a cracker.

On the opening day of the second Test, Adelaidians from Hindley Street to Sir Donald Bradman Drive were yah-yahing in anticipation of the next round of Ashes action. But it's not just the quaintness of the original scoreboard or the regal backdrop of St Peter's Cathedral that make this venue unique: it's the punters. Adelaide Ovalians are, by their own admission, a knowledgable lot.

"We appreciate our cricket," says Phil the paper-seller, who hasn't missed the opening ball of an Adelaide Test in 13 years. "We're also well-mannered. We appreciate good play, and even if one of the Poms makes a ton, we'll clap. No worries." That's not to say, however, that South Aussies don't go in for a touch of parochialism. "Look out for Dizzy," Phil adds, referring to local hero Jason Gillespie. "He'll bowl well in front of his own, and then there's Lehmann. He's got to do well. The more Redbacks in the side, the better."

Meanwhile, under makeshift canvas awnings, the deckchair assemblers have been hard at work since the Vic Richardson Gates opened at 9am. "We come to this spot every year," says Melanie of Victor Harbour. "We bring a picnic and have a wonderful day. We're just hoping for a good match. We'd like to see the English do well. Entertainment, that's the important thing." Husband Roger, however, is more concerned with the application of his heavy-duty tropical-strength sunscreen. "I got horribly burnt last year," he says. "Not this time. I've got the hat and the long-sleeve shirt. I'm preparing for a long day in the outer."

He's not the only one. As the spectators assume vantage points in the Sir Edwin Smith Stand, and the Barmy Army claims vocal ownership of the hill, everyone's willing to admit that South Australians have another item to add to the chuff checklist. It's going to be a fabulous day.

"The weather's perfect for cricket watching," says Paul from London, as he removes his T-shirt, shows no interest in sunscreen and slips a Union Jack around his torso. "Adelaide's a great place, but you can forget the wine, I'll stick to lager, thanks." And as the sound system arcs up with Icehouse's rendition of the anthemic Great Southern Land, many locals join in. "Anyone will tell you it's a prisoner's island," sings Cathy from North Adelaide in perfect karaoke style," hidden in the summer for a million years."

As the tune changes to the ubiquitous Go Aussie Go, the kids go-Aussie-go crazy. The giant yellow plastic fingers wave, and boxing-kangaroo flags come out in force. "I wish Brett Lee was playing," says 10-year-old Dillon. "He's ace. He's my favourite." His sister Marita, 15, disagrees: "I was looking forward to Andy Flintoff," she says. "He's totally filthy." (That's a compliment by the way, if you were wondering.)

As the teams take the field for the singing of the respective national anthems, many visitors are surprised that the local populace seems to know the words to Advance Australia Fair. "I couldn't remember them if you paid me," says Martin from Sydney. "Adelaide people are a funny lot."

And as Phil of paper-caper fame sells the last of his tabloids and broadsheets and settles in for the match, he can't contain his excitement. "Who'd want to be anywhere else?" he asks. "Just look around you. There's history, sunshine, beauty and sport. We bloody well know what we're doing in this place."

If you challenge South Australians about the value of their state, they'll tell you, in no uncertain terms, that they have every right to yah-yah. And today the rest of us were joining in.

Christine Davey is a freelance journalist based in Melbourne.

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