What can you say about a man who names his grandchildren Garfield and Sachin? You could state the obvious and suggest that he loves cricket, but in Percy's case, that would do him scant justice. He has been to cricketing fandom what Bradman was to batting, only he carries on at an age when the Don had long since given up the willow for a stroll in the back garden. Percy Abeysekara is now 66 years old, but still has the fancy footwork of a middle-class Fred Astaire. Bespectacled and wearing a Sri Lankan shirt that's seen better days, he fast foots it up and down the top tier of the B Stand, waving the flag with a vigour that younger men would envy. Between breaks in the action and when the St. Sebastian Band from Kandana (two rows behind) pipes down momentarily, he tells you that he has been a cheering presence at over 1000 games, "both unofficial and official".

He saw Bradman bat when he was 12 ("he was out for 20") but his first match waving the flag was against the Indian provincial team Holkar in the 1950s ("Sarwate opened the bowling that day"). The band makes further conversation impossible for a while, especially the Bob Marley look-alike (albeit with trimmed hair) who plays a raucous tune on the trumpet.

Though he is seen as the ubiquitous Sri Lankan fan, Percy is first and foremost a cricket lover. He doesn't have a favourite Sri Lankan player, saying instead that he loves them all. He would much rather talk of his admirers overseas. "Sunil Gavaskar sent me his cap through Sidath Wettimuny after the World Cup in 1987 and Martin Crowe has given me two of his Man of the Match awards."

We are interrupted by Sachin Tendulkar's fabulous catch to send back Mahela Jayawardene and Percy says it's all the same to him who wins the final. "India and Sri Lanka are neighbours, aren't they, and it says in the good book that you should love thy neighbour. Anyway, the Indian players have always been nice to me, giving me souvenirs and always ready to chat."

The cheerleading experience hasn't been without controversy though and he mentions an incident in 1977 when he heckled Tony Greig. The English came here a year on from the West Indian tour of England, and Greig's infamous "Grovel" remark. Percy hadn't taken too kindly to that and he greeted Greig with a ditty that went "I'll send you up like a kite, you bloody sickening white".

As the Sri Lankan innings winds down with a whimper rather than a bang, he talks of his favourite batsmen. "I watched them all… Sir Garfield, the three Ws, Kanhai, Sunil Gavaskar (he mimics a cover-drive with his left hand)…but the best of the lot was from Sri Lanka. Satasivam played long before we got Test status but his late cuts…" He trails off, his eyes glazed over with nostalgia. You ask him about one of the modern-day greats, Aravinda de Silva, and the rather lukewarm applause he got as he walked off for the last time on home soil. Percy holds his hands up in a gesture of resignation. "You have to ask the crowd why they did what they did. Some people have a different perspective."

He has worked with ACL cables ("We have done the lighting at this ground") for 40 years and been married for 34. He drags me along to meet his wife, Melanie, answering calls of "Percy" with a regal wave of the hand and a wave of the flag. Melanie is quiet and soft-spoken and confesses to "loving music and dance as much as he loves cricket".

She tells you of an incident the other night when they went dancing at the Hilton's Blue Elephant nightclub. "Waqar Younis came and danced with me and afterwards, he asked me to take good care of Percy. Martin Crowe said the same thing a while back." Now that the children have flown the nest, she can afford to go for all the cricket with Percy, she tells you with a shy smile. We walk back to Percy's corner of the stand, myself a good two steps behind the celebrity. The band is still at it and an awestruck English fan captures the dancing on the seats with his Handycam.

As I walk back, the grills outside are in full swing, with lamb chops and grilled lingus the most requested items. Outside the grandstand, the Kandyan dancers are making the final preparations for their mid-match performance. Some of the girls are so beautiful in their costumes that you're tempted to hum, Save the Last Dance for Me. And then… the heavens opened. And how!

Dileep Premachandran is assistant editor of Wisden.com in India.

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