Australia's new pin-up boy

Ricky Ponting spent many years on the wall of Michael Clarke's bedroom. Young boys such as Clarke have always convinced themselves they would play for Australia, but it is rare for it to happen - and so quickly. With a dazzling all-round century and his highest first-class score, Clarke has become Australia's new pin-up boy.

During an era where it is sometimes necessary to harvest for up to a decade in the Pura Cup before raising a nod from Trevor Hohns, Clarke was only the fourth batsman since Darren Lehmann in 1998 to begin a baggy-green career. He needs only to turn in the dressing-room to bump into Lehmann, Matthew Hayden or Simon Katich to understand how runs weigh down selection tables. But with Clarke, scores banked or not, the promotions were worth the rush.

On his first two Test days he paid off a huge chunk of the mortgage, and showed that despite an inferior first-class average of 37.67 to the 46.56 of Brad Hodge, his main rival to step in for the injured Ponting, he was the correctly chosen one. There were boyish kisses of bat and hat on reaching his century; there were hugs in the stands by his parents Les and Debbie, grandparents and friend-manager-coach Neil D'Costa. Mum and Dad met him on the boundary for cuddles, congratulations and a motherly "I love you." He could now dine with the 11 other Australians with centuries at their first attempt, including Mark Waugh, who watched with little emotion from the stands.

Like Ponting, Clarke spent much of his adolescence as Australia's next wonder boy. Both were fast-tracked through state and national systems, and designated as future Test captains. Still baby-faced at 23 and fuelled by nervous energy on and off the field, Clarke is nicknamed "Pup" by his team-mates. And as a pure-bred he was picked for New South Wales against India five years ago and scored his age before being bowled by Anil Kumble. As Australia's 389th Test player, he gained revenge in style.

The grooming tips came from the Academy, and within a couple of seasons spectators were actually going to Pura Cup matches just to watch him. Buzzing whenever he stood to walk out, they leaned forward to be closer to Clarke's cheerful aggression, and were swept back by the power of his onand off-side play. Excitement continued to bubble and the boy who grew up eating his mother's rissoles in the working-class suburb of Liverpool, in western Sydney, would quickly settle at the top table. When he signed a three-year deal with Dunlop-Slazenger worth A$1.25million in April his stomach could have ordered a personal chef.

With a career seemingly mapped out, an international call interrupted a bus trip with New South Wales in 2002-03 and caught him embarrassingly unprepared. With bat and scissors he is a brash experimenter, and feels the bottle-blonde hair hangs trendily with green or gold. But heading to his one-day international debut against England he feared the locks were too lairy and clipped them before shaving an unbeaten 39 off the tourists. The reputation grew with tours of West Indies and India; his part-time left-arm spin developed too, and after 34 ODIs there were more streaks in his hair than his game.

"Whenever there's a big situation he seems to be able to step in and do a good job," Ponting said of Clarke when he made an unbeaten 44 off 26 balls in the TVS Series final at Kolkata last November. First acts don't come much greater than walking out with the team in sudden strife and a pack of spinners ready to strike. Striding off after collecting 151 means the posters on walls will now be of Clarke, as he gives a young generation of dreamers something to look up to.