There are iconic cricket grounds all over the world, but Adelaide Oval sits in its own category. For me, it’s the best overall place to play cricket.

Some grounds are intimidating, others are historic, some are beautiful. Adelaide Oval manages to be all three while still feeling like home.

You walk out there and instantly sense the history, the care, the pride. The old scoreboard stands there like a guardian from another era. The grass always looks like it’s been hand-combed. The cathedral watches over everything. It’s a ground that feels carefully loved, not just maintained.

Then there’s the surface itself, at its peak, one of the fairest and most enjoyable pitches to play on in the world. A proper Test wicket. Early movement for the quicks, genuine value for good batting, and enough wear over five days to bring everyone into the game.

You had to think your way through spells there. Day one could be lively, day two perfect for batting, day three a grind, day four starting to talk, and day five rewarding the patient. As a bowler, that’s all you can ask, a pitch that challenges but doesn’t cheat the contest. And as a spectator, it provides exactly what Test cricket is meant to look like: a shifting story written over time.

But what makes Adelaide Oval special isn’t just the cricket, it’s the whole experience. South Australia throws its arms open when the Test comes to town. The tents out the back, the entertainment, the relaxed energy, the families on the hill, the murmurs of the crowd throughout the day.

You cross the bridge after stumps and step into a city buzzing like it’s hosting a festival. The bars, the food, the river, the sunset, Adelaide knows how to turn a match into an event with genuine excitement.

My memories there are some of the strongest of my career. Most are good ones, but a couple carry weight I’ll feel forever.

The toughest was the Test after Phillip Hughes’ passing. Playing that match at Adelaide Oval was incredibly emotional. It didn’t feel like cricket in the usual sense; it felt like a tribute, a responsibility, and a kind of grief we were all learning how to carry.

There were moments in that game where it was hard to focus, where the mind drifted, where the heart felt heavy. But we played for him. We felt his presence with us.

And when we beat India, the celebrations didn’t look like our everyday celebrations. There were tears, sadness, and relief wrapped together. Singing the team song in a circle with his Test number, it’s a moment that can still pull emotion out of me instantly.

There are lighter memories too. I played at Adelaide when Adam Gilchrist retired. In one match, he stood up to the stumps to me, which, if I’m honest, I wasn’t impressed with.

The solution was pretty simple, bowl quick enough that he’d naturally move back to where a keeper belongs.

During a lunch break, he replaced a broken keeping pad, tossed it aside, and I grabbed it. I’m not someone who collects memorabilia but having a piece of Gilly’s last Test behind the stumps at Adelaide Oval, that’s special. It feels like owning a chapter of history without trying to.

And then there’s 2013/14, a Test I’ll never forget for as long as I live. So much was happening in that Ashes series, and after Brisbane, the noise around my consistency followed me as it always had. Backing up from Test to Test was something people doubted about me, and something I doubted about myself at times.

Adelaide felt like a test within the Test: Can I do it again? Can I back up Brissy with another good performance? When I walked off with seven wickets in the first innings and the crowd rose for a standing ovation, it hit me deep. I actually teared up.

I felt the appreciation, but more than that, I felt relief, that I wasn’t the inconsistent player people thought I was, that I could deliver when it mattered. My best mate flew over for his birthday and sat in the stands watching all of it unfold. That made it even sweeter.

My connection to the Oval goes back even further than my playing days. In my academy years under Rod Marsh, Nathan Hauritz and I worked at Adelaide Oval.

We’d pick divots on Monday mornings after the footy, clean gutters during hailstorms “for resilience,” and spend far too much time pretending to sweep the old scoreboard just so we could sneak in a nap.

We weren’t fooling anyone, Ritz got busted every time, and the moment I heard his name being called out, I’d be up a level with my broom trying to look busy. Those days were challenging, funny, and formative.

And then there are the Australia Day one-day internationals, the packed hills, the carnival atmosphere, the way every player who ever walked out there has said, “Imagine watching a game from those tents.” The New Year’s Eve BBL games only proved what everyone already knew, Adelaide Oval is built perfectly for cricket.

I love the Gabba. I love the WACA. Those fast, bouncy pitches suit everything I stood for as a bowler. But if you’re talking the complete package, cricket, atmosphere, aesthetics, history, people, city, and heartbeat, Adelaide Oval ticks every box.

Some venues host matches. Adelaide Oval gives you memories.