You could be forgiven for thinking that it’s 2009. It’s the start of an Ashes summer, and in the rear-view mirror, England have an Ashes whitewash, an embarrassing World Cup campaign, and an underwhelming Caribbean tour. Oh, and something about Kevin Pietersen. Peter Moores has again been and gone as coach – a few new players unearthed, a nagging sense of inadequacy maintained. It remains to be seen whether Moores’ foundations can be built upon, if Paul Farbrace is the new Andy Flower, if Gary Ballance is to be the new Ravi Bopara, or if Alastair Cook is the old – young – Alastair Cook.

With “History Repeating” by The Propellerheads featuring Shirley Bassey on a loop for the last eighteen months, it should have come as no surprise that the Kevin Pietersen saga should again rear its boring head. Just when you thought that autobiography had burnt every bridge and forever dirtied the slate, just when both sides of the argument couldn’t be any more entrenched, Colin Graves, incoming ECB Chairman, waded in. (Incidentally, that incoming: a run-up as long as Michael Holding’s, if not quite so whispering.)

If KP’s book had offered an extreme piece of evidence to the anti camp, Graves’ apparent olive branch gave KP the chance to do the same for the pro camp. And 355 not out did just that. He always did have a sense of timing.

Just as KP was running out of batting partners at The Oval, Andrew Strauss, in his first media engagement as the new Director of Cricket, England, was citing “trust issues” as the reason for KP running out of batting partners in the ECB. Strauss sounded every bit the politician, repeating “clarity” in the hope that the word itself would be self-fulfilling, but his attempt at bringing clarity was undermined by Graves’ hospital pass. Effectively, Strauss was being asked to draw a line under the situation without a pen and a ruler.

All of which resulted in the unanimous view that KP had won the PR War – something hard to believe given that Piers Morgan has been at the heart of it. Like with Peter Moores finding out about his sacking through the media, it was hard not to feel sympathy with KP’s “fury at England deceit.” That’s not to say he should have walked back into the team. Ironically, the middle-order is, along with Jimmy Anderson, one of two aspects of the England team that is functioning, and for all that 355 not out is some statement, it was one innings. In Division 2 of the County Championship. Against Leicestershire. But worth having in reserve, surely. And definitely worth a place in the team for both the short formats – captain, even? At least wait to see what Moores’ replacement thinks.

But no. Graves had led him up the garden path. If the unnecessary resurrection of the argument revealed anything it was that it has never been about ability. And fair enough, really. Strauss is in as good a position as any to know what it takes to make a winning team. Equally, he had a front row seat to see how KP became ostracised from that team. When you think about KP’s retirement from ODI’s, his seeming preference for the IPL, the KPGenius twitter account, “textgate”, the book, it’s easy to understand that trust is an issue for all (still) involved.

I said earlier that KP won the PR war, but perhaps it was more of a battle. The latest in a seemingly never-ending line. Perhaps it was a battle KP didn’t need to fight, because the ECB made a habit of treading on their stumps. The War was over a return to international cricket, a war KP only started fighting once Colin Graves opened his mouth.

It didn’t have to be that way. KP didn’t have to write his book. He could have played county cricket last summer. He could have recognised the need to accept some of the blame. Bridges didn’t have to be burnt. He could, and I realise this is a stretch, have accepted #strausslogic and taken the advisory role. I might be a little harsh, but he could have chosen his words better, too, after scoring 326 not out and before heading off to meet with Strauss: “What more can I do? I’m ready to play for England.” And: “I’m dedicated to getting back my England place. I want my England place and I think I deserve my England place.” My England place. Not an England place. And deserve?

I’m sure KP subscribes to the theory of there being no such thing as bad publicity, and now I’m convinced the ECB feel the same way. Perhaps all this KP rehash is an attempt at distraction. From their own incompetence. From dwindling participation, expensive ticketing, and the Sky paywall. From the fact England are a pretty ordinary side. (In Tests, doing about as well as can be expected.)

Lost, however, in the all the KP fog, is that Strauss’ brief is to build sustainable success, to bring an end to the boom and bust of the last decade – to take the needle off the Propellers record. Good luck to him. I have every respect for him, but it won’t be easy. Nor was the KP decision, by the way, in that he could have taken the populist route.

One area I would urge Strauss to look into – and I don’t know how he might go about this – is central contracts. Was it a contractual, legal thing that prevented KP from just being dropped? How is it that, rather than play for their counties, England players – Stuart Broad in the West Indies, for example – are allowed to search for form and fitness in Test matches? Not only does it weaken the side and demean the fixture, it also means England go into a red hot summer not knowing how Adam Lyth, Mark Wood and Adil Rashid might fare.

Most cricket fans, with good reason, will have a less than optimistic feeling as to how England might fare this summer. For what it’s worth, I suspect Farbrace will keep the job warm for Jason Gillespie to take after the Ashes. I also suspect Alastair Cook is doing the same with the captaincy for Joe Root. Who knows if a Root-Gillespie alliance would turn out to be another Vaughan-Fletcher or Strauss-Flower. I can’t see a pace quartet emerging as good as Vaughan enjoyed in 2005, or another Graeme Swann turning up. Or another Jimmy Anderson, for that matter. At least it won’t be 2009, by then. It could instead be 1997 all over again. Progress.

Waking up on Saturday, I knew plenty of questions would be answered. Would I get any runs? Would Histon beat March? How would Day 2 in Barbados pan out? Would Derby secure a place in the play-offs? Would Chelsea seal the title? Would Floyd Mayweather or Manny Pacquiao win the Fight of the Century? Could I stay awake long enough to find out?

(Answers: 17, yes, dramatically, no, yes, Floyd Mayweather, yes)

I did stay awake, and there were further questions along the way. Would Stuart Bingham or Judd Trump prevail in the deciding frame of the second snooker semi-final? And, most unforeseen, would the LA Clippers or the San Antonio Spurs win the deciding first-round play-off game? Along with England’s dramatic collapse to 39-5, these two contests, in their contrasting ways, were glorious examples of how sport can rival any other part of life for pure drama. It’s a kind of timeless drama, cutting away all the contemporary commercial ball-baggery to the very essence of competition.

By contrast, the boxing, bar the fourth round, was never competitive or dramatic, was never timeless. In fact, it was very much an event for our times. Perhaps boxing, more than any other sport, often is. It certainly held up a mirror to elite level football. Paying over the top for an overhyped event at an inconvenient time should sound familiar to Arsenal fans who, at the time of writing, are at the KC Stadium in Hull.

The nature of Mayweather’s comprehensive win also reflected the tedious debate over whether Chelsea are boring. Chelsea aren’t boring. The league is boring. The competition is boring. Likewise, Mayweather isn’t boring. He’s pragmatic and defensive, but there is skill and art in that, just as in any team containing Cesc Fabregas and Edin Hazard. It’s not Jose Mourinho’s fault that his rivals would probably benefit from any of his back six – Thibaut Courtois, Branislav Ivanovic, Cesar Azpilicueta, John Terry, Gary Cahill and Nemanja Matic. Likewise, it’s not Mayweather’s fault if he has an advantage in height and reach – not to mention breathtaking skill in the art of evasion. Sure, Chelsea, like all Mourinho teams, can clinch and cover-up when needed, but that’s the point – sport is about winning, and winning sometimes requires it. Why not win without getting hit in the face too often? Attack isn’t always the best form of defence.

Pragmatism and defence in the ring, and on the pitch, is all part of the game, but Mayweather’s defence went up years before this fight. Mayweather might not have won five years ago. Pacquiao in his prime – a locust storm of attacking punches, as fast as he was relentless – would have given Mayweather a game. Pacquiao wanted it, the fans wanted it. Mayweather didn’t. Unlike Chelsea, who could only beat what was in front of them, Mayweather, while still making shed-loads of money and maintaining his unbeaten record, could choose when to put Pacquiao in front of him. It’s like England waiting to play Australia until Shane Warne had retired. It’s just not cricket. But it is boxing.

For all that I had a great night on Saturday, and the fight was quite intriguing, I can’t help feeling cheated. Five years ago, it might have had a chance of living up to the hype. Mayweather is undoubtedly an excellent boxer – an unbeaten record attests to that – but he’ll never be loved. Of course, much of that is down to wife-beating and money-loving, is down to a defensive style, but it’s hard to love a man who claims of being TBE (The Best Ever) when he has never been involved in any great fights. This so-called Fight of the Century certainly wasn’t a great fight – incomparable to Ali-Foreman or even Benn-Eubank – but it could have been. It should have been. Instead, Pacquiao, looking old and a weight division light, couldn’t get near Mayweather. Out of the ring, it was ever thus. Inside, we have been deprived of ever knowing how Mayweather’s undoubted skill would have dealt with prime Pacquiao. Boxing, like much of elite level sport, is obscenely rich, but as a competition it has never been poorer.