Sideline Cut/Keith DugganIt was a slick and almost underground trial that has left the reputation of Shane Warne in ruins. Somehow the year ban that may bring to an end his international career was obfuscated by the melodramatic tantrums in the Old Trafford dressing-room and Mike Tyson and the international rugby weekend.

The fact is Warne is the latest celebrity name on the list of "drug cheats", a commonly used catch-all phrase that adds a villainous, seedy edge to the actual disgrace and consequences of failing blood tests. The Australian Cricket Board (ACB) dealt with the situation of their one true superstar in remarkably brisk fashion.

Little over a month has passed from the revelation that Warne had tested positive for two banned substances to the slapping of a 12-month ban on him last weekend. Their dismissal of his protests during last week's hearing were cold and unambiguous, the assertion that his claims of innocence were "not entirely truthful" almost as damaging as the punishment they handed out.

Warne's by now famous excuse - that he unwittingly took a dieting pill that contained the offending chemicals - is so lame and comical that you are inclined to believe it. Dieting is a kind of sissyish way for Warne, brash and blond and loaded with testosterone, to bow out from the game.

On the face of it, the ACB are to be lauded for dealing so swiftly and clinically with a potentially ruinous situation that arose virtually on the eve of the World Cup. It did not matter that Warne, now in the autumn of a staggeringly successful and controversial sporting career, remains a god to ordinary Australians and is cricket's number one draw. Under the rules, he cheated and, possibly aided by the heavy hints from Dick Pound of the World Anti Doping Association, he was made an example of.

Already, he is missing what was to be his last World Cup, his career hangs in the balance and it is estimated this episode will cost him dearly in lost endorsements. His decision not to appeal the verdict was probably wise, given the venom of the published ACB statement.

But does all this mean that Warne deserves to be thrown into the same cesspool with the other celebrity athletic offenders who have been branded as cheats and liars and of being guilty of destroying the sport they practised? Is Warne's legacy to be that he tarnished the very game of which he was declared a prodigy 10 years ago this summer?

There is something gnawing about Warne's closing statement in which he claims to be a victim of the hysteria that follows the campaign to rid global sports from the substances epidemic that has all but crippled cycling, swimming, track and field athletics and is creeping into all mainstream games.

Warne definitely shares an element of the guilt in this sorry chapter of his life, but that may be confined to his thoughtlessness and vanity. Image was always central to the Warne story, from his original and glorious announcement at Old Trafford in 1993. White-blond and loud and brash and funny, confident and outdoorsy and refreshing, he was Australia-made man.

It was well known Warne was extremely proud of his new svelte look that saw him drop by two waist sizes from 36 to 32. So dramatic was his reshaping that his bowling coach, Terry Jennings, feared it would affect his game and demanded to know how anyone could hope to bowl without the benefit of an ass.

The lean, new look was the result of a radical change in lifestyle. One of the reasons Warne was so loved, besides his genius with a cricket ball, was for his less than perfect habits. He delighted in the indulgence of his every culinary indulgences, which invariably included beer and chips in some shape or form. It was part of Warne's carefree philosophy of having his cake and eating it. Life was good. Amid the austere and often depressing roll call of grave and detached modern sports stars, Warne was a ray of hope. He loved his game and spread around the joy.

Growing up where I did in Donegal, you didn't have the opportunity to play cricket everyday. It was an abstract entity, an opportunity for former colonies to reign supreme in the ultimate sport of the Empire. There was always a vague satisfaction to be had in seeing David Gower walking crestfallen towards the pavilion, a fleeting enjoyment to be gained from the news headlines warning of another humiliation for England. But in general, cricket meant little, as was, and remains, the case for a lot of Irish people. As Shaw replied, when asked what he thought of the Test, "What are they testing?"

But Shane Warne managed to transcend cricket. He had the quality that separates the unforgettable heroes of sport from the merely great players: he had the ability to transfix people. It was as if, with his perma-tan and smathered sun cream and jewellery, he was coloured in a higher resolution. He was must-watch material.

Virtually all the world's other leading players, from Brian Lara to Steve Waugh, have stepped up to the bat in defence of Warne this week. Sure, he was thoughtless and foolish and his track record is less than flawed, given the revelations he was involved in a Sri Lankan betting scandal in 1994. Whether Warne took the diuretics in an attempt to accelerate the healing to the shoulder injury he acquired in mid-December and which threatened his participation in the World Cup remains a matter of conjecture.

But nobody believes Warne took substances to try to enhance his game. At the same time, the case against the Australian is, from a legal perspective, watertight.

It is uncertain if Warne will bowl in anger at international level again and even if he does, it is likely that his powers will have been diminished. True, he sinned, but there is something unsatisfactory with this definitive turn in his career.

Maybe it is naïve to suggest that some sort of spirit of the law could apply when it comes to the arena of international drugs testing. But equally there does seem to have been echoes of Salem in the unequivocal and ruthless sentencing of the former golden boy.

When Don Bradman, as taciturn and measured a figure as Warne is affectionate and messy, was bowled out at what was his last Test innings, he memorably remarked, "It is hard to bat with tears in your eyes."

Warne, voted with Bradman one of the top five cricketers of the century by Wisden, leaves the game with dismal explanations about his mother's diet pills as his possible epitaph. Maybe he only has himself to blame. But it is tough to see him all out on this undignified note.