What I remember most about that night - aside from turbo charged footy from immortal players like Craig Turley, Karl Langdon and Guy McKenna - was using the urinal in the old grandstand.

It was a metal trough about twenty feet long with a tiled step, almost pitch black because the overhead light was busted, with scores of blokes half cut on full strength beer taking their turn like they were scaling a WW1 trench to get into No Man's Land.

When my turn came I took it quick and got the hell out of there, taking my plastic seat again in the open air section where swarms of moths applauded the light towers.

That sums up the WACA to me - glory on the field and kind of shabby all around.

There are so many sporting highlights from the WACA's time in the relentless WA sun, and as we say goodbye with the final Ashes test there, I'll leave it to others to list them.

I want to pay tribute to WACA itself - the grounds, the grandstands, and above all the scruffiness.

Because, let's face it, the WACA never really peaked at a bright shining apogee. It's always been a bit faded. But I think that's why we love it.

Sure, they put up those immense concrete light towers in the frenzy of government spending that was kindled by the America's Cup in Fremantle, and lovely new grandstands and pristine seats and bars were added over the years.

But the WACA always seemed to be a work in progress, like a Midland Brick bungalow in a 1970s suburb like Spearwood or Greenwood where the owner was always adding an extension or digging up the reticulation.

The WACA represents a bygone era of Perth that was far more casual, certainly less wealthy, and more concerned with simply having a good time with what was available than "putting on the dog".

It's from a Perth where the only outdoor paint colour you could get was Mission Brown from WA Salvage, when BMWs were driven by yuppies not tradies, and asking for an espresso was met with "why, are you in a hurry?"

The WACA is all about uncomfortable plastic chairs (even in the Members section), toilets that look as if they've been craned in from a local park, and a lack of shade so severe the only sensible protection for a ginger like me is a beekeeper's outfit.

It's sitting in the sun on the hill and standing between overs to let the sweat cool, swatting away flies and listening to Grandstand on a battered radio an old punter brought along because you can barely see what's going on.

Yet for all its faults, the WACA is our ground. It's home. Good enough. On with the game.

I don't mourn its passing as a primary sports ground for Perth. Perth Stadium is where the action will be, and that's a good thing.

The clock ticks forward, and the new stadium's facilities look simply astonishing, with commanding views from every seat, top flight facilities and everything state of the art.

But beautiful as it is, purpose built as it is, the problem with modern places like the new Perth Stadium is that it's not a blank canvas like the WACA, which evolved over the years and grew a character and history of its own as people used it.

The new facilities for Perth are made to measure, with sharply defined surfaces, experiences and infrastructure that force the public to interact with them much the same as we do in a museum - very carefully.

Of course, the Stadium is brand spanking new, and the public has not had any time to really interact with it and take it into their hearts.

That will surely happen. New heroes and famous victories will emerge. New memories and experiences will pass into legend.

And in time, as we pass the baton from the WACA to Perth Stadium, I hope it will deliver something its designers cannot include - the resentment of the public.

It is very human to be unable to love something perfect. It's why Japanese art values imperfection, even as it seeks divinity. Our flaws make us human, and to that measure, it's why the WACA has such character.

And sure as we complain about the patchy wi-fi signal on a flight to London, Perth Stadium's faults will be found, and perhaps that will allow us to really love it like we do the WACA.

Till then, anyone who endured a match at the old ground will sound like one of the Four Yorkshireman when they go to Perth Stadium, saying "back in my day we had full strength beer that you had to fight the barman for, not this mid-strength Alby stuff," and "we never used to have meat pies, we had to chew on Dennis Lillee's discarded sweat bands".

I just hope the urinals are up scratch.