The Great Irony of Graham Dilley

So deeply saddened by the passing of Graham Dilley. In his era all English cricketers either sported dodgy car-salesmen moustaches or looked like they'd wandered straight out of the bar to have a bash at going in at Number 4. Or else they seemed so old that only direct injections of Deep Heat stopped them standing immobile at Third Man indefinitely. But Dilley strode around the pitch like some blond minor deity.

The irony is that his career is defined by a match early on. And that he is remembered best for a match in which he was only the third most important contributor. He made 56 in that wonderful mad partnership with Ian Botham that stopped the '81 Headingley Ashes Test being a rout. And he was the bloke bowling from the other end while Bob Willis, every arthritic joint replaced with titanium, creaked in to bowl the Aussies out. And I remember how the joyous freedom of his batting in that Test - his lesser skill - contrasted with the odd, deliberate, almost ponderous way he bowled.

And given the choice - cricket being the team game that it is - of your most notable performance being taking 10 wickets in some forgotten win over Bangladesh on a rain-soaked Old Trafford - or of being the third most remembered player the most exciting cricket match ever played - then even when that Test is so often remembered by another player's name - I know which I'd choose. That wild, happy afternoon in Leeds, every time.

God bless you, Graham. May you now have a pair of boots that you will never wear out.