My Hundred: from 70 to 61

 70: David Lawrence

The term ‘whole-hearted cricketer’ could have been invented specifically for David Lawrence. Gloucester born and bred, his pace got him noticed in the late Eighties when England were constantly marmalised by the West Indies. Like Devon Malcolm he wasn’t always the most accurate but he made his debut in a one-off Test against Sri Lanka in ’88. I saw him play exactly three years later against the same opponents at Lord’s but his next Test v NZ in Wellington that winter ended in agony when he fractured a kneecap, effectively ending a promising and popular career. 

69: Jack Russell

RC ‘Jack’ Russell was one of England’s greatest eccentrics. He was also probably the best wicketkeeper since Alan Knott and Bob Taylor but was restricted to only 54 Tests in the ‘80s and ‘90s by Alec Stewart’s superior batting. A Gloucestershire stalwart for 24 seasons, he accumulated around 1,900 dismissals and ground out plenty of vital lower-order runs. An accomplished artist, he is best remembered by me for his battered white sun-hat and 'non-standard' black gloves which somehow survived his whole career. 

68: Courtney Walsh

Another veteran of Gloucestershire, the lanky Jamaican not only became the first bowler to reach 500 Test wickets but he also had the fitness required to take more than 1,800 in all first-class cricket. I saw him play against Essex in 1984 before his first Test call-up then again in his final Lord’s appearance in 2000, earning a standing ovation as he strode out with bat in hand. He won more applause when this bunniest of rabbits actually scored a single! Always a good sport, Walsh also memorably collapsed with laughter at the MCG when facing the blue-haired Aussie spinner Colin Miller! 

67: Rahul Dravid

In the modern era, Rahul Dravid was an anachronism. ‘The Wall’ rarely whacked it around nor had crowds on their feet screaming his name, yet he was as much part of India’s golden period as Tendulkar, Dhoni or Kohli. Nobody in Test match history has faced more deliveries nor spent more time at the crease and only three have made more runs. I finally managed to see him in tandem with Sachin, albeit briefly, in a friendly at Taunton nine years ago, when he scored 17 and faced 20-odd ‘dots.  A master craftsman of innings building, he knew when to defend and when to strike: one of the last of a dying breed. 

66: Mark Ramprakash

Like Graeme Hick, ‘Ramps’ never quite succeeded in consistently converting prolific county form into stellar performances for England. His Test average was a mediocre 27, barely half of his career first-class number. After England eventually gave up on him in 2002, ironically he became peerless in the county game. Having swapped Middlesex for Surrey, in 2006 he averaged over 100 in the Championship and went on to break the barrier of 100 first-class centuries, probably the last man to achieve the feat. A delight to watch when in form, both with the bat and fielding at cover. 

65: Glenn Turner

The New Zealander was not the prettiest strokemaker but during the Seventies was consistently one of the finest opening batsman in the county game. Playing for one of the weaker Test nations at the time, he nonetheless averaged nearly 45, saving his best for the two most successful opponents, Australia and the West Indies. I used to admire him making runs for Worcestershire, for whom he compiled many of his 103 first-class and 14 limited-overs centuries. 

64: Gladstone Small

I could recite a load of stats to justify the Bajan’s presence in my list. There are his plentiful wickets for Warwickshire and match-winning one-day spells to consider. In particular he was Man of the Match at the Boxing Day Ashes Test in 1986. However, he’s better remembered for his almost cartoonish appearance. All collar and no neck, his bowling run-up recalled a clockwork toy wound up to the max but he became a top-class bowler who also seemed to have fun, which I always liked. 

63: Barry Richards

Like Glenn Turner, the South African was a blonde opening bat who was very difficult to get out and scored heavily in the 1970s when my love of cricket took flight. Robbed of surefire global stardom by his country’s pariah status (he managed only four Tests, at an average of 72 before the anti-apartheid ban), his stage was for me the county game. At Hampshire he formed one of the most jaw-dropping of county opening partnerships with Gordon Greenidge and was often even more exciting to watch than the West Indian. A giant of his era, yet not quite my favourite Richards! 

62: Chris Woakes

More than a decade ago, I associated the name of Chris Woakes with a Warwickshire Fantasy Cricket points machine. Ostensibly a metronomic fast-medium seamer, he proved he could also score runs, and in 2011 topped his county’s first-class averages with both bat and ball. I couldn’t understand why he wasn’t picked for England, but his chance duly came. Just last week, the newly-bearded Woakes claimed a five-for in England’s defeat of Pakistan, but it was Stuart Broad who dominated the headlines. That seems to be Woakes’ fate: the cruelly underrated ultimate support act. 

61: Tim Murtagh

Like Woakes, Murtagh has been a long-standing feature near the top of County Championship bowling averages. He has been swinging the ball through the defences of all the best batsmen for two decades, notably for Middlesex, but it was only in his thirties that he won the chance to represent Ireland in ODIs then three Tests. It was June 2005 when I first became aware of him, watching him take 6-24 in an after-work clash at Lord’s and just this week, at the age of 39, he was bowling Middlesex to another triumph against Surrey, this time in the Bob Willis Trophy. Tim represents everything I love about county cricket.

My Favourite Bowlers of all time

As with music, football clubs or TV programmes, favouritism makes no claim to equate with sheer quality, no matter how passionately the advocate makes his or her case. My personal favourite cricketers cover a wide range from undisputed giants of the game to aficionados of specific counties and/or those with lengthy memories. The list of bowlers is a case in point.

As a child, I loved to watch bowlers’ actions face-on, a standard perspective in the days when the Beeb could only afford cameras at one end. Many of my most memorable pacemen in particular date from that period when I’d channel my studies of the people I’d watched on TV into personations in the back garden. England’s John Snow had a distinctive delivery action but my first fave was someone whose notable quirk was the way during his run-up he held both arms low.

Sarfraz Nawaz was a staple of Northamptonshire’s attack in the Seventies, winning many caps for Pakistan along the way. Although taller than most, it was his moustache which also made him stand out. More recently he has been credited with inventing reverse swing, which has become an essential part of a fast bowler’s armoury.

Talking of cricketing moustaches, as much part of the mid-Seventies as flares and ‘O’ level revision, Dennis Lillee’s facial fuzz was even more recognisable, and remains his trademark to this day. His bristling, bustling demeanour and devastating pace combined to hammer thorns in the side of England on many occasions, from 1972 to the early Eighties, when his moustache was complemented by a coloured headband. He was no shrinking violet, often controversial for the sake of it, but always watchable. Even in his slower dotage, his skill and accuracy knew no bounds. Had it not been for a few brilliant Botham performances, the 1981 Ashes could well have been named after Lillee and Terry Alderman who between them garnered 81 wickets!

In mid-decade, Dennis and Jeff Thomson wreaked so much havoc against the West Indies that Clive Lloyd fathomed that his side needed to meet fire with fire. Thus the strategy of four-man Caribbean seam attacks was born. At first, this looked thrilling. The brutal bouncers, run-ups so long that they began almost from the laps of front row spectators, the prospect of athletic evasive action or humungous hooks for six  all added to the atmosphere of open hostility. The snorting Andy Roberts, smooth-as-silk Michael Holding, Colin Croft and Wayne Daniel got away with almost anything but after a year or two the novelty began to wear off rapidly. The average over rate dropped from around eighteen an hour to eleven, batsmen suffered more nasty injuries and, much as I adored Caribbean cricket, the bowling philosophy was making Test matches increasingly tedious to watch. Eventually the authorities had to introduce restrictions on the short-pitched stuff and minimum over rules to restore the balance between bat and ball before boredom and broken bones took control.

Holding in full flight was a wonder to behold, and his predecessor Keith Boyce always lively but my favoured West Indian quick was Joel Garner. Apart from the fact he played for Somerset, he didn’t rely on a relentless sprint to the wicket to breed fear in the facing batsman. Off a mere dozen loping languid strides, ‘Big Bird’ could deliver a snorting lifter, in-swinger, off-cutter or devastating yorker at will, using his six feet eight frame to the max. He was equally brilliant in one-dayers as first-class matches; nobody has got close to his career ODI economy rate of 3,09 and his 146 wickets were achieved at under 19 runs apiece. Imagine how effective he would have been in Twenty20!

I was lucky to follow cricket in an era chock full of fabulous fast bowlers. Kapil Dev, Imran Khan, Richard Hadlee, Waqar Younis, Wasim Akram, Allan Donald, Malcolm Marshall, Courtney Walsh and Curtly Ambrose were the cream of an abundant crop. In more recent times I have admired Glenn McGrath’s metronomic line and length, Dale Steyn’s rhythmic action and Shoaib Akhtar’s thunderous pace and Chaminda Vaas' impressive set of initials, but where are the English in my list?

Yes, I am impressed by Jimmy Anderson’s ability to swing it both ways but I can’t say I like him that much. A generation earlier, I was a big fan of John Lever’s left-arm swing bowling. Indeed, I saw quite a lot of him playing for Essex. In the Nineties, I was a fan of another left-arm fast-medium-pacer reliant on movement through the air for his success. This Yorkshire-born Gloucestershire pro became a one-Test wonder in 1997 but he secured my loyalty by dint of his name: Mike Smith, of course!

Top-class namesakes are rare, nor are there a plethora of fellow redheads in the sport. An exception is Glen Chapple, who bowled his fast-medium seam for Lancashire across more than two decades. I was at Lord’s for his almost singlehanded demolition of Essex in the Nat West Final of 1996, the year of his one and only England ODI appearance. Nineteen years later, I again felt deeply sorry for him when, in his forties and his hair less ginger than salt and pepper, form and fitness conspired to end his cricket career with a first-class wicket tally an agonising fifteen short of the thousand milestone.

Another long-standing stalwart of the Red Rose was David Hughes. Although primarily a left-arm spinner, he first attracted my attention with the bat. I was watching live coverage of the 1971 Gillette Cup semi-final against Gloucestershire when, in deep gloom and time running out, he proceeded to flay 24 off John Mortimore’s final over to win the match.

Of those who did manage a longer run in the England side, I quite liked Norman Cowans. His run-up was almost Holding-esque but without his fellow Jamaican’s end product. However, my favourite has to be Gladstone Small. Barbados-born, his hunched physique created an illusion of having no neck, exaggerated by the extravagant shirt collars worn at the time. His comical appearance nonetheless disguised a very useful quick bowler and, as well as a Warwickshire favourite, he was Man of the Match in England’s 1986 Boxing Day Test success in Melbourne.

Spinners have barely featured in this chapter. As with many cricket fans, it’s the pacemen who take my eye, all speed, strength and sizzle. There’s something almost primeval about a middle-stump sent cartwheeling by a 90mph nip-backer, which a gentle bat-pad catch simply cannot match. The slow bowler’s art is very different yet just as vital to an attack. Even in England teams featuring the likes of Snow, Willis or Ward, it was left-armer Derek Underwood who earned the nickname ‘Deadly’! If the Seventies and Eighties had been dominated by sneering, snarling fast bowlers, the subsequent decades were marked by the emergence of world-class spinners.

In any other era, India’s Anil Kumble would have been a global icon. And yet it was the record-breaking rivalry between Muttiah Muralitharan and Shane Warne which stole the show. Murali went on to set the amazing mark of 800 Test wickets and he was a magician of such sleight of hand that I could watch him for hours and never work out how he bowled at all, let alone pick his doosra. In contrast, Warne was a straightforward ‘leggie’ who burst onto the Test scene when leg-spinners were as rare as British Wimbledon singles champions. 

I was to have a love-hate relationship with the Aussie. I couldn’t embrace his bleach-blonde, beer-guzzling surfer-dude personality but there was something endearingly basic about that three-pace amble and roll of the wrists. Whilst an astute captain at Hampshire, he never got to lead Australia in their absolute pomp but he was undoubtedly one of the best bowlers of my lifetime. In particular, anyone who can make Mike Gatting so hilariously bamboozled as Shane Warne so memorably did in 1993 has to be an all-time favourite. And this portrait, which I once saw close up in the Lord's Long Room, captures his charisma perfectly.