Alec Stewart: `the cleanshaven look of the old days of English cricket'

 DURING THE rain delay on the Sunday of the Oval Test, highlights of the 1968 Ashes tour were shown. There were no over-animated appeals. A wicket was greeted with a part on the back from the fielders, a shake of the hand. There was no sun-block, no sunglasses, no advertising hoardings and everything was so typically English. Cricket might be termed an eccentric game, but here it was being taken seriously – and yet nothing was overdone.

Afterwards, I searched for a video-tape I knew contained some highlights from the last tour of New Zealand. Third Test, Wellington; the camera shooting up and showing the lush green hills as Lamb's voluptuous six off Su'a topped the sightscreen, part of a chanceless, merciless innings from better England days. Then New Zealand came out to bat, the match already drawn.

Standing in the field was an upright man with a battered-looking cap, fair hair, and the cleanshaven look of the old days of English cricket. This was Alec Stewart. A grin occasionally played on his lips, a conservative strip of white zinc across the bottom one. Botham struck: Wright caught behind for none. Congratulations all round. High fives, big hugs, and then a simple, warm and vigorous handshake from Stewart.

I first became wrapped in cricket during the last series against West Indies. Before the Oval Test, I heard that someone from Surrey called Stewart, who was a batsman- keeper, was being called in to bolster the batting, at the expense of Jack Russell. This all-out gamble from England was inspiring stuff, as was my first sight of Stewart's batting. His strokes had a crispness and a dynamic flair that hailed back to those earlier days.

 Gooch bats powerfully, Atherton artistically, Smith spiritedly. But none of them, no man in the world, has appeared as a cleaner timer and placer of the ball than Stewart. His footwork is sure, his wrists seem to contain ball-bearings, and although he never seems to swing heavily, it is certain that but for the boundary the ball would have gone much further.

He seldom seems to change his approach. When he does, he seems a jaded batsman. When he uses his feet and punishes a hitherto dominant attack, he electrifies the crowd and wins their hearts. An example: England were tied down by Warne and May at Edgbaston. Warne put in a couple of poor overs, and Stewart cracked two balls in succession over midwicket, the first a six and the second not far off. His 76 at the Oval was similar. Warne was hit out of the attack, and the quicks were taught a few lessons before Stewart's unlucky demise.

It is for the sake of this scientific yet dazzling batting that many people want him to concentrate on batting rather than keeping. After the West Indians left, this brisk strokeplayer was promoted to No. 3 against Sri Lanka, with Russell back, and he hit a century. I was mesmerised. Here, I felt, was a man who would win matches for England again and again.

In New Zealand, again with Russell behind the timbers, he did it twice: innings of such sure quality, yet with such edge-of-the-seat bravado that no member of the crowd could forget it. After the World Cup, where he impressed once more both in front of and behind the stumps, he spent two days in the field at Edgbaston watching Miandad and Salim Malik put his side's bowlers to the sword. Then he went out with Gooch and proceeded to clip, crack and scythe the attack around to the tune of 190.

Almost every time he has given a telling performance in front of the stumps, he has not been behind them. In the recent Tests in which he has kept wicket, his best batting has been when England have batted first or in a follow-on innings when he has rested after a short first knock. The evidence is there – and yet there is evidence the other way.

It is hard to fault Stewart's keeping. When Malcolm was giving the Aussies food for thought in a belated return at the Oval, Stewart was acrobatic and never let a ball through. As he stands behind the stumps awaiting the moment to crouch, you see the same bolt-upright posture – until he crouches – that manifests itself in his batting. Hands behind back, head always up, a smile at some point, but still the faded blue cap, the cleanshaven face and the images of a bygone era.

We all have a hero in someone. Frank Bruno's nice-bloke image and fearsome punches make him a family favourite. The zip of Rory Underwood on the wing wins him fans. Paul Gascoigne has done things that do not cover him in glory, but listen to the English crowds get behind him. For me, Stewart's clean, straight, pure and crisp image anywhere, on or off a cricket field, makes him my hero.

© Wisden CricInfo Ltd