Rest in peace, Shane Warne

Headingly, July 22nd 1993 and the opening day of the fourth test that summer between England and Australia. This, as it happens, was my first time attending a test match. And although we – my father, brother and I – had travelled from Scotland to Leeds hoping to see England prevail against their oldest, greatest, rival, expectations were prudently low. Australia were, after all, already 2-0 ahead in the series and there was little sign England were capable – or even believed themselves capable – of hauling themselves back into contention.

There was the excitement of seeing test cricket in person. And, secondly, and more importantly, there was the prospect of seeing Shane Warne bowl. The 22 year-old Victorian was already a sensation. In the first three tests of the series, his leg-spin had taken 22 wickets. If he was not the only difference between the sides, he was the one player obviously operating on a different plane to everyone else.