Long before the dawn of the explosive Twenty20 revolution, no one struck the cricket ball with greater ferocity as Robin Smith. Built with a prizefighter's frame but possessing the quick feet inherited from his mother, a ballet dancer, he produced shots – especially his trademark square cut – with such immense force they could dent in perimeter fencing and deflated the morale of opponents.
The cricketer's death comes after a lengthy battle with poor health, was a man of profound contradictions. To the public eye, he was the very image of fearless, attacking batsmanship, famed for thrilling battles with the world's fastest bowlers. But behind this mask of confidence existed a man constantly questioning his own worth, a struggle he kept hidden during his playing days but which later led to problems of depression and addiction.
His courage facing quick bowlers was unquestionably genuine. But the driving force, involved a combination of pure grit and a self-confessed addiction to adrenaline. Many felt he wired differently, seeking out the punishing challenge of confronting express bowling, which calls for lightning reflexes and a willingness to suffer physical punishment.
This was perfectly illustrated during his legendary innings of 148 not out representing his country facing the Caribbean pace attack at the Home of Cricket in 1991. On a tricky surface, as a pair of legendary pacemen, he did not merely endure but counter-attacked with gusto, his eyes reportedly sparkling the physical duel of intimidation and strokeplay. He later described the feeling was one of “buzzing”.
Featuring mostly at number five or six, Smith represented England over 62 Test matches plus 71 limited-overs games during an eight-year international span. He amassed more than four thousand runs in Tests with a mean of 43-plus, featuring nine centuries. In ODI cricket, he gathered almost two and a half thousand runs with an average close to 40.
Perhaps his most ferocious knock occurred in 1993 against Australia versus the old enemy, hammering 167 ruthless runs. The display was so impressive that even the then commendations from the country's leader. Sadly, a recurring theme, his team ended up losing the match.
Dubbed ‘the Judge’ because of a youthful haircut resembling a judicial wig, his batting average in Tests was notably impressive, particularly given he played in a losing era. Many believe he was discarded too hastily by selectors post a fractious series of South Africa in the winter of 95/96.
In his own words, he felt like two distinct characters: ‘the Judge’, the ruthless on-field warrior who loved a fight, and Robin Smith, a sensitive, emotional man. The two identities fought for dominance.
An unshakeable sense of loyalty sometimes caused him problems. One well-known episode he intervened to protect teammate Malcolm Marshall against racial taunts in a hotel bar. After words failed, he floored the primary abuser, an act which fractured his hand and cost him a lengthy spell on the sidelines.
Adapting to a world outside the dressing room was immensely challenging. The adrenaline rush was substituted for the ordinary pressures of business. Ventures into a travel company ultimately faltered. Compounded by marital difficulties and serious money troubles, he spiralled into alcohol dependency and severe depression.
A move to Australia alongside his children offered a fresh start but couldn't resolve his personal demons. In a moment of deep crisis, he considered ending his life, and was only saved from the brink through the care of his child and a friend.
His family includes his companion, Karin, his two children, and brother Chris.
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Jack Sanchez
Jack Sanchez
Jack Sanchez
Jack Sanchez
Jack Sanchez
Jack Sanchez