Sir Ian Terrence Botham

is a headline that might have come as a mild surprise in years past, to say the least. Then again, it seems to be a tradition in Britain that perennial bad boys eventually become part of the establishment. Botham's past acquaintance Sir Mick Jagger, once thought to be responsible for the destruction of Western Civilisation, is a prime example. Still, given that Botham famously had a hate-hate relationship with MCC members, was suspended for several tests after admitting smoking marijuana, and called the selectors 'a bunch of gin-swilling old doderers' you could have obtained decent odds against any knighthood twenty years ago. By then as well as the above-mentioned japes Botham had built up a formidable reputation as a drinker himself, as well as a womaniser and a bit of a brawler too - he'd had fights with the likes of (believe it or not) Heny Blofeld (outcome inconclusive), Ian Chappell (Botham victory) and Peter Willey (Botham defeat). On the other side of the ledger, Botham never went on any squalid rebel tour of South Africa nor is there any evidence he so much as contemplated it. His lifelong friendship with Viv Richards attests to his view of those that did.

Badboy antics aside, there was always something vaguely old fashioned about Botham. His view of patriotism was not of the present age. Perhaps it was even a little naive. One of the reasons for his failure as a captain was that he was utterly uninterested in motivating others, because he felt that playing for one's country should always be sufficient. During the 1992 World Cup in Australia, a male comedian dressed as the Queen for an official dinner, provoking stony silence amongst the English team in general but Botham (with Graham Gooch) went one step further and walked out. We will return to that tournament presently.

Throughout his public life, Botham has always assumed (and often loudly declared) his way not only to be the right way, but the only way, and the blindingly obvious way. As a player that made him controversial, but as a commentator curiously that made him sound like an old whinger - the Fred Trueman 'weren't like this in my day' school of retirement-home bores. So perhaps Beefy never really changed himself, he only changed roles and hence the way that we look at him. His boozing has continued, but commentators don't get in trouble for that in the way that players do, and these days he markets his own wine, so might be expected to be spouting in vino veritas.

How good a player Botham really was has been another source of controversy over the years, if not quite to the same extent as his off-field antics. The stats tell us something: he was the fastest player to reach 100 wickets and 1000 runs, the fastest to 200 wickets and 2000 runs, and the only one in history to reach 300 wickets and 3000 runs. He was part of an era of great allrounders, but if it is tolerably clear that Hadlee and Imran were better bowlers, and Kapil roughly comparative, Botham's 14 test hundreds equals Imran and Kapil combined, and is 12 more than Hadlee managed. He was the world record holder for the most wickets at his retirement, and is still easily number one for England.

It is often held against him that he never scored a ton against the best side of his era, the West Indies. That is not the full story, however: in 1980/81 he had the disasters of his captaincy and the death of Ken Barrington to deal with; in 1984 he batted very well, but was handicapped (i) by the expectation of more '81 miracles, and (ii) by batting down the order, where building an innings was more or less out of the question. And in 1986 the entire side fell apart in the second 'blackwash'. By way of comparison, Allan Lamb scored 3 tons in 1984 but only very slightly more runs on aggregate for the series; in 1986 Lamb failed as comprehensively as the rest, physical survival being the sole concern of every English batsman.

Botham's career will, of course, be defined by his favourite opponents, the Australians. His 1981 efforts did not come against the best Australian side (or even the best potentially available to them then - Greg Chappell refused to tour), but it established a hold that never really shook. His last substantial test contributions came in 1986/7, when England managed an improbable series victory. Thereafter he hardly featured in the longer game, and even by that stage it had been remarked that no bowler in history had been so successful with so many bad balls. Jump forward to 1992. Now firmly middle-aged in appearance, and late to the tour because he had been appearing in Jack in the Beanstalk, Botham was busy grumbling about Gooch's physical training regime for the World Cup. But the aforementioned Australian comedian should have been better briefed: a Botham riled was many things, but always bad news for Australia. England met the old enemy before a full house at the SCG, under lights and with Australia desperately needing a win. They progressed smoothly enough until, with nothing above military medium pace and nothing moving particularly wildly, Botham snared four wickets in seven balls for no runs, including Australia's captain and key batsman Allan Border. He then marched out to open the batting and made the result secure by smashing a dominant half century. I watched the highlights again recently and one Australian commentator tried to kid himself towards the end that "Australia are still in this, just a few quick wickets could turn it around". Fool - didn't he realise Botham was only playing for one side that night.

Alan Border would not have made that mistake. Simon Hughes, in A Lot of Hard Yakka, remembered a game just over a year later between Durham (with whom Botham was seeing out his first class days, having retired from international duties) and the touring Australians. Hughes was sitting within earshot of the Australian dressing room whilst Botham was trundling in seemingly innocuously off a short run. All of the heavyweights - Border, Boon and the like - were watching intently and trying to speculate what Botham might do. There was, says Hughes, distinct reverence in all their voices.

For all that he did to them over the years, there might be a reason for the Australians to give thanks to Sir Beefy. It has been said that Allan Border's humiliation, as a promising junior member of the side, in 1981 instilled two things in the 'little Aussie battler' aside from mere Botham-worship: first, that a test match may be won from any position; and secondly, that mental strength was the key to international success. Such was the ethos which Border required of his team when thrown the captaincy a few years later. The weak would not survive. Dean Jones was given an ultimatum on the subcontinent; he responded with a double century that left him wretching, dehydrated and collapsing. And one 20 year old New South Welshman was picked out by Border around the same time as having the requisite mental attributes: Stephen Rodger Waugh. Waugh received his orders, and learned from them.

Er, thanks a lot, Guy the Gorilla. And thanks for the memories. Keep up the commentary whinging, too.