Meeting Sir Ian

They say it's a mistake to meet your childhood heroes; that reality can never compete with the image built up in an impressionable mind.

No doubt there's much truth in such a view. Just as Gandhi would surely have suffered road rage had he been forced to negotiate the M6 every morning, Audrey Hepburn would probably have had shocking breath from all those cigarettes. Perfection really isn't a human quality. So it was with some trepidation I accepted an invitation to talk to Sir Ian Botham when he visited Sri Lanka last week.

Botham was my childhood hero, you see. As a fearless, swashbuckling batsman and fast bowler capable of swinging the ball both ways, he remains the most thrilling cricketer I've seen. It wasn't just that he was at his best when his side needed him most, it was that he was impossibly entertaining. His off-field life seemed glamorous too, and as a boy I had a vision of him wrestling crocodiles and boxing kangaroos in his spare time. Just for fun.

But then he became a commentator. And though I've tried to like him, I concluded some time ago that he could speak for a thousand years and I'd never agree with a word he said. Not just that, but he has a reputation of being somewhat abrasive with journalists. The day before our chat, a colleague's attempt to interview him had ended in tears. While Sir Ian may spend much of his life in press boxes, he's never struck me as the sort of fellow to welcome an introduction and chat about the old days. He has, in many ways, remained as aloof as that distant figure on a TV screen that I grew up idolising.

And yet, despite the mixed messages, Botham remains deeply impressive. It's not the record as a cricketer - staggering though that is - but his record as a fund-raiser for charity that is most inspiring. For over the last 25 years, Botham has personally raised over £12 million for leukaemia research, and lent his support to various other good causes. If he'd never picked up a bat or ball, he'd still have earned that knighthood 10 times over.

Now it's easy to be cynical about celebrities involving themselves in charitable work. It's easy to suggest it has more to do with publicity and sycophancy than any genuine desire to help others. But Botham has gone some way beyond paying lip service to good causes. He's gone the extra mile. Literally. Not only will he be undertaking yet another charity walk next April - his 13th such venture - but it's charity that brings him to Sri Lanka. For Botham has travelled from South Africa for a couple of days to mark the fifth anniversary of the tsunami (on Boxing Day 2004) and draw attention to Laureus' Sport for Good Foundation, which has done sterling work in rebuilding shattered communities in the region.

The statistics of the tsunami are chilling. So great was the earthquake that caused the giant waves that it is said to have unleashed energy equivalent to 550 million - yes, 550 million - nuclear devices of the type that were unleashed upon Hiroshima. The planet is said to have vibrated by half an inch and around 230,000 people were killed. Thousands more were left homeless, orphaned, jobless and grieving.

Botham first returned to Sri Lanka in early 2005. "Nothing could have prepared me for the shock of what I saw," he recalls. "The level of devastation was unbelievable. There were trains in trees and train lines scattered around like twigs. Places I knew were unrecognisable. The houses had gone. Vanished. And many of the people who lived in them had vanished too.

"I heard terrible stories. Parents told me they'd had to choose whether to cling on to their sons or daughters as the water tore them away. It's hard for us to imagine that level of suffering, isn't it? It was terrible and everyone had a similar horror story.

"I know we all like to watch these disaster films, but when you think of a 30-foot wave hitting you at 170mph, it's scary stuff.

"Electricity, plumbing, roads and buildings: everything we take for granted was gone in a second. And you don't put them back in five minutes."

Relief work began almost immediately. But for all the new infrastructure, something was lacking. Botham returned to Sri Lanka in 2007 and soon concluded that sport was the missing ingredient in the recovery process.

"There was a lot of improvement in terms of facilities, but it was as if it hadn't kicked in," he says. "The thing was, the villages here are sometimes are only 100 yards apart, but they weren't communicating with one another. Everyone was so wrapped up in their own grief - which is completely understandable - that they weren't talking or working together in any way. It wasn't just money that they needed. It was sport.

"So the Laureus Sport for Good Foundation, which was set up in 2000 to promote the use of sport as a tool for social change, helped build new sports facilities and bring in sports coordinators to encourage people to take up sport again.

"They've done a magnificent job. I'm delighted by what I can see. It's brought people together. I see communities working and playing together. I see the smiles back on the faces of the kids, and I see people who have rediscovered their hope."

So what is it that inspires Botham to get up, time and time again, and lend his support to such causes?

"That's just me," he says. "Yes, I could sit in front of a TV camera and film an appeal, but it's my nature to get involved.

"You ask me why: look, when we started the walks, 25 years ago, the survival rate of children with leukaemia was around 20%. Now it's around 90%.

"And then look around here. Children who I thought might never smile again are flourishing in sports teams. They're enjoying life again. The whole place is blossoming. Does that tell you why?"

Indeed it does. And it tells us a lot about Botham, too. He's not perfect. He's not a superman and he's not a saint. Just a normal guy, with great intentions, muddling through like the rest of us. He wasn't such a bad choice as a childhood hero, after all, was he?

But you can't talk to Botham and not mention cricket, can you? And the other Botham, the less charitable sort, is quickly in evidence when he's asked to pinpoint the challenges the game currently faces.

"Lifeless pitches are the biggest threat to Test cricket," he says with feeling. "We need to stop directing groundsmen to prepare pitches that last for five days just to keep the corporate boxes full.

"Actually we need to ban people who make decisions like that from the grounds completely. It shouldn't be just about ensuring we have five days of cricket; it should be about preparing pitches that give the bowlers a chance and give us a chance of an entertaining game. Let's just get rid of all these people who make decisions just based on money and trust the groundsmen to prepare the pitches the way they want. They know best.

"We need to wake up and realise that Test cricket is the flagship of the game. We need it. I'd like to see batsmen ducking and diving a bit more."