An underrated English hero

His run-up begins with a movement that is a cross between a trot and a shuffle, an action fitting for his appearance. Then he energetically runs in, mane straggling in the wind, pounding the ground with heavy footsteps. This bustling finally culminates in his last act: the release. With a cocked wrist, bent right limb, and leading arm slanted across his body, he whips the ball round, planting it on a good length.

Typically, the left-handed batsman, thinking the ball will innocuously wander down the off-side, is lulled into a false sense of security, only to be surprised by the prodigious swing once the ball has pitched. With his feet misplaced and bat hanging out from their body, the batsman observes in disbelief as the ball strikes his pads or collides with his off stump.

With his two index fingers raised, he celebrates in a similar style to how he ran in, his hair suitably being ruffled by his team-mates this time. This, for the first few years of my cricketing life, was the best sight in English cricket. This is the magic of Matthew Hoggard. While the likes of Andrew Flintoff and Steve Harmison stole the headlines, Hoggard was always the bowler upon whom England could rely, evident in his superior bowling average to his peers and number of wickets taken (with 248, he stands a mighty sixth in the list of England’s all-time leading wicket-takers).

However, there was so much more to Hoggie than numbers; his bowling had an indomitable air about it: no matter what the conditions were or who the opponent was, he would keep running in, endeavouring to take a wicket, never meekly surrendering to a challenge. Critics say that he was ineffective when conditions did not favour swing, but that never stopped him trying, and as his seven-wicket haul in Australia suggests, he eventually combated those limitations.

He was also stoic night-watchman, and scorer of the most important four in England’s Test history (who can forget that boundary he scored off of Brett Lee’s bowling at Trent Bridge?) He played with dignity, character and a smile for England, and the ECB’s treatment of him was outrageous. After years of unswerving service, opening the bowling with acclaim, he was dropped to make way for younger players. In any other line of work, Hoggard probably could have sued, but, instead, he returned to his county and showed England just what they were missing.

If there was one thing that Hoggard showed me, it was that you do not have to be the fastest, tallest, or meanest to be a fantastic fast bowler. Instead, consistency, effort, and perspiration win over eventually, too. He may not have the speed of Lee or the glamour of Kevin Pietersen, but Hoggard was a truly English champion and never let anyone down. He may not have been the best in the world, but he was good enough to be my hero.