Damien Martyn: 'Brilliant but flawed'

Despite his many successes, though, a feeling lingers that Martyn might have given more to the game. He never lay naked before us, pain evident, joy unhidden. Instead he was skilful, and as dry as a creek. He did not engage, did not allow us to join him on his journey. His eyes lacked delight. Somewhere along the way Martyn was hurt. A brilliant youngster and a natural leader of the Australian under-19 team, he seemed destined for greatness. Even now it is possible to remember him all those years ago, representing his country in Chelmsford, swooping on a ball, throwing down the stumps, popular, relaxed, the gun of the side. But the flaw was also evident, the headstrong attitude that held him back for so many years.

Articulate, opinionated, intelligent and good company when he chooses to mix, Martyn is an unusual character who is not the man he seems. His jaunty walk - you could call it a swagger - and his general demeanour radiate confidence but it is really a cloak for insecurity. Unlike Glenn McGrath, who gets motivated by criticism, Martyn finds it deeply offensive, which is part of the reason he has retired. It disturbed him to go to the hotel door and pick up a paper with a story saying his future was under threat. It was killing his passion for the game.

A teen prodigy with the bat, he was stung badly when the critics turned on him after his seventh Test. He never again trusted them, their praise, or the fame they promised. He hated the spotlight, was contemptuous of the cricket media pack and seemed always wary. He was, and remains, an enigma. He scorned the time-honoured adage that a batsman must position his feet to drive a ball, yet remained one of the most graceful and effortless batsmen of his era.