Of winners and nice guys

And so they face the final curtain. For one, coaching at Malvern College appears to beckon, and perhaps a few more pounds in the ICL; for the other, who knows? I’m A Celebrity, Ballroom Dancer of the Year and Truemanesque folk hero status in Yorkshire, probably, but there’s a lot he, too, could pass on to youngsters, and even more in terms of attitude than yorkers. But how will posterity treat Graeme Hick and Darren Gough? It is hard not to suspect that the one who deserves the greater respect will be quicker to vanish from the collective memory.

Let’s get the stats over and done with first, which means a spot of jaw-dropping in Hick’s case. His choc-a-bloc swagbag contains 136 first-class hundreds (eighth on the all-time list); 178 in toto (second only to the boy Hobbs); in excess of 64,000 runs, including more than 22,000 in List A matches, with power to pass Graham Gooch’s record tally; more than 1200 games and 1,000 catches. Readers of the 2058 Wisden will doubtless revere him in the way we do Grace and Hobbs.

Gough’s figures are even more impressive, and all concern his derrings and doings for country rather than county: most ODI wickets for England (236); second-best strike-rate (35.9); ninth most Test wickets (229, though Steve Harmison and Andrew Flintoff will soon relegate him from the Top 10); second-best average, 28.39, behind Angus Fraser among England bowlers claiming 100 Test scalps since Viv Richards hammered Bob Willis into retirement in 1984; an Ashes hat-trick; kick-started the Nasser Hussain era with 72 wickets at 21.20 in 15 Tests spanning five series against West Indies, Sri Lanka (away), Pakistan (away and home) and a Flowered-up Zimbabwe in 2000-01, all of which would have been won but for a horrible post-tea collapse in the final session of the streak; most impressively of all, only Fred Trueman has bettered his Test strike rate (51.6) among Poms harvesting 80-plus victims since the First World War.

When they first played together for England, in an ODI against the Kiwis at Trent Bridge in 1994, Hick actually outbowled Gough (2-32 v 2-36), but their paths, in terms of international achievement, diverged greatly from then on. Whereas Gough, chest and cheeks puffing with pride and unstinting effort, would have been England’s only shoo-in for a World XI in the late 1990s, Hick became a byword for lack of nerve and/or backbone. Whereas Gough was still busy talking up his England prospects long after he’d been put out to grass, one always had the sense that Hick couldn’t escape the spotlight quickly enough.

Perhaps we judge him too harshly. Perhaps we shouldn’t use that Test average of 31 as the ultimate barometer. For one thing, had he made his debut 10 years later and Ian Bell his 10 years earlier, given the way the planet’s bowlers have suffered at the hands of legislation and pitches this decade, it is eminently possible that their averages would have been reversed. For another, his one-day record – sixth most runs for England, ninth highest average, second-most catches by a non-keeper, better strike-rate than Monty Panesar – is far more representative of his value to the national cause. Then there is the small matter of expectation. Has any cricketer ever made his Test debut burdened with so many predictions of greatness?

What, then, of the fact, of which much was once made, that he is an Englishman by trade rather than birth? When Mark Ramprakash and Andy Caddick decide they have finally had enough of the county-go-round, we will probably be making similar comparisons and drawing much the same conclusions. The difference is that whereas the Harrow-born Ramprakash is the Hick in statistical terms, it is the converted Pom, Caddick, Goughie’s erstwhile new-ball partner, who took to the highest stages with the greater zeal.

At the highest level, it all comes down to attitude. Does your self-belief outweigh the belief others have in you? Can you keep self-doubt at bay? Can you convince yourself, and your team-mates, that no mountain is too high, no sorcery beyond you? Do you carry yourself like a winner and talk like a champion? Are you, above all, a competitor by instinct? Gough and Caddick tick most if not all those boxes, treading as they do that thin line separating arrogance from complete self-assurance; if Hick and Ramprakash tick any of them it is only because, for the most part, they possess the dignity of those accustomed to receiving accolades and laurels.

To hear the two pacemen squabble over their respective Test records on TV a few Saturdays back – and the jocularity was barely skin-deep - was to bear witness to one of the most enduring rivalries in sport. They couldn’t help themselves. Even now, in their professional dotage, they need the edge of competition like the rest of us need oxygen. You wouldn’t necessarily crave their friendship. Can you imagine Hicky and Ramps having a similar bout of verbal fisticuffs, even in jest? Nor me. Ramprakash has always been too serious, too hard on himself, Hick too sincere, too soft on others. Lovely blokes both, but neither has the inner security to be able to bluff his way out of a hole.

Hick should be treasured as one of the greatest runmakers in history, period. Gough ought to be remembered as the bowler who did most to restore his country’s cricketing self-respect. Both deserve our respect and gratitude. But as the prizes for playing ballgames grow, it’s getting that much harder for nice guys to finish first.