So long, Murali

Above all, what defined Murali is his smile - whether it came when employing the typical agricultural hoick over midwicket, or that extraordinarily blind pull shot that often used to get him out, or even while bowling: he would be smashed for six, and what you noticed was the wide smile, the enjoyment he took in every contest, even when he was being bested [among contemporary greats, Murali alone stood out for never giving a bested batsman a send-off; he reveled in the contest, but when he won, he accepted that triumph with a grace and humility bordering on the inhuman].

When Hirst and Rhodes famously "got 'em in singles", a spectator is said to have gnawed his way through the handle of his umbrella such was the tension. No brolly would have been safe yesterday. And what a roar must have echoed off the fort walls as Mahela Jayawardene plunged to pilfer the catch that sealed the innings and, as if it ever needed further defining, Muttiah Muralitharan's place in the pantheon. An 800th Test wicket, the final one of his final innings, with his last ball on the final day of a peerless career.

The numbers challenge belief — 800 wickets from 133 matches at 22.72 is a record that, like Sir Donald Bradman's average of 99.94, will probably stand forever. However, it is Murali's role in broadening perception that offers a measure of his bowling. It was fitting that he was born in Sri Lanka, where cricketers are allowed to develop organically, free from the chains of petty orthodoxies. Blessed with singular physical gifts — the combination of a hyper-mobile shoulder and an elastic wrist helped him put more work on the ball than any spinner in the history of the game — Murali set about customising his craft.

That a Tamil emerged as Sri Lanka's greatest sporting icon when that nation was fighting a bitter ethnic war, offers the hope that there is life beyond narrowly defined ethnic identities. When officials in Australia questioned Murali's bowling action, the Sri Lankan team and administration under Arjuna Ranatunga fiercely defended his honour. For a nation that needs to put aside the ravages of war and ethnic mistrust, there's perhaps no better example than Murali to inspire a process of mutual respect and reconciliation.

I was coming to the end of my career and I needed something to fire me up. I just thought our players were being a bit too friendly with Murali, the smiling assassin.

Andrew Flintoff had even lent him his bat and, when Murali scored a quick 30 against us, it was the last straw to me. It was hard enough playing against him as it was without us helping him!

So I let rip at Murali and, though I denied it to the referee, I called him a cheating chucker with an expletive thrown in, as it were, for good measure. I think Murali was pretty shocked, to be honest, but I really didn’t mean it. It was just the place I was in at that stage of my career.