Cricket Mourns England Batting Great, Aged 62.
Long before the dawn of the high-octane T20 format, few could match the cricket ball with more raw power than Robin Smith. Constructed with a prizefighter's frame yet blessed with the agile movement from his mother, a dancer, his shots were unleashed – especially his trademark square cut – with such devastating power that they left dents in perimeter fencing while crushing bowlers' confidence.
Smith has passed away after a prolonged illness, was a man filled with stark contrasts. On the surface, he was the very image of courageous, aggressive batting, famed for memorable contests against express pace. However, beneath this facade of bravado lay a man constantly questioning his own worth, a battle he kept hidden during his playing days that subsequently contributed to struggles against alcoholism and depression.
Unflinching Guts Coupled with a Craving for Danger
His bravery versus fast bowling could never be doubted. The source of this courage, was a complex blend of pure grit and an admitted need for the rush. Many felt he was built differently, seeking out the brutal examination of facing extreme pace, which calls for blistering reactions and an ability to absorb blows.
This was perfectly illustrated in his famous undefeated knock of 148 representing his country facing the Caribbean pace attack at Lord's in 1991. On a difficult pitch, as Curtly Ambrose and Malcolm Marshall, he did not merely endure he positively flourished, apparently delighting in the fierce contest of short balls and fours. He admitted afterwards the experience as leaving him “buzzing”.
A Stellar Test Career
Featuring mostly in the middle order, Smith played for England over 62 Test matches and 71 ODIs between 1988 and 1996. He accumulated 4,236 Test runs averaging 43.67, including nine hundreds. In the one-day arena, he made 2,419 ODI runs at an average close to 40.
One of his most destructive displays occurred in 1993 at Edgbaston against Australia, blasting a brutal 167 runs. It was such a domineering performance that he was reportedly personally congratulated PM John Major. Sadly, a recurring theme, his team still failed to win that contest.
His Nickname and Lasting Contradictions
Affectionately nicknamed ‘the Judge’ because of a youthful haircut resembling a judicial wig, his batting average in Tests was notably impressive, not least because he played for a frequently defeated England team. It is widely felt he was discarded too hastily by selectors post a fractious series of South Africa in 1995-96.
As he later confessed, he felt like two people: ‘the Judge’, the ruthless on-field warrior who thrived on battle, and Robin Smith, a sensitive, emotional man. Each persona fought for dominance.
An unshakeable sense of loyalty could also be his downfall. In a notable incident saw him defend West Indian colleague Malcolm Marshall against racial taunts in Leicester. When verbal requests were ignored, Smith knocked out the primary abuser, a move which fractured his hand causing a significant layoff.
The Difficult Transition
Adapting to a world after professional sport proved exceptionally difficult. The buzz of the game gave way to the routine demands of business. Attempts at and a wine bar did not succeed. Compounded by a strained relationship and serious money troubles, he spiralled into heavy drinking and severe depression.
A move to Australia alongside his children provided a new beginning but failed to fix his underlying issues. During his darkest hour, he contemplated suicide, before being talked back from that decision by the intervention of family and a neighbour.
Robin Smith is survived by his partner, Karin, Harrison and Margaux, and his brother, Chris.
