As player Crowe was described last week as elegance personified. He brought skill and grace to the game, much like All Black inside backs like Bruce Robertson did eons ago, before bulk and raw power became the keys to breaking an opposing team's defence. Above all he was in control of his technique and his emotions as he set about plying his trade, qualities that are obviously now lacking in a game that has become synonymous with poor sportsmanship and tantrums.
One of the images that has repeatedly been replayed on television over recent days shows him briefly shaking the proffered hand of the bowler who delivered the ball that brought up one of his centuries. You don't see much of that these days. Nor did we see him abuse opposition players when they lost their wickets. If he had played until he was 100 we would not have heard him ask 'Who's the f ... third umpire?' when an opposing batsman was ruled not out.
He made hitting a cricket ball the art it is supposed to be, an attitude that Ross Taylor remembered well when he spoke of his friend and mentor's passing last week. Crowe had been invited to appraise an up and coming Taylor in action for Central Districts, observing, after he had seen him score 40-odd runs off 25 balls, that he was "nothing but a dirty slogger."
Taylor isn't the only current New Zealand player who has paid tribute to the great Martin Crowe for developing their game to the point where they have become fixtures in the national team, an influence that they will hopefully pass on to their successors.
To a degree he was a product of his time, but he was much more than that. Martin Crowe was a throw back to the days when cricket was a game for gentlemen, when it had its own code of honour and before it became tainted by money. A time when a batsman would walk when the ball feathered his glove without waiting for the umpire to make a decision. But he carried that decency into every aspect of his life. That is why he deserves to be remembered with affection and gratitude, and why the example he set is so important.
Last week one Leighton Smith, a teacher in Invercargill, wrote a tribute that was read by the other Leighton Smith, on Newstalk ZB. Smith the author agreed that New Zealand, and not just the sporting and in particular cricket fraternity, had lost someone special, one of this country's greatest natural sportsmen. He wrote of his Crowe's courage, referred to by former international Dion Nash as being displayed when he faced Pakistan fast bowler Wazim Akram without a helmet.
"To me, that's how utterly fearless and courageous Martin Crowe was. I also believe Crowe showed exactly the same fearlessness and courage facing and during his cancer illness," he added.
"I believe Martin Crowe was one of the country's most intelligent sportsmen. Not pure intellect, more so his analytical skills and strategic planning ... You never ever saw Martin Crowe slog a cricket ball. Every shot he played was executed with skill, precision, perfect timing, finesse, and a natural rhythm only he seemed to possess.
"And it was how Crowe carried himself that I will never forget. Such poise, such dignity, never the showman, never the flamboyant party animal, just a humble, elegant, deeply passionate and emotional elite sportsman who also just so happened to be the ultimate gentleman.
"What a hero! What a perfect example and model for budding school boys to emulate. There is no greater New Zealand cricketer for young school boys to admire, study, and follow the same set of principles and code of sporting ethics."
Well said. That is what Martin Crowe should be remembered for, long after his statistical exploits have been expunged from the record book. He was that most admired of people in this day and age, a home-grown New Zealander who was successful on the world sporting stage, but one of those rare individuals who played the game for the right reasons, and in the spirit that was originally intended and was once commonly displayed.
How ironic it has been to hear Australian cricket players praising the virtues he took to the game given the lack of sportsmanship that pervades the game on that side of the Tasman, to such a degree now that it was suggested last year that the majority of Australians, the world's greatest lovers of winners and least tolerant of losers as they might be perceived to be, don't actually like their cricket team. Martin Crowe never walked out to the middle intent on winning by fair means or foul. It is inconceivable that he would have goaded an opposition player or abused an official. He had justified faith in his skill, and let that do the talking for him.
He certainly passed the Rudyard Kipling test, meeting with Triumph and Disaster and treating those two impostors just the same, with flying colours. He talked with crowds and kept his virtue, walked with kings and did not lose the common touch. And we loved him for it.
Martin Crowe is remembered by the cricketing fraternity as a master technician and tactician, an innovator, to some as a cricketing genius. To the rest of us he deserves to be remembered as a decent man, one who made the most of his gifts and who led by example, on and off the field. No greater tribute could be paid to his memory than nurturing the qualities he displayed in the next generation, and the next. The example he gave us all, including those who have never picked up a cricket bat or ball, is worthy of remembering. We can all be the better for that.
