He was a man who chose the hardest art possible in the sport he loved, and played his cricket with passion dripping from every pore.
In the Australian team of the late 1990s and early 2000s, they had talent to burn: Matthew Hayden,Ricky Ponting, Steve and Mark Waugh, Adam Gilchrist and Glenn McGrath to name a few.
Yet The King Of Spin is who fans most turned up to see and who we, the opposition, most feared.
Before Warne, an aggressive spin bowler was somewhat of an oxymoron. Aggression was for fast bowlers, where bouncers and sandshoe crushers were the order of the day.
However, a chubby, frosted-tipped, mulleted leg spinner from Victoria, who debuted against India at Sydney in January 1992, would soon reign supreme for the next two decades.
Chris Cairns, Shane Warne and Jeff Wilson ahead of the FICA World XI match in 2005. Photo / Photosport
In that first match there were minimal signs of the talent and destruction to come, but over the next 15 years I was lucky to play against "Warnie" on many occasions.
The first decade was a nightmare. Three things struck you most when facing him.
First, the drift. I had never encountered this from any bowler before. Warne imparted so much spin on the ball that it generated obscene revolutions travelling down the pitch. This caused deliveries to move from right to left in the air as you faced him. As a right hander, if your balance was not centred, your head would fall over attempting to play around your front pad. That left you a sitting duck for a bat-pad catch.
Second, the flipper. What a sublime thing of beauty. The deception was genius. Warnie would set you up by bowling a shorter ball. You would gleefully rock back and swipe the delivery through covers. Feeling chuffed after dispatching Shane Warne for four, he would then flummox you. The flipper appeared short again but, because it was quicker and pushed out the front of his hand, it travelled further than you anticipated. You'd end up going back to a full ball and be hit in front. Cairns lbw Warne… again.
Third, the belief. Warnie's faith in his ability was unwavering and mesmerising. You could never get under his skin. Except once, in my experience.
The moment came in Hamilton, the third test against Australia in March, 2000.
I had finally worked out how to play Warnie and was in a purple patch during the series. I felt confident facing anything he could bowl. I'd hit him for several boundaries in the second innings and then pushed a ball into the onside for a single.
As I ran through he moved towards me, so I had to walk closely past him. He looked at me and whispered "Thank f**k you're off strike". Only he and I were privy to this exchange and it is my most cherished cricketing memory. It holds even more significance now because this champion of a man, who was so kind and generous with his time, is gone too soon. But his legacy will burn bright forever.
