Cricket: Flintoff defines the times

Andrew Flintoff

For those who like their ale more than their cricket - and cricket, being the new football, attracts a fair few of those - the best time to avoid queuing at the bar on day two was shortly before two o'clock.

Out in the middle Andrew 'Freddie' Flintoff was approaching his first century against Australia and no one was leaving their seats. He had reached his 50 with a six off Shane Warne. An expectant arena was waiting to see him achieve three figures the same way.

Warne knew this as well as anyone so he teased Flintoff, flighting a series of balls into the rough outside his leg stump. Flintoff was tempted - tempted enough to play a false shot or two. Chastened, he dabbed the ball square for a single. The crowd roared none the less, a wave of pride and emotion rolling across this expanse of Nottinghamshire.

This uncomplicated Lancastrian has become the defining figure of the 2005 Ashes summer. His ebullient cricket has typified England's aggressive attempt to storm the crumbling ramparts of Australian supremacy.

At stumps on day two resistance seemed futile, Australia 99-5 chasing down England's Flintoff-inspired 477.

But it was Flintoff's consoling of Brett Lee, at the conclusion of the Edgbaston test that England snuck by two runs despite Lee's heroics, that symbolised the enduring appeal of cricket's sporting traditions.

At a time when Chelsea's corporate arrogance, Rio Ferdinand's greed and the Premiership's predictability have prompted a disenchantment with football, this combination of English adventure and good manners has given cricket, and Flintoff, a lustre unmatched since the retirement of one I.T Botham.

Oh dear, only a few paragraphs in and already Botham has muscled his way into another Flintoff piece. The comparisons, invidious though they may be, are unavoidable. Flintoff, as Rodney Marsh said memorably, "is an excitement machine". His batting empties bars and so, increasingly, does his bowling. Both, most importantly, win matches.

His century overnight Friday put the fourth test beyond the tourists' grasp and undoubtedly contributed to the deflated way they embarked upon their innings.

Flintoff's impact cannot be measured in runs and wickets alone. Like Botham, he lifts his team and intimidates opponents. Where the two differ is off the pitch. The Beefy Excitement Machine did not have an off switch; the Freddie version does.

Away from the test arena he lives quietly in Cheshire with his wife, Rachael, and their baby daughter, Holly. The youngster whose liking for a beer and kebabs led to him being called Fat Freddie as he ballooned to 120kg has matured into a private family man.

The question facing Flintoff is whether this can last. England's Ashes campaign is a team effort but Flintoff is the talisman, the catalyst, the face on the front pages. Should England win the Ashes celebrity will be thrust upon the Lancastrian, whether he welcomes it or not. Life will change, he will be tabloid fodder and his freedom will feel curtailed. What is within Flintoff's control is the extent and longevity of his fame. He has Rachael and Holly's names tattooed on his arms but he is no David Beckham.

 

His role model is Jonny Wilkinson. Cricket is not the new football - it is the new rugby union. The burst of publicity it is enjoying at present is analogous to that received by the oval-ball code during and after England's World Cup triumph. Wilkinson was the Flintoff of that team, a homespun match-winner.

English cricket needs Flintoff if it is to build on this revival.

Marsh, who kept wicket to the great Australian team of the fast bowler Dennis Lillee and the Chappell brothers, and then swapped sides to develop young English talent in the game, believes that Flintoff is a future captain.

"I just love him. He's so good for cricket, and he is a great man as well to go with his fantastic ability. He is just as happy having a beer and a chat with his mates as he is playing Australia."

- INDEPENDENT