ALEC STEWART ON GRAHAM THORPE: He was England's greatest batter of his era, a special person and a great mate. I hope he knew how much he was loved

Daily Mail​

21-04-2025

Alec Stewart, who captained England in 15 Tests, played in 67 Tests and 66 one-day internationals with Graham Thorpe, who died last year. Here, in an extract from Wisden Cricketers' Almanack, he pays tribute to his great friend…
Graham and I used to drive around a lot together – he lived only ten minutes from me in Epsom – and I especially remember the car journey north to Nottingham in 1993. We were 2–0 down in the Ashes, and he was about to make his Test debut in a new-look England team.
You would have forgiven him some nerves, but it was as if we were going to a Surrey game. He was never one to make cricket bigger than it was. His attitude was: it is still a ball coming down at me, no matter who I'm playing against, or who's bowling.
And while he got bounced out by Merv Hughes in the first innings for not many, he scored a wonderful century in the second. There was never any doubt he had the talent or the temperament for international cricket.
It was a reminder of one of Graham's greatest strengths: he was rarely in awe of anyone, but he had great respect for everyone. He backed himself to do whatever the job required, and got on with it in a quiet, unassuming way.
He was an excellent footballer, good enough to play for England Under-18. Dave Sexton, then manager of the Under-21 side, was guest of honour at the game, and went round the dressing-room asking who everyone played for. He was getting all the usual answers: Man United, Arsenal, Chelsea. Then he got to Graham: 'Old Farnhamians'. Thorpey never got above his station, or blew his own trumpet.
He liked to do things his way, and each decision he made was always thought through. It is common knowledge that he would treat some official events with scepticism, at times to the irritation of the management.
Most famously, he refused to attend an event in Canterbury before the 1999 World Cup, when I was captain. I tried to persuade him to go, because I did not want him to get into trouble, or for it to become an issue for the squad. But he refused, so I told him the following morning it hadn't gone down well with the ECB, and it would be in his and everyone's interests if he apologised to the group, to ensure he only got a gentle clip round the ear from the hierarchy, rather than something more serious.
He finally agreed to the plan, and we walked into the room with David Graveney, the chairman of selectors, and a couple of other ECB personnel. He must have forgotten my advice, as he immediately expressed his thoughts in no uncertain fashion, asking them how it could help England win the World Cup if he had gone.
He made a good point, of course, even if he did not quite see the bigger picture, and it cost him a sizeable fine. Graham did not do this kind of thing with any malice; it was more a matter of principle.
And he certainly knew his own mind. When he first came on to the scene, in 1988, as a full-time professional Surrey cricketer, he was a relatively quiet lad, but steely-eyed. You could tell he knew where he wanted to get to: he just needed to work out how to get there.
The funny thing was, due to a number of injuries, he made his Surrey debut as a swing bowler, and even claimed David Gower as his first victim. But he was, what, 72mph and five-foot-not-a-lot, so that was never going to be a sensible long-term option, for him or for Surrey. More importantly, his batting was going from strength to strength, his reputation enhanced with almost every innings he played.
He was selected for England A only two years after his first-class debut, and Keith Fletcher – who was then the A-team coach – really took a shine to him. Fletch did not just admire his batting: he loved that he was a quick learner, and so determined. Fletch looked out for him, and Thorpey learned a lot from the relationship.
Graham loved cricket, but he was not a badger, in the way it can become all- encompassing for some. He was naturally competitive, having grown up with two older brothers, Ian and Alan, and was always better walking out at 40 for three than 300 for three. He liked a challenge, and was at his best when it was hard work. Above all, he loved to solve problems, and take on tough situations.
When he started out with England, he was still developing his back-foot play. The cut, pull and hook came more naturally to me, and on the 1993-94 tour in Barbados we were talking about the importance of having those shots at Test level.
He worked hard to develop them, and became a more expansive strokemaker, while remaining very selective and precise in when to take the attack to the opposition, and when to sit in. His swivel pull, right leg in the air, became a trademark shot, with many a bowler who dropped short soon on the receiving end. He had been prepared to put in the hours on the training ground to work on a slight weakness, which he turned into a real strength.
He was a natural against spin. After Graham Gooch retired in 1994-95, and before Marcus Trescothick came into the England set-up in 2000, Thorpey was by far our best player of slow bowling. Whether it was easier playing Muttiah Muralitharan as a left-hander, I am not sure – perhaps it was, until his doosra came along.
But Murali was still a real handful, and Graham played him beautifully, with great skill. He also got big runs against the likes of Shane Warne and Saqlain Mushtaq. He did not destroy spin with big sixes, but mostly manipulated the ball around, finding the gaps with ease.
The key against spin was that he did not commit himself early. He played a lot off the back foot, whereas many of us looked to go forward with harder hands, and might get caught bat–pad. He was quick on his feet, and had softer hands, so he had much more control.
The hundred he made at Lahore in 2000-01, when he scored just one four on his way to three figures, was a masterclass. A few months later, he made 113 and 32, both not out, in the deciding Test against Sri Lanka in Colombo, helping limit Murali to two wickets in the match. We won both those series, and Thorpey was a major reason for our success, confirming his status as England's best all-round batter of the era.
Those innings, plus his century against South Africa at The Oval in 2003, when he came back into the team after injury and some time away from the game, are the ones that stand out for me. A total of 100 Test caps tells you his class and, had it not been for back issues that troubled him for a large part of his career, he would easily have played at least another 30.
If you did not know him very well, you might have thought he was stand- offish. He was not: he cared about people, was loyal, and had a great sense of humour which he didn't always share with the outside world. He would have been an exceptionally good Test vice-captain if he had ever had the chance (and let's not forget he captained England in a one-day series in Sri Lanka).
At team meetings, he rarely said a word, but he was incredibly observant. He would notice if someone was struggling, and go up to them later, one on one, and ask how they were, or had they thought of this or that to help solve a problem. He had life skills, as well as cricket skills. If you were having a bad run of form, he would be the bloke knocking on your hotel-room door, checking to see if things were OK.
He always kept cricket in perspective. We had just lost a Test at Cape Town in 1995-96 when I discovered that my mum, Sheila, had been diagnosed with a brain tumour back in England. I was out for dinner with my wife, Lynn, and Graham, and had already discussed with my dad, Micky, that I would stay put with the team before some of us headed to the World Cup in the subcontinent, because that is what mum wanted.
As a family, we agreed that was the best approach: at no stage did I stop caring about my mum just because I was not back home with her. But Thorpey could not understand why I did not head home straightaway, and suggested I should, as family is paramount. I always appreciated his thoughts, and caring nature.
I was not surprised when he went into coaching. It was a natural role for someone who wanted to help others and had an eye for what made them better. It said much about him when he headed to Sydney after he retired as a player to accept a coaching position with New South Wales.
He did not dwell on the fact that there was no immediate position for him in England, and threw himself into a different and more challenging experience. He came back raving about a youngster called David Warner, who was still a couple of years away from playing for Australia. It is fair to say he got that one right.
It was the same with Joe Root. When Graham eventually started a coaching role with England, he'd often come and see me in my office at The Oval, and we'd spend a couple of hours discussing players he or I rated highly. He had been on about Joe from the moment he first saw him, and told me to look out for him as his career progressed. He realised early on that Joe was incredibly special, and had the potential to be a great.
If he liked what he saw in a cricketer, he would give that player as much of his time as possible. And he would challenge them too – there was no such thing as easy practice, in Thorpey's eyes: practise for a purpose, and to improve.
His two main questions were: can you play the fast short ball, and can you play prodigious spin? If he thought you could do both, he believed you had a real chance of succeeding at international level. It is a bit like the current set-up, where the management have worked out that there are almost two techniques: a county technique and an international technique.
Thorpey was good at not just looking at the county statistics, but working out what made a player tick, and how high their ceiling could be.
He was one of the toughest cricketers I played with, so I cannot begin to imagine what he went through towards the end of his life. I had known him for the best part of 40 years, and now no longer have my great mate to talk to and spend time with.
Far more importantly, his family have lost a son, a brother, a husband and a father. Did he realise how much he was loved? I would certainly hope so. What I do know is, if he had been looking down at his memorial service in Southwark and seen the number of people there for him, he would have had no doubt he was loved by so many.
He was a special person and a great cricketer, and I'll always miss him.