RIP Graham Stevenson

It is always sad - and a sign of one's own advancing years - when reading of the death of someone whose cricket enlivened your boyhood.

Such a player was Graham Stevenson, the Yorkshire all-rounder whose early death was announced today after a recent stroke. Fifty-eight is way too young to die and for those who recall his vibrant, energy-filled displays for club and country it is a sad day.

He had everything as a cricketer except, perhaps, the nous to always play the right shot at the right time, or just to keep things tight rather than go for the wicket ball every time. He was a similar kind of player to Phil De Freitas - he could hit a ball as far as anyone and bowl aggressively enough to keep good players on their toes and guessing. He had one of the best arms I have seen, probably only matched in my recollection by former Essex stalwart Keith Boyce.

When I think of them both it is on the boundary edge, swooping and throwing in flat, hard and over the stumps, time after time. Maybe the memory plays tricks, but nothing seemed to go in on the bounce, irrespective of the distance of the boundary.

Above all, he had a never-say-die spirit that was loved by Yorkshire supporters and appreciated - albeit grudgingly at times - by opposition fans. He walked out to bat with a smile on his face and with an air that suggested the game was not yet dead, even if the scoreboard said differently.

Geoff Boycott called him one of his favourite cricketers, which coming from an all-time great is as good an accolade as one could wish for. Had he been born twenty years later, his dynamic style of cricket would have earned him a fortune in T20, where he would have been in demand across the globe.

A sad day, then. But those who saw him play will never forget a competitor and a raw talent as good as anyone. He may not have reached the real heights, but he entertained.

For any sportsman, there can be no greater epitaph.

Rest in Peace, Graham.