This is what Athers said in today's Times...
Mike Atherton Chief Cricket Correspondent
Last updated September 17 2010 12:01AM
There was a lot going on yesterday, what with the County Championship reaching a dramatic climax, Mervyn Westfield being charged by Essex Police with spot-fixing and the Pope taking time out to bless these atheistic shores. There was still the appetite for Fred, though.
In itself, this is remarkable since Flintoff’s last appearance as a cricketer, rather than as a by-standing celebrity, was just over a year ago at the Brit Oval. Then, in a glorious scene- stealing moment to rival any played by Marlon Brando, he threw down Ricky Ponting’s stumps to help England to regain the Ashes. Given yesterday’s announcement of his retirement from all forms of the game, it was to be his last act. What a way to go.
That is not what Flintoff wanted, of course, hence the “sadness” he referred to in the press release. Flintoff wanted, more than anything else, to continue to hear the crowds chant his name, if not as a Test cricketer any more, than as a travelling twenty20 entertainer.
“Freelance Fred” they called him and he saw himself charting a new course, independent and free from control of cricket’s governing bodies. A contract here, a contract there.
That may yet come to pass for some, but not for Flintoff whose body finally gave up on him before he was ready to give up on the game. For anyone, whether you have played a hundred Tests or one, whether you have played for ten years or for two, that is a hard thing to cope with. Despite all the baubles won and the accolades rightfully due, Flintoff will have been a sad man yesterday. That locker at Old Trafford now belongs to someone else.
But rather more quickly than most, because of the fortunate position he finds himself in — not many can afford to simply take time out as Flintoff said he will do — and because of the enormous fund of goodwill he has built up, that sadness will be replaced by relief. No more injections, no more operations, no more rehab and no more uncertainty. He can get on with the rest of his life now that his period in limbo is over.
It was the English public that Flintoff was quick to thank yesterday, along with his family and his team-mates from Lancashire and England. “I am indebted to the encouragement and support I have always received from England’s magnificent supporters,” he said. And that may well be the link that endures most strongly for him. After all, he has been little more than an intermittent presence for Lancashire throughout his career and England have moved on seamlessly without him.
There has always been a special bond between those supporters and the man they saw as the heart and soul of English cricket throughout the first decade of this century. Partly, this was because they saw in Flintoff something of their best selves: a down-to-earth Northern lad, unchanged by success, popular with all, quick to smile, slow to anger and quick to enjoy the fruits of his labours. No matter there was as much myth there as reality.
What cannot be doubted was that Flintoff, more than anyone, helped English cricket to learn to love itself again after a period in the doldrums. In that brief time, either side of 2005 and especially during the Ashes series of that summer, Flintoff was the best face of English cricket, harrying the Australians to defeat after years of kowtowing and doing so in a manner that forced Ricky Ponting into admitting that, yes, he wouldn’t have minded having Flintoff in his team.
When supporters take a little bit of Flintoff with them, it is that series they will take; the thundering all-round performance at Edgbaston and the way he consoled Brett Lee at the end, in particular. By any standards, they are special memories. That people have a selective memory is one of the most pleasant things I have found out about retirement: so they won’t remember the injuries, the drunken episodes and the whitewash in Australia under his captaincy. They will remember the good bits and that will sustain him.
Yesterday, in a warm tribute, Andrew Strauss, the England captain, hailed Flintoff as “the ultimate impact” cricketer. That is about right. It is hard to argue, over the length of his whole career, that Flintoff belongs to the elite. But there were moments and matches, when he sniffed the air, sensed the mood, dragged his team-mates and the crowd with him, when he could change the course of a game, when he belonged in exalted company. They were brief moments, but undeniable.
In a rather less generous tribute, Graeme Swann indicated that England had moved on and would not be troubled by Flintoff’s absence. “Our team last year was very confident,” he said. “We didn’t need people going round and geeing up little quivering leaves in the corner. If he can’t come back, it’s sad, but so be it. No individual is bigger than the team.”
That, too, is true. But somewhere between the words of Strauss and Swann there is a link and Flintoff was part of that link. England are confident and successful now and they will not miss Flintoff.
But they were not always so bold and brave and Flintoff played his part in that renaissance. For that, and for the memories, he has our gratitude.
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