A Robin Smith square cut was more than a whip‑crack snap of the bat. For English cricket fans of the late 80s and early 90s, it was a nudge in the ribs that, underneath the pastings, the dismal collapses and Rentaghost selections, the national team would fight another day.
Smith’s cut, alongside a David Gower cover drive, gave hope where there was little left in the bucket. Those famous forearms – half oak, half baobab – the white shirt unbuttoned past the clavicle, the chain glinting through his chest hair, smelt enticingly like bravery, and old spice and one last throw of the dice.
