In the eras before the Twenty20 format nobody hit a cricket ball harder than Robin Smith. Muscled like a prizefighter but with quick feet inherited from his ballet dancer mother, he produced strokes, the square cut especially, with a force that left dents in boundary boards and opponents’ ambitions. His wicket was highly sought after, for teams knew they were in for a hand-wringing experience, in all senses, should he spend any time at the crease.
But Smith, who has died aged 62 after a long period of ill-health, was a mass of contradictions. On the face of it he was a courageous, attacking batter famed for thrilling encounters with fast bowlers, yet behind the bravado was a highly insecure person who constantly questioned his worth. Having kept this well hidden during his playing days, he later suffered from alcoholism and depression.
