At the most famous cricket ground in the world, inside the sport’s most revered pavilion, there is a lifesize painting of a man who terrorised English cricket for 15 years. Across the manicured green turf at Lord’s, inside cricket’s most celebrated media centre, the main commentary box is named after this generational tormentor. About 84 miles away, at the Rose Bowl near Southampton, an entire stand bears his name.
English cricket has every reason to hate Shane Warne. In 36 Ashes Tests, he bagged 195 wickets at an average of 23.25. From his opening ball of the century at Old Trafford in 1993 to his final bow in Sydney in 2007, he seemed to operate on a different plane. This peroxided devil ruined summers and deepened cold, bitter winters, yet he became an English national treasure, the perfect reminder that cricket, above all else, is something that should be enjoyed.
