Graham's honesty, generosity and spirit saw him live up to the Cowdrey name

SIMON HUGHES pays tribute to one of his best friends in cricket and recalls going soft on him at the Benson and Hedges final in 1986

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For a few years Graham Cowdrey was my best friend in cricket. His father Colin was my boyhood hero. His was the only autograph I’d ever had. I played against his eldest son Chris and was at university with the middle one Jeremy. But it was when I met Graham, known to everyone as ‘Van’ after his obsession with Van Morrison that I felt I really got to know the Cowdrey dynasty. 

Van was perhaps the most talented and yet least confident of the family. He was always self-deprecating which I felt was perhaps his way of coping with being the youngest member of such a famous cricketing family. We bonded in an unlikely yet symbolic place – Bangalore – close to where his father was born.

We were part of an International Ambassadors XI – a team of county and good club players touring India on behalf of the Christians in Sport movement (my only qualification being three years as a – very bad – church organist in my late teens.) We were billeted together in the hotels on our trip. 

We talked for hours over endless Mysore coffees about family, cricket and existentialism. I was a confirmed atheist, he veered between numerous beliefs, settling on being a disciple of Morrison. He had bags of tapes of his beloved Irish vocalist and had been to literally hundreds of his concerts. He was deeply affected by his father leaving his mother, Penny, and moving in with Lady Herries, the daughter of the Duchess of Norfolk.

He was uncertain whether to bat in his father’s traditional style or go for the more freewheeling approach of his brother Chris. He was confused about what creed to follow not ultimately helped by my regular assertion that allegiance to any religion caused more problems than it solved. (We were subsequently separated as roomies because I was deemed a ‘bad’ influence).

^{Scorecard from the 1986 Benson and Hedges final}

But our bond held strong and we met up regularly despite being in opposing teams. My affection for him caused my performance to be compromised on the biggest of stages. We faced each other in the 1986 Benson and Hedges final at Lord’s. On a heavily overcast day, Middlesex battled to 199 for 7 in our 55 overs. We took early wickets and reduced Kent to 72 for 5. Graham came in at No.6. He had had a poor season so far and I knew his contract was up at the end of the summer. 

I was bowling when he came in. The ball was swinging lavishly and there was a lot of playing and missing. But I wanted him to do well and subconsciously I didn’t run in as hard when he was facing. I didn’t have the heart to get him out early. He got a start and converted it into a belligerent 58, the highest score of the match. It gave Kent a very real chance of winning until I had him rather fortuitously caught at mid-wicket with 22 required.

I managed to hold my nerve in the pouring rain (evidenced by the smudges on my father’s scorecard, pictured above) to defend 14 off the last over and Middlesex sneaked home. But I was happier about Graham’s performance. It saved his career and he played for Kent for another 10 years, without ever gaining major recognition.    

We remained close and went on another India tour together and he often used to invite me into the Kent dressing room even after I’d retired. He had a house on the Duchess of Norfolk’s estate at Arundel and I stayed there a few times.

Living in a neighbouring property, his father still had a considerable presence which Graham nonchalantly played down but I think it affected him deeply. I sensed he felt he had not quite lived up to the family name. In fact, his honesty, generosity, spirit and total unselfishness enhanced it. He had so much left to give and was taken far too young.