Remembering Robin Smith, Aged 62.
During the period preceding the explosive T20 revolution, arguably nobody hit the cricket ball with greater ferocity than Robin Smith. Shaped with a prizefighter's frame but possessing the nimble footwork inherited from his mother, a ballet dancer, he produced shots – notably his ferocious square cut – with such violence they dented in perimeter fencing and shattered the morale of opponents.
Smith, who has died following a long period of ill health, presented as a figure riddled with paradox. On the surface, he appeared the embodiment of a brave, front-foot player, renowned for epic duels against express pace. But behind this mask of confidence lay a person plagued by self-doubt, a battle he concealed during his playing days but which later fuelled problems of addiction and mental health issues.
Raw Courage Mixed with a Desire for Danger
His fearlessness against pace was utterly authentic. The motivation, however, involved a combination of innate toughness and an admitted addiction to adrenaline. He seemed was built differently, actively craving the masochistic test of standing up to thunderbolts, which demanded instant responses and a high tolerance for pain.
This trait was never better displayed during his legendary undefeated knock of 148 for England against the West Indies at Lord's Cricket Ground in 1991. In challenging conditions, as Curtly Ambrose and Malcolm Marshall, he did not merely endure but thrived, relishing the brutal exchange of bouncers and boundaries. In retrospect, he said the experience as leaving him “tingling”.
A Stellar Test Career
Playing largely at number five or six, He earned caps for England over 62 Test matches plus 71 limited-overs games during an eight-year international span. He amassed more than four thousand runs in Tests averaging 43.67, which contained nine hundreds. In the one-day arena, he made 2,419 runs averaging just under 40.
A particularly brutal innings came in 1993 at Edgbaston versus the old enemy, blasting 167 ruthless runs. The display was so impressive that even the then commendations from PM John Major. Yet, in a cruel twist, England ended up losing the match.
The Moniker and a Troubled Soul
Dubbed ‘Judge’ due to an early hairstyle reminiscent of a court wig, his batting average in Tests was notably impressive, especially considering he played in a losing era. Many believe he was discarded too hastily by selectors post a fractious series of South Africa in the winter of 95/96.
He admitted in his autobiography, he felt like two distinct characters: ‘The Judge’, the arrogant, combative cricketer who loved a fight, and the man himself, a sensitive, emotional man. These two sides suppressed the other.
His staunch allegiance occasionally led to trouble. Most famously saw him defend teammate Malcolm Marshall following racist slurs at a team hotel. When verbal requests were ignored, he floored the primary abuser, a response which fractured his hand causing a significant layoff.
The Difficult Transition
Adapting to a world after professional sport was immensely challenging. The adrenaline rush gave way to the mundane realities of running companies. Attempts at and a wine bar did not succeed. Alongside problems in his marriage and mounting debts, he spiralled into alcohol dependency and severe depression.
Emigrating to Western Australia accompanied by his brother Chris provided a new beginning but couldn't resolve his underlying issues. In a moment of deep crisis, he considered ending his life, before being talked back from the brink through the care of his child and a friend.
His family includes his partner, Karin, Harrison and Margaux, and brother Chris.
