Richie Benaud dead: Australia mourns loss of cricketing great

"For when the One Great Scorer comes

"To mark against your name

"He writes – not that you won or lost –

"But how you played the Game."

And that, of course, is the first of the reasons that the late, great, Richie Benaud arose to iconic status in Australian sport.

Vale, Richie Benaud.

Malcolm Knox: Sports columnist with The Sydney Morning Herald

Richie Benaud loved to tell the self-deprecating story of being asked, as a famous commentator, whether he ever actually played cricket. A trained journalist and broadcaster – not a celebrity parachuted into the commentary box – Benaud enjoyed an authentic media career. So secure was he in the success of his second life, it amused him to think that time was erasing the memory of his first.

As a cricketer, Benaud was more than a symbol of post-war liberality, an icon, with his unbuttoned shirt and emotional celebrations, of the change in style from 1948, when he played his first first-class game, to 1964, when he played his last: from Peggy Lee to the Beatles. As a cricketer, Benaud was among the best Australia has ever produced.

Greg Baum: Chief sports columnist with The Age.

The immensity of the loss of Richie Benaud from our lounge rooms, our lore and our lives is best expressed by an anecdote Benaud related against himself.

As he left the commenators' eyrie at the SCG at the end of day's play in 1982, Benaud obliged with an autograph for a 12-year-old boy, who thanked him, then asked: "Did you ever play cricket for Australia, Mr Benaud?"

Benaud was more amused than offended. He did not live in the past, an ever increasing long time ago. He made his debut for New South Wales a few months after Don Bradman retired. He understood that anyone born after 1960 would have no living recollection of himself as an Australian cricketer, a leg-spinning all-rounder and shrewd and successful captain.

5. He was a modern professional cricketer before his time: Charismatic with a distinctive style and excellent instincts for public relations.

6. He was a cultural icon: During his playing days with Brylcreemed hair, his unbuttoned shirt and raised eyebrows. Fellow commentator Bill Lawry said last summer: "He would burst through the gate with the shirt open, the Brylcreem and the tan.

"It was just magnificent. Forget the skin cancer, Richie, you looked beautiful back then, don't worry about that," Lawry said.

7. He was a staunch defender of cricket on free-to-air TV: As such, he ended his English commentary career after the 2005 Ashes when Channel 4 lost the coverage rights to Sky Sports.

8. He inspired an entire genre of Australian satire: "Two hundred and twenty two for two."The 12th Man was based upon his commentary and, of course, the rest of the Nine commentary team. Comedian Billy Birmingham produced eight albums over 22 years from 1984 to 2006, with a global following in the UK, South Africa and New Zealand.

9. He was an old-school police reporter. Unlike a lot of modern sports broadcasters he rose up through the ranks. Richie started his journalistic career at the (now defunct) News of the World in London, as a police roundsman, before moving into sports, and then working his way into radio and TV.

10. He was 1962 Wisden Cricketer of the Year: The cricketer's bible had this to say at the time: "If one player, more than any other, has deserved well of cricket for lifting the game out of the doldrums, that man is Richard Benaud. Captain of Australia in four successive and triumphant series to the end of 1961, he has demonstrated to enthusiasts all over the world that the intention to make cricket, particularly Test cricket, attractive and absorbing is every bit as important as skilled technique in batting, bowling and fielding. He has succeeded in his aim to re-create interest in cricket because he loves playing it."

The great Keith Miller was also on the scene, a contributor to the Sporting Life, a magazine published by the company, then Associated Press.

A trip in the lift with Miller made a copy boy's month while Richie, considering he came from out Parramatta way, marginally short of the Black Stump, didn't even warrant an autograph request.

Richie wanted to be a journalist but the editor, Lindsay Clinch - a little bloke with a thick, bushy top, who ground words out from between teeth that seemed to have a permanent death grip on a pipe - would have none of it.

Clinch was only too happy to use "by Richie Benaud", but the material would be done by a ghost writer. However, Richie wanted to produce his own copy.

"Win the Ashes (in 1959) and I'll give you a go," Clinch relented. Richie obliged and on his return, Clinch was quickly approached to honour the marker.