Henry Blofeld, right, says he leaves the Test Match Special programme in the safest of hands led by Jonathan Agnew. Photograph: Visionhaus/Corbis via Getty Images

The expectation was they would carry Henry Blofeld out of the Test Match Special commentary box in a coffin. He has always loved the cricket and the microphone in equal measure. And he is one of lifes great troupers. Yet now we learn that, at 77, he has announced his retirement from TMS in September. It is a bit of a shock.

His last game on air is scheduled to be Englands third Test against West Indies at Lords. When he bids farewell expect something more flowery than John Arlotts final sentence on TMS in 1980, which was: After a word from Trevor Bailey it will be Christopher Martin-Jenkins. For Henry, pigeons will presumably assemble around St Johns Wood like the Red Arrows.

Henry has adorned the TMS box for 45 years with a few interruptions (like the good freelance, he had a go with Sky TV for a while before returning to the fold). I have had the good fortune to sit alongside him now and again for more than 25 of those years, marvelling at his energy, his preposterous ability to spot butterflies and buses, and his intimate knowledge of the game of cricket. While Henry may struggle to identify the exact name of the bloke fielding at third man, he could give you every last detail of the England team that won the Ashes in 1956 or in 1981 when he was commentating at the end of the famous Botham Test at Headingley.

Henrys zest for life is remarkable. In the 1960s this was reflected by his decision to drive to India in a vintage Rolls-Royce to cover an England tour with John Woodcock of the Times as one of his travelling companions. On one distant subcontinental tour he almost played for England as sickness hit the dressing room. He was easily the best qualified among the press corps to do so since he was a prodigious young batsman and wicketkeeper at Eton and Cambridge. My impression is he played a few shots. In this decade he is still tearing around the country and will continue to do so treading the boards, talking of cricket and anything else that takes his fancy. He loves an audience.

That zest sometimes necessitated the odd early departure from a cricket ground. Henry wrote about cricket for the Guardian regularly in the 1980s. Once at a routine county match at Chelmsford he left a little early for a pressing engagement having dutifully filed his copy, which focused upon Essexs innings of 287 and with the last sentence reading: and at the close Surrey were _ for _. Unfortunately Surrey were bowled out for 14 in the last hour. Fortunately a young Matthew Engel was on the desk and did a little more than simply add the numbers 14 and 10 to Henrys copy.

He has written for most newspapers, adjusting to fresh demands and equipment along the way. The sight of him counting the words of a piece he had written on a newly acquired laptop springs to mind. It just seemed to spoil the fun to inform him of a button called word count. But perhaps his most memorable work has been for the BBC.

I have witnessed many epic broadcasts, sometimes when there has been no cricket happening at all. In Brisbane in 1998 there was a biblical thunderstorm when Henry was on air. Suddenly his antennae were triggered. This was something exceptional and off he went on an extraordinarily vivid monologue. Within days this was compulsory listening on Pick of the Week.

His stock phrases can be easily interpreted. My dear old thing came about because he could not remember names infallibly. Watch out for youre absolutely right, which means I havent been listening to a word youve been saying for the last few minutes but its my turn now.

This lovable old rogue, who knows the game inside out, will be genuinely missed on the airwaves. Women and children were often special fans. There is still a twinkle in the eye and mischief in the voice. And if his absence is hard to bear, do not worry; the old trouper will be appearing at some theatre near you very shortly.

See the original post:

Pigeons, buses and mixing up fielders: TMS will miss Henry Blofeld - The Guardian