First published in 2015

In 1971, three years before Sir Garry Sobers played his last Test, an 18-year-old Pakistani aristocrat called Imran Khan began his decades-long quest to become the world’s next great all-rounder. Imran, a raw quick at that stage, was first out of the blocks; they blood them early in Pakistan. Stylish, sculpted, and intelligent enough to make it up to Oxford, Imran was the next-gen poster boy for a Pakistan team in just their second decade as a Test nation. Upright, upper-crust and ever classy, the teetotal Imran, on Sussex’s books, roused romantic echoes of fading English values; ironically perhaps, given a very modern animal would soon be shaking up English cricket. They called him Guy the Gorilla.

There were immediate similarities. Hair, guts, limitless charisma. Ready-made talismans. Self-doubt an inconvenience suffered by others. Egos to match their talents. But as pertinent to their similarities were the differences. Although in those early days Botham was Imran’s superior on the field, he was his antithesis off it. Here was a cricketer so drawn to the flame and yet so talented that the old boy brigade which still ran English cricket could just about stomach his off-field misdemeanours; for the working-class, he was a relatable hero in a world of aliens.

Botham edged the battle with Imran in the early years. From his debut in 1977 to the end of ‘82, there was no better cricketer in the world who didn’t don West Indies maroon. In that period, he played 58 Tests, hit 3,229 runs – including, ridiculously, 11 centuries – and claimed 262 scalps at a tick below 25. He catapulted himself to the forefront of cricket’s consciousness with perhaps the greatest individual turnaround in sporting history during the ‘81 Ashes.

Their rivalry spanned two decades, three continents and even a courtroom. The debate over who was best is futile. Ultimately, they were all the best to their own teams: Hadlee, the ageless craftsman, was the ultimate overachiever in a cricketing nation that would build itself on that very trait; Imran got better with age, inspiring the likes of Waqar, Wasim and Shoaib Akhtar and going out at the very top at the MCG in ‘92; Kapil was the first great Indian quick, proving seamers could prosper on ragged turners; Botham made cricket sexy for an entirely different class of people. And yet their greatest influence was probably on each other, for it’s difficult to imagine one being quite so good without the rest.