The overwhelming show of emotion and sorrow following the announcement of Graham Thorpe’s passing highlights the depth of affection felt for him.
While “love” may seem like a cliché in sports, I use it intentionally because this is precisely how his teammates from Surrey and England regarded him—beyond respect and admiration.
Within the England squad during the 1990s and early 2000s, he was my closest friend, someone with whom I felt entirely at ease. I loved him. We all did. I enjoyed leading him, as he embodied everything that both I and coach Duncan Fletcher desired for our England team.
When we first teamed up as captain and coach in 1999, we talked about revising our selection process to place more significance on character.
I asked Darren Gough what qualities he looked for in a teammate. He glanced at Thorpe and responded, “When I sit here on the physio bed and see others go out to bat, I occasionally notice fear in their eyes. But with him, I know he’s ready to fight.”
Graham Thorpe, left, was there for me during his highest and lowest points in my career
Former England cricketer Thorpe (pictured above) died on Monday at the age of 55
I loved being Thorpe’s captain and he epitomised everything I and the coach Duncan Fletcher wanted in our England team
I noticed his determination when crossing paths either on our way out or as he awaited his turn at the crease. He would diligently fight for every run and would never yield.
Later on, I affectionately nicknamed him the “little genius,” but it was his indomitable spirit that resonated most with the fans who supported us during our challenging times around the turn of the century.
His attitude seemed to convey to the opposition: ‘You might have bested us before, you may do so again in the future. But not today.’
I felt entirely at ease around him off the field, often spending hours in his hotel room, modifying our bat grips and discussing cricket strategies.
It can’t be mere coincidence that the person I found most comforting was with me during all my crowning achievements. When I scored my career-best 207 against Australia at Edgbaston in 1997, he was at the other end with a score of 138. We celebrated a stunning Test victory in Karachi in 2000, and he was at the non-striker’s end for my final shot as an England player—a cover drive for four against New Zealand at Lord’s in 2004.
He was also my rock during my lowest points, whether I doubted my abilities as a player, as a captain, or contemplated giving it all up. He was always there—ready to comfort me, provide perspective, or offer tough love when needed.
As a player, Thorpe is widely considered as one of English cricket’s finest ever middle order batsmen – pictured playing against New Zealand in Christchurch in 2002
Thorpe also served as England’s batting coach, but was sacked back in 2022
In September 2017, Thorpe was presented with a silver cap to commemorate his 100 Tests
During my final match against New Zealand, he walked in to bat right after I had run out Andrew Strauss, who was on the verge of what would have been a second Test century in a brilliant debut performance.
Noticing my frustration, Thorpey simply said, “Nas, get over it,” and added some choice words for added effect, “We have a Test match to win.”
That snapped me back into focus. I was reminded of the game at hand.
Many teammates have likely had similar experiences. Although Thorpey was usually quiet during team discussions, if you needed someone, he was always approachable; his door was always open at 10 p.m.
A casual chat over a glass of red wine always helped clarify things. He would provide clarity on cricket, life, and everything in between. I lost count of how many times I came out of those conversations feeling rejuvenated.
He was wonderfully rebellious, often resisting conformity. For instance, when we attended official events demanding proper attire, he’d show up in grey trousers instead of the required black.
Eventually, I had to bring him into the fold regarding dress norms—making him responsible for our dress code. If he was establishing the rules, he wasn’t the one breaking them.
A memorable moment came during the chaotic 1999 World Cup when he became overwhelmed with numerous pre-tournament events and contract discussions.
The left-hander, pictured here playing against Pakistan in 2000, was a key man for years
If you went knocking on Thorpe’s door at 10 o’clock at night — and it was always open — you would wander in and he would sort you out
On the night before the first game at Canterbury, I excitedly jumped off one of the twin beds, anticipating another function, urging Thorpe to join me.
He simply replied, “Nass, I’m not going. I’m here to play cricket. I need to focus on scoring runs in this World Cup.” I then had to relay the message to coach David Lloyd and team manager Graham Gooch. But that was Thorpe. If he felt it wouldn’t enhance his game, he would skip it. I respected that.
This strong mindset contributed to some impressive victories.
His debut against Australia at Trent Bridge in 1993 coincided with my own return after a three-year absence, and we immediately hit it off. I was there to witness him secure a second-innings century, marking the first of his 16 Test centuries and maintaining an impressive average of 44.66.
I honestly don’t recall us ever having a falling out. We certainly never did. Although I did once express my frustration in the dressing room for a tactical reason while on the 2000-01 tour of Pakistan, following a dropped slip catch he made just before stumps in a warm-up match.
He laughed it off, so later, when everyone was packing to leave, I called him out. Why? I wanted the rest of the team to see it. They needed to know how close I was to Thorpey—if I could get on his case, they would understand that no player was exempt from coaching criticism.
It sent a clear signal that dropping catches, regardless of situation, along with a casual attitude, was unacceptable and emphasized that attention to detail mattered, whether you were my best mate or a newcomer.
The consequences were significant enough that Fletcher later pulled Michael Atherton aside, concerned there had been a massive fallout between Thorpey and me.
We perfectly complemented each other. My complicated nature on the field required calming influence, and Thorpey provided that sense of ease and reduced the pressure on me.
Often, there’s a lot of fluff about team dynamics—are they clapping on the balcony? But true camaraderie is felt when you step onto the field knowing that it’s a joint venture against the likes of Australia, West Indies, or South Africa. Thorpey was a stabilizing presence on such occasions.
Thorpe’s attitude drove us to victories we wouldn’t otherwise have achieved
Thorpe – who was awarded an MBE in 2007 – was there for everyone. And that was the anomaly
He had an extraordinary talent for making you feel embraced. When he was coaching, I was invited to celebrate a victory with the England team in Cape Town by Joe Root. Hesitantly, I joined as a commentator. But Thorpey pulled me in and gave me an unexpectedly large, boisterous kiss. He had a remarkable knack for making everyone feel comfortable.
I’m not the only one with these memories. Numerous others—like Dominic Cork, Phil Tufnell, Atherton, Mark Butcher—share similar sentiments. Many of his former teammates are in pain right now because whether they played for Surrey or England, they felt a deep connection with this “little genius.” He was an exceptional player on the field and a delightful companion off it.
He was a support to everyone, which was rather unique. In official team settings, he might have seemed detached, but his insight often came through on the field or during private conversations.
Two of England’s greats, Joe Root and Ben Stokes, can attest to having undergone the Thorpe experience. However, I hesitate to call it merely a coaching experience; rather, he instilled the balance necessary to thrive as top-tier international cricketers.
That mastery wasn’t always realized in his own career. While players like Alec Stewart and Atherton could compartmentalize their off-field issues, Graham found it challenging.
When facing personal struggles, whether it was a complicated separation or dealing with a significant back injury, he found it tough. At times, he’d reach out to say, “Nass, I can’t make this tour. I’m not in the right place.” Once I knew he wasn’t in a good spot, I respected his decision to step back.
Some individuals can push personal matters aside, while others cannot. He undoubtedly should have played more than 100 Tests. However, nothing can overshadow his talent as a cricketer. What distinguished him was his adaptability.
He delivered one of the quickest double centuries in Christchurch to secure victory for us against New Zealand in 2002, while also crafting one of the slowest centuries in Lahore—a painstaking 256 balls with just one strike to the boundary—laying the groundwork for a series win against Pakistan.
When it came to his off-field problems, whether it be a difficult marriage break-up or the serious back injury he battled, he struggled
Thorpe was open about the struggles he faced when he split from his wife Nicky (left)
Modern cricketers often say, “That’s how I play.” However, Thorpe’s style was adaptable; a chameleon at the crease, he adjusted according to the situation he confronted.
He has been referred to as nuggety; however, I could show you moments where he took on some of the fastest bowlers globally—his prowess was anything but nuggety. Some of his shots were reminiscent of Brian Lara’s flair, while his cuts and pulls showcased a Caribbean finesse.
Throughout his career, he took on legendary pairings such as Allan Donald and Shaun Pollock, Curtly Ambrose and Courtney Walsh, striking with his characteristic knee lift to pull them away.
Of course, there was also grit in his game. He could occupy the crease for hours, building a foundation while exhausting the opposition. But his versatility shouldn’t be viewed negatively—don’t undervalue it; this was his brilliance.
His preparation was rigorous, too. Prior to our momentous victory in Sri Lanka 23 years ago, he entered the nets in Colombo, scuffing the pitch with his spikes, knowing our spinners wouldn’t turn the ball like the legendary Muttiah Muralitharan.
He sought challenging practice because he recognized that any situation faced in a Test would be demanding. His approach was methodical; he wasn’t merely gifted but worked extraordinarily hard and maintained peak fitness.
Thorpe and Joe Root, right, after England’s stunning World Cup final victory over New Zealand at Lord’s back in 2019
Thorpe took over as Afghanistan head coach following his England departure before falling ill
In matches, his precision was undeniable. Sri Lanka failed to dismiss him in both innings, and he persevered through cramp to finish strong.
He inspired a whole generation of young cricketers who aspired to emulate his playing style.
Many began playing cricket because of Graham Thorpe. They donned Fila headbands, wielded Kookaburra bats to replicate his style, and having stood just 22 yards from him, I fully understand why. Rest in peace, my friend. You will be sorely missed.
