Over and out

He has become a national institution, as much a sign of the English summer as strawberries and cream and the sound of willow against leather. Forever fretful and twitching, he is one of the most professional men in sport and one of the funniest.

Throughout his 24 years as a cricket umpire, which have seen him officiate in 91 one-day internationals and 65 Test matches, his white cap and thigh- length coat have become his instantly recognisable trademark. But this week he will finally be giving himself out.

Harold Dennis Bird, known throughout the world as Dickie, will umpire for the last time at international level at the second Test match between England and India, which starts this Thursday at Lord's. Whatever the result, you can be guaranteed that, when he draws stumps for the final time, 63-year-old Dickie will receive one of the most heart-warming tributes ever witnessed at the home of cricket from a capacity crowd.

The reasons are many. Respected worldwide, bachelor Dickie has given his life to the game. As he says: "I've only ever been married to cricket." Women discovered this to their cost, including one who, asking what Dickie really wanted, was told: "Leg and middle, please."

His 17th-century cottage, outside Barnsley, is a shrine to his sport and career, with everything from photos to stumps, bats to balls, hanging on the walls or cluttering the corners.

But it is perhaps the host of anecdotes, often at his own expense, that has endeared so many people to Dickie Bird. He never needs much of a nudge to tell them again and, no matter how many times you have heard them, they still remain wonderfully funny.

Take, for example, the day in 1990, exactly four years after she had awarded him the MBE, when the Queen invited Dickie to lunch. "I'd been warned against eating the grapes because they had to be cut with scissors," he says. "As a result, I thought about those grapes all week. At lunch the Queen asked me if I wanted some, so I couldn't refuse. I went to cut the grapes and, of course, they all spilled over the floor. She told me: 'Don't worry, Dickie, the corgis will have them.' And they did. I was terribly nervous after that."

Dickie worries (or "witters" as he puts it) to the extent that he arrives four hours before the start of a Test match and, in the case of the day John Major invited him for lunch, three hours before that. "The security man told the Prime Minister I'd arrived and he said: 'Well, if it's Dickie, send him through. I sat there with him for two and a half hours talking cricket."

Dickie's former Barnsley Cricket Club colleague, Geoffrey Boycott, also laid on a lunch for him. Dickie will tell you that he is one of his all- time favourite players and served him a toasted sandwich for the meal. "I keep reading how I had to leap over his fence to get in, but I don't remember that."

Other players chose to play practical tricks on the hapless man in white. Allan Lamb, the perennial thorn in his side, shook hands with Dickie at the end of a match at Old Trafford and wished him a pleasant trip home. "When I got to my car, all the wheels were missing and there was a message on my windscreen: 'Have a good journey home, Dickie.'

Perhaps the funniest anecdote of all is the one he likes to tell the most. Once again it involves Lamb, this time with Ian Botham, two characters whom he feels the game desperately needs today. Dickie stands up in his living room at this point in order to act out the incident.

Lamb walked into bat during a Test match and handed Dickie a portable phone. "What's this?" asked Dickie. "A phone," replied Lamb. "What am I supposed to do with this?" asked the umpire. "Take calls," said the player.

The thought of the phone ringing while he was standing out there in the middle rapidly turned Dickie into his familiar, slightly barmy, state. He rubbed his jaw, twitched and jerked his arms. Sure enough, the phone rang.

"Umpire Bird here," said Dickie. "Tell that bloody man Lamb to get a move on," said the voice of Ian Botham from inside the pavilion.

He shakes his head, before repeating how much he is going to miss the game. When you ask him for his favourite players, he answers: "Gary Sobers was the master, as an all-rounder and as a batsman. Dennis Lillee was my favourite bowler. Viv Richards was another great batsman and fielder. As for umpires, I've liked working with them all."

They will all recognise the end of an era when Dickie halts proceedings at Lord's, although it is not quite the end. Dickie has one more season with the county game before hanging up his cap. But what will happen then?

"I don't know. I'll try and keep myself involved in the game, because if I just sit in my armchair I'll be dead within 12 months." There is, though, his autobiography, for which he has reportedly received an advance of pounds 100,000.

There is not much danger of his disappearing from cricket completely. Players and friends will ensure that Dickie Bird remains a permanent fixture. Somebody is guaranteed to slap a preservation order on him.

'OWZAT, DICKIE . . .

"His departure will rob the game of a great showman." TIMES LEADER

"There has never been any hatred in him and everyone loves him." RAY ILLINGWORTH

"He's one of the most respected umpires throughout the world." MIKE GATTING

"There is nothing to dislike about Dickie Bird - he is a superb human being . . .

Give Dickie a light meter, low cloud and a light drizzle, and no one, not even the Greeks, could concoct more drama and tragedy." MICHAEL PARKINSON

"He likes people to think he's an easy touch but he's not. Deep down, he's quite strong and very fair." GEOFF BOYCOTT

"Tears will stop play when Dickie Bird takes his leave this month." TIM DE LISLE, EDITOR, WISDEN'S CRICKET MONTHLY

"The best and fairest of all umpires. Completely bonkers."

IAN BOTHAM

Copyright 1996 MGN LTD
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