The left hand of God

Halfway down the pitch towards the right-hander, the delivery seemed innocuous. Delivered left-arm from round the wicket by Wasim Akram, it had the usual slithery speed, and was up there in length - an attempted yorker probably, but too full. It began to angle down the leg side, a low full-toss just ripe for Robert Croft, the England offspinner, to flick away to fine leg for an easy boundary. Croft planted his front foot and began the process of turning the ball away. He missed, the ball thudded into his pad, and Wasim roared his appeal. Negative, said the umpire, and we in the press box nodded knowingly: missing leg by miles.

Then came the replay, in super slow motion, and it was so astounding it left mouths gaping. For in the last 10 feet or so, the ball ceased angling down the leg side and instead swung back the other way, eluding Croft's bat by six inches. Unquestionably it would have hit middle stump, but it all happened so fast and late that it deceived the eye of everyone, not least the umpire. The single most astonishing delivery that I have witnessed failed to produce a wicket.

For nigh on two decades, Wasim Akram has been a magician with the ball. Left-arm pace bowlers have been a rarity in the game, and good ones even more so: Alan Davidson, Garry Sobers, Bill Voce maybe. But none of them, not even Sobers, could manipulate the ball with the dexterity of Wasim. That ball to Croft may have been exceptional, but it would not have been unique in his career for it seemed he could do it all the time. One such, delivered in an adrenal lime-green fury under the lights in Melbourne, ripped past the outside edge of Allan Lamb's bat and clipped his off stump - the defining moment, perhaps, of the 1992 World Cup final.

This now is his World Cup swansong, for age catches all. It is time to go. Against Australia at the Wanderers in Pakistan's 2003 World Cup opener, the flame briefly was rekindled as he sneaked an inswinger through the tentative first-ball prod of Damien Martyn, leaving himself on a hat-trick. But later, the instinct and skill that allowed him to spear his reverse-swung yorkers in deserted him. It was not, nor could we expect it to be, the Wasim of old.

But he will leave a legacy after almost an entire year of his life playing one-day internationals. Through expedience, Pakistan pace bowlers redefined what was possible, and none more so than Wasim. The memory will linger, of the bright lights, garish uniforms, and Wasim in his pumped up pomp, gold chain swinging, pit-pattering his way to the crease and letting rip. Along with Joel Garner and Shane Warne he has set the benchmark for bowling in one-day cricket. I cannot help it: he remains, through all the allegations of match-fixing and ball tampering, my favourite cricketer. I named my first dog after him and believe me it doesn't get higher than that.

Mike Selvey played three tests for England. He is currently cricket correspondent of the Guardian. This piece appeared in the March issue of Wisden Asia Cricket magazine.