ALTHOUGH it took a few days for the Jamaican police to drop the bombshell that Bob Woolmer’s death was to be the subject of a murder investigation, there were already enough suspicions around the Caribbean and the World Cup that all was not as it originally seemed from the moment his death was announced. Either way, it was a tragic end to the life of a man who dedicated that life to cricket.

The full implications will not be known until the investigation turns up something definite. In a way, the cricket world would prefer that the perpetrator or perpetrators, if identified, turn out to have no links to anyone or anything to do with the sport.

However, given the circumstances, Woolmer’s high-profile role with a team never far from controversy and rumours of a lost manuscript that might have contained its own bombshell on the matter of Asian bookmakers and match-fixing to name but two possible strands, it seems more likely that cricket will find itself embroiled in something very murky indeed and that it will be Mark Shields, the deputy chief of Jamaican police, and his colleagues who will have the task of unravelling it all. Good luck to them.

For Woolmer to be the centre of such an incident is bizarre. There is nobody I can think of who better represented the high principles of sportsmanship and behaviour that have been traditionally associated with cricket.

Realists are well aware that such a naive, schoolboyish attitude overlooks the many aspects of the way the game is played nowadays, pointing to the fact that the game has become ever more “professional” in the not so complimentary sense of the word. Of course, Woolmer’s association with the South African team led by Hansie Cronje also placed him close to the mercenary side of the game at its worst.

To have come through that with his reputation thankfully intact, only subsequently to find himself in the Pakistan dressing room when events were unfolding that led to the premature abandonment of the Oval Test match against England, must have tested him sorely.

The Bob Woolmer I came across, first in county cricket and then in some of my early Test matches which coincided with the last of his career, was simply the ultimate cricket enthusiast. That Kent team of the mid1970s were a very successful and talented side. Bob was a solid member of that team but only as a middle-order batsman who could turn his arm to bowling a number of overs of brisk medium-pace swing, only slightly encumbered by a frame already sturier than average.

For him to turn himself into an England opening batsman who would battle for hours to keep the Aussies at bay while he made his highest Test score of 149 at The Oval in 1975 was a testament to a burning ambition, a strong mind and an analytical brain that combined to allow him to make the most of his talent. He wore that England cap proudly at all times yet also managed paradoxically to let himself get sucked into the world of Kerry Packer and World Series Cricket, when one might have thought that his boy’s own mentality would have kept him firmly within the official fold. Maybe there was a strong element of pragmatism within, too.

It was when he came back from Packer that our Test match paths crossed, but we were hardly destined to become long-term teammates. In 1980 he was involved in the first two Tests of the summer against the West Indies, but my form was at a low ebb and I hardly survived the Trent Bridge Test, the first of that series. A year later he made a total of 30 runs in the opening two Tests of the Ashes series and the axe fell on his shoulders, while an 89 at Lord’s at least kept me in the side a little further into that series. It did not make for much more than a passing acquaintance.

Where I came to respect and know him more was when he turned to coaching. It was in that role that the full extent of his thinking about the game was much more apparent. With Warwickshire, South Africa and finally Pakistan he was always striving to be a step ahead of the competition, and by and large he was.

Ask any of the higher-profile men with whom he was involved and they will to a man tell of their respect for him. Unsurprisingly the tributes have flowed in from far and wide over the last few days from the likes of Allan Donald, Jonty Rhodes and many others.

Donald relied religiously on Woolmer’s ability to analyse his bowling action and the many small and essential mechanics involved in it to make sure that he, one of his generation’s great pace bowlers, was always as near to the top of his game as possible.

It meant that for Donald, Woolmer was able to be coach, motivator and confidante. With Woolmer’s longstanding South African connections it was an easy relationship to build and those years he spent coaching the South African team were probably among the more satisfying of his career.

It was always going to be a sterner challenge to take on that role for the Pakistan cricket team. It was no shock that many in Pakistan were suspicious, and indeed against the idea of an overseas coach taking charge of the national team. From the quotes emanating from the Pakistan camp in these last dark days, it seemed obvious that he had won their respect and had been a vital part of an interesting yet still turbulent time in the development of that team. Even with the likes of Mohammad Yousuf and Inzamam-ul-Haq at the core, it was always going to be a tough job to improve the form of a team always regarded as inconsistent, a trait highlighted by recent events.

At the heart of his coaching philosophy, aside from a willingness to espouse new ideas and new techniques, was the principle that he was there to help any player who was prepared to take time to listen to what he had to say.

It would normally be time well spent. I remember writing about such a moment when he as the opposition coach sought me out to talk about how I had got out that day.

Playing for Hampshire against Warwickshire at Portsmouth, on a good, pacy and bouncy pitch, I made the mistake of trying to take on Donald with the hook shot, and succeeded at about the second attempt in finding long leg’s hands. It was not a percentage shot and I knew it, Donald knew it and Bob knew it.

He was coach of Warwickshire, so theoretically it was not his problem but he came to me anyway to talk about it, as I imagine he would have done had I been one of his players. In a way I did not want to know. It was a time when I was facing a few of my own demons and I liked to feel, wrongly I might add, that I was strong enough to sort them out for myself.

The truth of it is that he was right and he came to me as a friend and an Englishman, keen to see me play at my best. The truth is also that even the best players in the world can do with high-quality advice and analysis — it just has to be delivered properly and with an understanding of the individual.

It is all about improvement; a player might already be successful but can he be more successful? The answer is almost always yes. It all comes down to the ambition of the man and the ability of the coach to help develop and realise that ambition.