Few sights in the history of cricket have been more thrilling – or more terrifying for batsmen – than the great West Indian fast bowler Wes Hall coming in off his 30-yard run. He is now Sir Wesley, and frail at 85, but still as forthright and impressive as ever. I was privileged to be able to speak to Sir Wesley the other day (for the Oborne & Heller on Cricket podcast) and it was as thrilling as watching him play in the 1960s when I was growing up.

He is a glorious figure, a man of adamantine integrity, total sportsmanship and unbreakable moral values, and a reminder, like Frank Worrell and Clyde Walcott, of a golden age of the great traditions of cricket culture. He is a standing reproach to much of modern cricket – though not all – for its lack of standards, its greed and sometimes venality. He is as loquacious and warm as ever, and very funny: after entering Barbados politics he observed: ‘You think my run-up was long? You should hear my speeches.’

As a boy, and with a forceful and inspirational mother, he was determined to get into the outstanding Combermere School in Barbados, a nursery of great cricketing talents from Worrell onwards. He reckoned that much of his superhuman fitness and ability to bowl endless spells at full speed came from having to walk seven miles to and from school every day. He was first picked for the West Indies tour of England in 1957, aged 19, though he was passed over for all the Tests. So this is what he did: he went sightseeing round Britain, and loved it… from the Yorkshire Moors to the Tower of London and all the castles and cathedrals in between. It seems a far cry from the cocooned life of so many modern sports people.

The recent two-Test series bet-ween the West Indies and Australia may have just ended, but it wasn’t always on that small scale. Sir Wesley recalled in extraordinary detail one of the greatest Test series of all time, between the two countries in 1960-61, and one of the greatest matches ever, the tied Test in Brisbane in December. Australia needed just 233 to win and had more than five hours to get them.

Sir Wesley was in his pomp and went through the top order quickly: Bobby Simpson, Neil Harvey, Norman O’Neill all perished cheaply. When it came to the last eight-ball over, Australia needed just six runs with three wickets left. He had already bowled 17 overs, and now there were eight balls to decide the Test. After a couple of runs and a wicket, five were needed from five balls. After a failed runout and a dropped catch, the scores were tied with a couple of balls to go. ‘Frank Worrell [the captain] said that if I bowled a no-ball I would never be let back into Barbados.’ He didn’t, there was another runout, and history was made. Sir Wesley can recall each ball in detail and listening to him it is almost like being back at the ground with him.

Sir Wesley was at his most moving when he talked about his return to Accrington, when the Daily Mail brought him back to the little Lancashire mill town where he played as the visiting pro for three years in the early 1960s. He recalled meeting some of his former teammates and spoke sadly of visiting his old opening bowling partner, now crippled by dementia.

He must have been an extraordinary sight: the powerfully built young man, 6ft 5in, crucifix swinging around his neck, coming off his long run in the enclosed little ground. They could all remember him – and no wonder. He recalled what it was like being a rare black face in a small white town more than 60 years ago. One young boy shouted out: ‘Mum, there’s a black man in the street.’ Sir Wesley gently told him that though Blackman was a common name in his homeland of Barbados, he was actually called Wesley Hall, he was the new professional at the club, and would the youngster like to join him up there? He did, and under Sir Wes’s friendship and mentoring became a promising young player. You feel that is the way to do it.

For Sir Wesley, cricket was a way of trying to present himself as a good human being. But we shouldn’t be too keen to condemn the sports stars of today who are often simply trying to keep up with other stars in the entertainment business. No one bats an eyelid at Adele picking up a million bucks a night in Las Vegas, but we get in a terrible lather about Cristiano Ronaldo pulling in half a million quid a week. Sport and society are not the same as in the 1960s, and the millions that some sportsmen and women earn today don’t make them bad people. Look at the Liverpool captain and England football stalwart Jordan Henderson, a multimillionaire but a thoroughly good bloke and an inspiration all round. Or indeed Ben Stokes, arguably England’s best cricket captain ever.

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