England v West Indies: Sir Viv Richards still makes a Test match special That was perfect for our off-spinner Robert Croft and his partner in parsimony, off-cutter Steve Barwick. Richards was positioned just in front of square, and usually a batsman can tickle a single just behind square between that man and another placed at short fine leg. Not with Viv there, they couldn't. He ran out batsmen for fun. As he said of that time as we reminisced at Trent Bridge: "I just felt I had a little bit more left in the tank." A little bit more left in the tank? He transformed a team of perennial losers into a half-decent outfit. "Winning comes from within," he said to me. We couldn't find it until Viv showed us. All credit to Tony Lewis, then Glamorgan's chairman, for signing him. But winning does not always come wrapped in serenity. With powers that are extraordinary often comes a rage to match. Viv could rage. I write as much with fear in my heart, because to write about Viv can sometimes be a risky undertaking, as James Lawton, now The Independent's chief sports writer, discovered in 1990 when Viv famously missed the start of play in the Antigua Test to climb the press box steps to remonstrate with Lawton. "Vivi is very angry, someone's going to sort you out and it may be me," he said apparently. I've seen Viv in a rage. He scares me. He scared the Kent side in 1993 when they declined to enforce a follow-on that was a no-brainer, just so that their bowlers might be rested for an unforgettable climax to the Sunday League season the following morning. You mess with the game, the game will mess you! Viv screamed into the Kent dressing room. From my position on the Canterbury balcony I could see into the Kent dressing room. There were some terrified faces in there. The King was angry. Kent had no chance the following day, as Richards joyously brought Glamorgan their first silverware for 24 years. At Lord's the first Test looked done by the start of day four. West Indies were 120 for four in their second innings, still 35 behind. Some journalists checked out of their hotel rooms that morning expecting a four-day finish. I might just have been one of them. West Indies did not lose a wicket until after lunch. By the middle of the afternoon session I was sneaking to the staircase that leads down from the Lord's press box to speak to my hotel and ask if a room might be reconsidered. Of all the people to catch me doing so was Phil Tufnell, who needs little invitation to laugh uproariously. It could have been worse. It could have been Viv. He might not have laughed. I had been disrespectful. Later that day, with England 10 for two and as rattled as a railway carriage window, Viv made it known what he thought of some people's "presumptuous" attitude in checking out early. My name was mentioned apparently. It was with great trepidation that I went to the press box on that last day. But the greeting was still the same. Viv has mellowed. But the aura has not. Quite simply the game has never seen a greater cricketer, or indeed a greater character.