As Andrew Flintoff Looks to the Future, So Do England

Andrew Flintoff pitched up late again yesterday. But this time it was not his fault that he failed to make his 12.30 appointment with the print media.

So many cameras and microphones had been pushed in his face in the gardens at the back of the great red brick pavilion at Lord's, where gusts of wind made the trees rustle with the epic news, that he was never going to get round to everyone in time following the announcement of his decision to retire from Test cricket.

When he did appear, looking slightly too big for the confines of the MCC museum, he was quiet and sombre – in contrast to his polished and jokey performance at an Andrew Strauss benefit function the evening before.

Yesterday was hardly a time for celebration. For a giant has fallen from Test cricket – or will do at the end of this series, although given the fact he has a body marginally more fragile than a piece of Spode china it would be surprising if he comes through the next four Ashes Tests without another piece falling off.

His mood was a combination of resignation and sadness. But there was relief there, too. "My body is telling me it's time to give in," he shrugged. "For my own sanity I can't keep going through rehabilitation; I think I've done two years in the past four, just rehab all the way through."

But even in this moment of defeat he remained bullish. He wanted to play not only in the next World Cup, in 2011, but in the one after that. His best years might be ahead of him, he tried to tell us. The forlornness in his eyes told another story. But this is such a brave and committed cricketer, no one contradicted him.

Flintoff is, and always will be, the people's champion, though he has not been the England team's champion for some time. The figures are trotted out every time cricket chatter turns to Freddie, which is often enough: he has not scored a century or taken a five-for since the Ashes series of 2005.

He is no longer quite good enough as a batsman to play in England's top six; nor a robust enough specimen to figure in a four-man bowling attack. There is now a sense that the rest of the team have to fit in around him, as they didn't have to before.

Even the Reduced Andrew Flintoff Company is an asset to this England side. He remains, when fit, the team's enforcer with the ball and England's most dependable bowler in terms of run-restriction.

And even though his batting is not quite what it was, he is always capable of violent cameos down the order. And there is also the hope, that lingering, persistent yearning, that he might be capable of something more than that, another great destructive innings.

When he first played for England in 1998, it seemed the long search for the new Ian Botham might be at an end. For a while Flintoff even beguiled us into thinking that he might become even better than Beefy, for he bowled faster and hit an even longer ball.

And, at his best, as he was four years ago, he was absolutely massive, a player who could change matches almost by the power of his personality. The way he brought life back to slumbering spectators was an asset in itself.

He may not be remembered as one of the truly great cricketers – only consistency over a considerable period can bestow that mysterious accolade – but he will go down as a very important one, a dramatic one, and a player who seized the imagination of the crowd.

England now face the problem of how to replace him, as well as the immediate headache of the circus that will continue over the next few weeks. In a sense they never will replace him, even if Stuart Broad rises to the challenge in the years ahead.

That is why there was almost a sense of bereavement here yesterday. Everyone knew this was going to happen, and happen soon. But there was shock nevertheless. And at the end of it all, even by the pavilion trees stood still like mourners.