Great captain - but that's not what he'll be remembered for

The death of Hansie Cronje in a plane crash early yesterday will shake the South African nation. He may have left the game disgraced, with his players dumbfounded by his dealings with bookmakers and his administrators feeling utterly betrayed by an iconic South African, who appeared to have the sporting world at his feet. Yet he was, by all accounts, retrieving key strands of his life.

In February he had taken up a new post as the financial manager of Bell Equipment, which specialises in earth-moving machinery. That he should be entrusted with such a post after his dubious involvements with the bookmakers, which led to his ostracism from cricket, raised a few eyebrows. But he had been studying for a masters degree in business and this was one way to building a new life.

He had also been reconciled with some of his old cricketing colleagues. From his teenage years onwards he had been a close friend of Allan Donald, who also hailed from Free State. Donald was stunned by the revelations of 2000, but during the current Test match at Edgbaston the pace bowler spoke movingly on BBC radio of his recent reconciliation with Cronje.

Cronje had called him up. They met and during a tearful reunion they shared the agonies of his shame. During their conversation Cronje had reiterated that he had never actually fixed a match so that South Africa would lose - a claim that his old friend accepted.

Cronje, none the less, had manipulated matches to satisfy his paymasters. For example, that the Centurion Test against England in 2000 simply could not be drawn.

The revelations about Cronje stunned the cricketing world. He was regarded as a model modern sportsman in his own country: supremely fit, a fierce competitor and capable of winning one-day games off his own bat, especially as a mighty hitter of spin bowling. He was not the first sportsman to be deluded into thinking that he was invulnerable, that he could play his games with the bookmakers and not only survive, but prosper. His sudden death is another chilling reminder that no sporting hero is untouchable. His career truly had the qualities of a Greek tragedy, in which hubris brings its own nemesis.

It could have been a glittering career. At 21 he was captaining Free State; at 24 he was leading his country as a dashing antidote to his dour predecessor, Kepler Wessels. Under his leadership South Africa were surpassed only by the Australians in Test cricket and they were arguably the best one-day side in the world, though they could never confirm that by winning the World Cup. They had their chance in England in 1999, but were finally hijacked by Steve Waugh's Australians in two memorable games at Headingley and Edgbaston. Maybe under Cronje the South Africans were just too desperate to win. Their fanatical desire created too much tension when the matches were in the balance.

He played 68 Tests for South Africa and 188 one-day internationals, but sadly few will recall him for his smooth strokeplay or resolute leadership.

Instead he will be remembered as the first, and so far solitary, cricketer to publicly acknowledge his culpability in the era of match-fixing.

In one sense he did the game a huge service, albeit unwittingly. For the fall of Cronje from superstar to pariah and the public humiliation that surrounded that episode has served as a powerful reminder to others who might be tempted to betray the game.

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