Geoffrey Boycott turned himself from a good player to a great player through his sheer force of will and determination, and whatever anybody says about him as a bloke or otherwise, nothing can cover up the fact that he made himself not just the best that he could be, but one of the best that England ever had.

For me ‘Boycs’ was never what I would call a natural player, but he was determined to be a top-class player and worked extremely hard to get there. In fact he worked harder than any person I’ve ever seen at his game.

I used to say to him, ‘’Geoffrey, you just go into those nets for hour after hour to play all your shots and get them out of the way so you can go out to the middle and survive for the day." He was so dogged when it came to batting, but his record is amazing and he did it against everybody, too.

He also scored a hundred in a one-day final at Lord’s, so he had the ability to score runs at a pace – he just rarely showed it. In the final of the World Cup that we played against the West Indies at Lord’s in 1979 he and Mike Brearley opened the innings, putting on a hundred partnership in 30 overs. It took him 17 overs just to reach double figures. It meant when I went into bat we needed 17.5 an over, which was just a little bit out of even my reach.

Geoffrey, for me, was an old-style Test-match cricketer who would go out there to survive and not give his wicket away for all the tea in China. He never let someone just have his wicket. If you got Geoffrey Boycott out as a bowler you knew you’d earned it because he was the most cussed man at the crease.

Don’t get me wrong, he could certainly play and had one or two shots in the locker, but what I admired about him was his ability to concentrate on what he was doing and have the self-restraint to bat for such long periods of time without being frivolous with his wicket. For me, it didn’t look like it came that easily to him; he really had to work at being the player he was and it paid off for him.

Boycs is an English cricket hero and if you see the way he is revered in India you’ll understand just how good a player he was, but along with that came a character that could infuriate just as much. There is a funny, but true story about Boycs, who had done something to upset his captain at Yorkshire, Brian Close. They were both sitting in the old Bradford dressing room and ‘Closey’ had just had enough of him so he stood up over Boycs, picked him up and just hung him on the dressing-room pegs with his feet dangling down as his shirt held him up.

Boycs and I have enjoyed many ups and downs over the course of our friendship because at times he could annoy the hell out of you, but at times you could see another side to him. And I think over the past few years, following his cancer scare, the man I know as ‘Fiery’ has mellowed a little.

Just a little, though, and I’m delighted to see him back being his old cantankerous self these days.

Hearing that he had throat cancer in 2002 came as quite a shock to him and to those of us who knew him, because of all the people in the world to have a form of cancer you never expected it to be him. He used to look after himself so well. But he took it on with the same burning determination that he dealt with cricket and it came as no surprise to see him win that battle as well and get the all-clear six years after being diagnosed.

Some people said that he was a selfish cricketer who only looked out for No 1 rather than the team, but I don’t think that was quite right. I think that he had a style of play that more often than not paid off handsomely for the team. That was the job he was picked to do and he did it with astonishing regularity.

If Geoff Boycott offered more shots than a bartender for Yorkshire and then shut up shop for England then people might have a point, but he did the same things and played the same way whenever he walked to the crease and he was a valuable asset for any team to have.

He had his moments, but I generally got on well with him even though I used to fool around with him all the time. I used to play silly jokes on him, like hiding his kit and tying his shoelaces together. He’d have a bit of a sulk and a rant and then he’d be back to himself again. Perhaps the worst ‘joke’ I played on him was when I ran him out in 1978 in New Zealand at the behest of Bob Willis. He was gumming up the works and something had to be done – I think my standing in the team took a bit of a step up after doing that, since I was a relative rookie in the side and still trying to prove myself.

A lot of water has passed under the bridge since then, and I suppose I should thank him for giving me the chance to impress a few team-mates, even if it was at his expense. To my mind he was the perfect man to have at the top of the batting order. So utterly determined not to give his wicket away, he really protected the rest of the batting line-up from having to deal with the new ball. In Geoffrey Boycott’s case determination was not just a trait, it was part of his fibre.

Your real ability as a sportsman and as a person shines through when life gets hard and you’re out of nick, the team is faltering and the public is no longer on your side. It is those situations for which David Beckham was born.

If ever there was a sporting hero who could write the book about coming back from disappointment, it would be him. His incredible career has been filled with so much success, yet it has been slapped about with huge collective and personal failure. On the surface it would be easy to say that he has led a charmed life and that things have fallen into his lap; the real truth, from where I’m standing, is that David’s career in football is a story of always coming back for more, and equally one of redemption, too.

The real blow came in 1998, when he was handled pretty poorly by Glenn Hoddle, the then England manager. Then came the nightmare: his petulant kick at Diego Simeone got him sent off as England crashed out of the tournament.

It is hard to remember just how bad he was made to feel for that mistake, but he became the most hated man in Britain.

This is where he earned my total respect. He faced up to his tormentors and began playing again for United, letting his performances do the talking. He didn’t hide or cower in the face of adversity.

I played nearly all my cricketing life with David Gower and he was without doubt the most elegant and skilful batsman I ever played with. He is a man I admire for so many reasons both on and off the field, but his batting ability left me breathless and in awe every time he walked to the crease.

Despite my preference to watch anything but cricket while I was waiting to go in to bat, David was the exception that proved the rule – I would happily watch him bat anywhere and at any time.

David. or ‘Lubo’ as he’s known, after an Adelaide steakhouse that he fell in love with, was an enormous talent and so relaxed with it. If he was any more laid-back he’d be horizontal. I can’t think of anyone who has played the game who has been more laid-back about things. Chris Gayle springs to mind with his laconic West Indian swagger, but I don’t think anyone else comes close to David when it comes to being languid on the cricket field.

Very little seemed to fluster him or get him upset; however, he did have a blue touchpaper as well and I’ve seen him go off on a few occasions – such as when I got out against the Australians in 1989 with an impetuous hoick.