#didn't get to cover the fact jimmy took care of everything for him for years without once complaining or making chuck feel guilty about it. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sugarkillsall · 2 years

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whoops some Better Call Saul thoughts about Chuck I gotta write out, I can't stop thinking about this guy. Note im halfway thru season 4 rn so some spoilers for those who aren't caught up like meee

I find Chuck to be a fascinating character. I think in a lot of ways he's far worse than Jimmy. Like, Jimmy absolutely isn't innocent and has done a lot of harm to his brother but Chuck feels far more malicious and cruel all under the guise of being "morally just" in his actions. In a funny comparison, he reminds me a lot of Michael Bluth from Arrested Development, acting like he's the only moral one when he's just as shitty and selfish as the rest of his family but Chuck is just so much more hurtful.

It's very clear that Chuck has had beef with just the concept of Jimmy since he was born. He's the classic older brother jealous of the attention his baby brother gets and he never got over it. A notable event to me is when their mother dies calling for Jimmy, he doesn't tell him and I don't believe for a second it was out of kindness to the fact it would have hurt him that he wasn't there. He didn't tell him out of pure spite. Here he was when Jimmy wasn't (which you can not blame him for, he could not have known) and he sees this as his family still prioritizing Jimmy over him. He is selfish and he doesn't see it that way.

Like, This fucking guy really defined what his brother was at a young age and then just decided that's what he was for the rest of his life. How fucked up is that? to your own brother?? He actively worked against Jimmy in secret!!!! because whatever Jimmy did to better himself wasn't good enough for him. and all the while he acts high and mighty b/c he's the "proper" lawyer, he's passionate about morals and justice. Ignoring the fact that actually law and so called court justice is horribly flawed and often contributes to more pain and misery in the world. I feel he's willingly naïve in that way, would rather blindly trust a broken system than confront its faults.

It's no wonder he develops his electro sensitivity, he needs an reason to explain why he feels so shitty. It cant be healthy to have that much family conflict go unspoken for years. He's so self-absorbed he can't confront his inner turmoil without looking for an outside source. It can't ever be him, it has to be something else that he can control. It's honestly sad like, everyone enabled him years b/c that is such a difficult thing to confront. I don't fault them, but also he would never get better b/c of it. His pain is real but he's also the source of his own pain. He avoided people who could really help him and in the end his final spoken words to his own brother is "you never really mattered all that much to me" and I think he meant it. I'm sure on some level his final letter has truth, that Jimmy is his family at the end of the day but not once are we ever shown that they were ever particularly close beyond when they were very young. Chuck decided that Jimmy was unredeemable early on and never let go and that absolutely fucked their relationship without Jimmy ever realizing.

Anyway that's my Chuck thoughts. I love him, I hate him, he's an excellent complex character and I will miss him.

#better call saul #i love me some cmplex brother draaaammaaaaaa #feeds my soooooulllll #didn't get to cover the fact jimmy took care of everything for him for years without once complaining or making chuck feel guilty about it.#Jimmy is the one who actually cared #not this guy!!!#this is probably not the best structured thoughts but fuck it #its thoughts and i want them outta my head lol

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rixxy8173571m3w1p3 · 6 years

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September Song (2/3)

I’m sorry @kitten-wrath that this took so long, but I do hope you like it. @hoodoo12 @xerxezra thanks for brainstorming with me. Also, Ice Cream Rick belongs @porkchop-ao3. References to the flowers can be found here (The Language Of Flowers) and pizza rolls here (Sick Day)

Also, special thanks go to @her-victori for reading a majority of my fics in a short span of time. You Rock! As well to random anons who leave me sweet words in my ask box.

If you haven't read the first part of this fic then here's the link. (Read Part1 Here)

In this fic the reader tries to be more reserved and mature for Rick, but what will he think?

______

Chapter 2: These Precious Days

The mom and pop ice cream parlor which could be found at the edge of town offered over twenty flavors and twice as many topping options. Rick thought you'd prefer this quiet atmosphere over the crowd that would've surrounded Ice Cream Ricks truck in the Citadel; he was right. Though it really was a shame since Ice Cream Rick was actually pretty nice. After ordering, you two sat by the window with the best view of a lonely backroad and a white GMC truck.

“I-I-I like that you went for the rainbow jimmies.” Rick commented as he popped a mini gummy bear into his mouth.

“Hmm? Yeah, I like the texture.”

Which was true, but it wasn't the whole truth. You loved sprinkles on just about any dessert they could be placed on. They were fun, colorful, and your dad's favorite topping. They reminded you of good times. You continued. “And they're a classic. Wouldn't you agree?”

“I-I do. Would you say that y-your favorite flavor?”

Savoring the flavor of your chocolate ice cream, you nodded. “Yeah.”

Smiling softly, he seemed to be ruminating on this information, before storing it away and eating a spoonful of his pistachio ice cream. After a little while, he managed to get a bit of it on the side of his mouth, which made you giggle. And because old habits die hard, you picked up a napkin and wiped his face clean. Under your fingertips, his skin had that masculine roughness that came from constant shaving. Of course, you were familiar with it, but these slight reminders that came about by chance never failed to amaze you.

However, you were quick to pull your hand back because he wasn't a fan of public displays of affection, though it seemed to have the opposite effect, with him reaching out and placing your hand back on his cheek, and leaning into it. “I'm glad y-you were able to come with me today.”

Seeing as the shop owner was in the back room, you relaxed a little. “I am too.”

Rick was always a little funny when he got sentimental, which was why it didn't surprise you too much when his eyes bore through you as he said. “Me encanta estar c-contigo.”

“Rick,” you began, wanting to let this facade go and declare every single word of affection your heart felt inclined to say, but just as soon as you thought you were going to crack, you restrained yourself, and simply said. “your ice cream is going to melt.”

Several beats of silence passed, and he acknowledged what you had said, but he went on. “You - I-I sometimes wish I could carry you in my pocket, and have you look after me all the time, but th-that's silly isn't it? It's not realistic, and that w-would be selfish.”

“If it's you, then I don't think it is. While it wouldn't necessarily be practical to miniaturize me and carry me around, isn't the beauty of a relationship knowing that you're always on someone's mind and that they are out there somewhere caring and thinking about you?”

“Certainly, but what I-I meant to say is that it'd be nice if this was our life. If I could keep y-you and if you and me ugh - all th-the time…we - if we….” he faltered, fixing his eyes on something else in the room.

“You don't mean eating ice cream do you?”

With a sigh, he relinquished the hold he had on your hand, “N-no.” and continued to eat his ice cream; resigned, and slightly embarrassed. You couldn't help but feel a slight disappointment. It's not like he wanted to say the magic words. Right?

________

After ice cream, you two visited the bookstore on the corner of Kinder St and Lavue Ave; which had not only a coffee shop but a toy store connected to it. As soon as one entered into it, you were met with the latest best sellers, books on travel and wellness, as well as souvenirs; it was one of few places that didn't bother you if it was cramped. To your left next to the window were those mint boxes which said Adventure Awaits, and it filled you with gladness as picked one up; thinking of little things you'd put in it after all the mints were gone. For his part, Zeta-7 seemed to know exactly what he was going for, disappearing in the back where all the used books were. Not knowing whether to follow or look around, you just did as you pleased.

Past the Keychain holder, above the box of mini hands, you found a Mister Rogers mug. You loved that wholesome old man who used to teach lessons and play with puppets on PBS; Rick reminded you of him too. On the label, it said that when you added hot water to the mug, Mister Rogers would change from a suit jacket into his cardigan. Seeing as Zeta-7 hadn't returned yet, you decided to buy it and continued to look around until he soon returned with an older book in hand. “I-I-I hope I hadn't kept you waiting long.”

Facing the bookshelf, pulling out books that you were mildly interested in, you answered. “I knew you would show up eventually.”

Noticing the stack of books you had, he asked sweetly. “M-m-mi corazón, do you want me t-to hold those books for you? They look a-a little heavy.”

You weren't sure how long you could keep up this facade of being mature and not melting into a puddle everytime he said things like that, with him being as darling as he was. Nonetheless, you nodded and he lightened the burden on your arms.

“Wow,” he brightened. “I-I didn't know you liked Alexandre Dumas.” And picking out another book, he wondered. “Have y-you ever read this?”

“The Man In the Iron Mask? No,” you admitted sadly. “but when I was in high school I did read about a third of The Count of Monte Cristo. I even have a postcard that my old English teacher sent me from Europe that had a picture of one of the buildings that was used in the movie.”

“That's s-s-so cool. Do - do you enjoy classic literature?”

Wholeheartedly, you replied. “Isn't it the best kind?”

“I-I-I don't know,” he softened. “but I don't know what I'd do without them.”

You thought of his home library then, with its eclectic mixture of languages, colors, and topics, and it made you feel warm in your soul. “If your home library tells me anything, it's that you have a healthy appetite for books.”

He glanced at your lips after you said this, but made no attempt to follow whatever thought which might've come to mind. Instead, you two carried on a lengthy discussion on books, how many were a social commentary of the time period, and how they influenced the world you lived in. For once you didn't have to pretend you knew something you didn't, cause you did know. Quite intimately in fact. And within the small spaces between shelves and bodies, where you'd normally feel claustrophobic, you were safe amongst all the friends you had yet to meet amongst the pages, and with Zeta-7 whose warm words and tall body shielded you from the curious eyes of the cashier.

_______________

A stack of books sat quietly in the back seat of his car. Crickets chirped, and there were random feral cats here and there, but there was only you and him as far as you were concerned. September Song by Willie Nelson played on the car radio as he led you into a natural waltz next to the town lake, and moonlight reflected in his eyes. If you hadn't been so afraid of drowning, maybe you would've preferred to dance on the dock, but like this, it felt right.

Oh, it's a long long while

From May to December

But the days grow short

When you reach September

When the autumn weather

Turns leaves to flame

One hasn't got time

For the waiting game

With your head resting on his chest, he hummed along to the melody. More than once you heard a sniffle but assumed it was just Zeta-7 caught up in the moment again.

Oh the days dwindle down

To a precious few. ..

September, November. ..

And these few precious days

I'll spend with you.

These precious days

I'll spend with you.

You thought every day spent with him was precious, and you had to admit that you weren't sure at the beginning of your relationship if it would've worked out, but you were glad that the both of you took a chance, and had been pleasantly surprised ever since. And after all this time, now that it was the fall again, you wondered what the next year and the year after that would be like; the possibilities are endless. However, your train of thought was broken when Zeta-7 stopped dancing and stood there; covering his face, wanting to disappear.

“Rick?”

“I'm - I'm sorry, but I-I-I-I can't do this.”

“Can't do what?”

“I-I-I can't pretend that everything's o-okay. Something's th-the matter isn't it?”

“No there isn't.” you denied.

“Then why are y-y-you so quiet? Are w-we breaking up? Are you - are you leaving me?”

You literally wanted to smack yourself for being such an idiot. “No! Why would you think that?”

Using his phone, he paused the music and passed a hand through his hair in an attempt to calm himself. “Y-y-you haven't been yourself all evening. I thought for a moment that maybe th-things were alright back in the bookstore, but you - I know y-you were holding back. I know how much you love books, and writing is y-y-y-your passion, but you were hesitant in sharing your opinions on either subject. M-mi corazón,” he pleaded, the lines about his forehead and mouth deepening. “please b-be honest with me. Is this it?”

“No, it's not.”

Your plan, which you thought has been working went horribly wrong. So much for trying to act like an adult for once. Man, you only wanted to entice him, which you somewhat succeeded, but because of your stupid games, you'd led him to believe that you were unsatisfied with your relationship. If anything, you were unsatisfied with how you handled this. “Believe me Ricky, you haven't done anything wrong. In fact,” you sighed, your chest aching from the bloom of anxiety. “you've only been sweet and charming. But I….oh, I was only trying to impress you.”

“Huh? Wh-what?”

“Exactly. Whatever I thought I'd accomplish, it…..I only managed to mess it up. Again. You probably wouldn't get it,” Or maybe he would, but you weren't feeling like yourself. “but sometimes I feel like all you did was pull me out of my little bubble so I could wreak havoc. I'm not any different from hundreds of other versions of me, am I? Cause, if I'm like them, then how did I end up with you? How did I get so lucky to be with someone so wonderful? I hope they are happy because I am with you.”

With a hand pressed over his heart, a single tear made its way down his cheek. “M-me too. I'm so happy with you.”

“Somehow, despite all my inadequacies, you want me. I mean, is it stupid to believe that I just wanted to be different from all those other copies? That I just wanted you to think I was mature?”

Zeta-7 looked at you with a wistful hope in his eyes.“No, it's - it's not stupid. You - you did that f-for me?”

“Who else dear honey man of mine? Maybe it can't be helped and I'll just be what I am,” you confessed. “but for a moment I wanted to be different. So I gave myself the look and didn't overreact. And most of all, kept my mouth shut so you wouldn't get bored of my rambling. I know I talk too much.”

“N-no, that's not - have I led you t-to believe you weren't good enough?”

“Not on purpose, but I can't help but feel that way sometimes. We both know I'm not that special. I mean, the only impressive thing I've ever done is eat 37 pizza rolls, and not kill the flowers you gave me. I'm so sorry,” you cried, “I'm sorry you got stuck with an idiot.”

He pulled you in for a tight embrace, smoothing out your hair. “D-don't ever say that.” he cooed. “You're - you're clever, lovely, and always give me something t-t-to smile about.”

“Anyone can do that.”

Pulling back a little, he gave your shoulder a squeeze and softened. “N-no, not at all. Y-you give away dreams, smiles, and kindness. You're reliable, and I-I can trust you. And there is no one in the universe th-that could compare t-to you when it comes to being the perfect woman. If anything, I'm th-the defect here.”

“No, you're perfect Ricky.”

Placing a lock of hair behind your ear, he continued. “I'm glad y-you think so, but this isn't a-about me. You - you dressed up today, in a-a elegant dress that I'd n-never seen before,” and pressing a kiss behind your ear, he whispered with a little gleam of pride in his eyes.. “wearing the perfume I-I-I made you. Smelling like a-a dream.”

Again, how anyone considered this charmer a doofus you'd never know. “I had been saving it for a special occasion.”

“Everyday with you is - is special.”

“Oh Rick. That's…thank you.”

Pointing at your feet, “And I noticed that you're closer t-t-to my height today, but your feet must be hurting by now. Would y-you like to take them off?”

Oh, your feet were screaming. And now that you weren't pretending, you slipped out of your shoes which made you lose about four inches. Picking up your shoes and shoes and dusting them off, he continued. “That must feel better. I-I-I had to wear heels for a case once. It ugh - it's not practical when y-y-you have to run.”

“Right? I don't see how other women do it, cause I can't. I'm not even sure why I own them. I should just burn those things.”

You'd say it was half relief, half joy that made him laugh wholeheartedly at this, and you didn't see how it could be so funny. You poked him and pouted, and he delighted in this. “See?” he chuckled, looking at you in that funny way he did from time to time.

“See what?”

“This. This is th-the girl I fell in love with,” he stated matter of factly. “the one who likes t-to be comfortable, speaks her mind and prefers those jeans with th-the rip on the side. Not to mention those graphic t-shirts. Or cute pj's.”

Your breath caught a little at this confession. How could the smartest man in the universe adore an impertinent person like you? Maybe the same way you could love the smartest man; you just do. In your girlish voice, you said. “I only wanted you to be proud of me.”

Holding you a fraction tighter, he pressed a light kiss to your temple and chuckled sweetly. “Y-you already do princess. Today y-you made an effort for me, and that's impressive, but honestly, I want you t-t-to be comfortable and dress up how y-you like. You as yourself is what impresses me, because you have s-s-so much spirit, and I - that's what makes y-you gorgeous.”

This time you didn't even try to hide your blush.

“Oh Rick, hearing you say that really does make me feel silly. Why did I do this to myself? What was I thinking?”

“I believe y-you're still trying to figure it all out like the rest of us, and I can't get mad at you for th-that because you're wonderfully human. You had good intentions, and th-that's what counts.”

“Can you forgive me?”

“I al-already have.”

TBC

#doofus rick #doofus rick x reader #rick sanchez x reader #j19z7 #rick j19z7 #rnm fanfic #my writing #my works

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xtruss · 3 years

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Goodbye Ted Dexter, Free Spirit, Cricket Thinker, Renaissance Man

The England and Sussex captain had aura, flair, majestic batting, and impossible glamour - and that was just on the field

— Mark Nicholas | 27 August, 2021

Ted Dexter batting in a ring of close-in fielders in Sydney, January 1963 Getty Images

I don't know when the Ted Dexter affectation started but I can guess. The last thing my father did with me before he died so young was to take me to see the 1968 Gillette Cup final at Lord's. This was during Ted's short comeback and when the great man strode to the wicket, I leapt about in excitement, cheering his name for all I was worth. He didn't get many but no matter, I had seen him live. That evening Dad bowled to me in the garden as I imitated every Dexter mannerism and stroke I had seen just a few hours before.

"There is about Dexter, when he chooses to face fast bowling with determination, a sort of air of command that lifts him above ordinary players. He seems to find time to play the fastest bowling and still retain dignity, something near majesty, as he does it." — John Arlott

I fell for the aura, and for the flair in those back-foot assaults on fast bowlers. Not for a minute do I think I saw the 70 in 75 balls against Wes Hall and Charlie Griffith at Lord's in 1963 but I feel as if I did - the power, the poise, the sheer gall of it. Nothing, not even the Beatles, could drag me from the television screen when he walked to the wicket, seemingly changing the picture from black-and-white to glorious technicolor as he took guard. Frankly, much of the Test cricket of the time was pretty dull but there was a frisson, an expectation, with Ted, just as there is when Ben Stokes is on his way today. It was all too brief, he had retired for good before I started proper school.

The West Indians of the day - Conrad Hunte, Garry Sobers, Wes Hall - thought that innings the best played against them by anybody, though Dexter himself would modestly say it was just one of those days where everything came together and the bat swung freely in just about the right arc. He was well miffed to be given out lbw, however, insisting later that the DRS would have saved him. Who knows how many careers might have been changed by the sliding doors of the DRS.

The word majesty sits well with Dexter's batting, primarily because of the way in which he attacked through the off side off his back foot. This is a stroke so difficult to master that more prosaic batters choose to ignore it. It is no great surprise that Dexter thought Gordon Greenidge and Martin Crowe the two most technically correct right-hand players that he saw, citing their ability to stay sideways-on and to play the ball alongside their body as the prime reason for the accolade.

He was a huge fan of Joe Root and became near apoplectic during the England captain's relatively lean spell a while ago, when he became square-on to the bowler and was playing in front of his body. This niggled so much that he wrote to Root without mincing his words. Though at first put out, Root soon saw the kindness in a man of Dexter's age and knowledge who bothered to write, and therefore returned an email of thanks with the observation that he took the point. Who knows to what degree? It is enough to say that this year Root has batted about as well as any man could have done, and no one has enjoyed each of these innings in Sri Lanka, India, and now at home as much as Dexter.

One final appeal: Dexter (fourth from left) watches as umpire Charlie Elliot gives John Inverarity out off Derek Underwood, The Oval, 1968 Getty Images

For the best part of a year now, Ted has been banging on about Dawid Malan: simply couldn't understand why England didn't pick him to bat at three. He cited the hundred in Perth in 2017 and this year's big scores for Yorkshire before predicting near-certain success with the method that brought those runs. It is sad, indeed, that he didn't live to see the fulfillment of his prophecy in Malan's fine innings yesterday. He liked the look of James Vince and Zak Crawley too, cricketers who stand tall and play with freedom. He got a lot right, this man of Radley, Cambridge, Sussex and England.

Tall himself, strong, handsome and impossibly glamorous, Edward Ralph Dexter caught everyone's eye. With the golden Susan Longfield on his arm, they cut quite a dash and cared little for the sniping that came from those less blessed. The enigma in him - and how! - was often confused with indifference, and though cricket has remained his other great love, it was never the be-all and end-all for him - a fact that made his appearances all the more cherished and his company all the more engaging. It is remarkable to think that he first retired as far back as 1965, before returning briefly in 1968 to make a double-hundred at Hastings against Kent and be immediately recalled to the England team for the Ashes. In the brilliant photograph (above) of the moment when Derek Underwood claims the final wicket at The Oval, Ted is caught spinning to appeal for lbw with a face that smacks of a lifelong instinct for competition and achievement.

"Ted was a man of moods, often caught up in theories, keen when the action was hot, seemingly uninterested when the game was dull... a big-time player, one who responded to atmosphere, liked action and enjoyed the chase and gamble. Maybe this was the reason he was drawn to horse racing so that a dull day stalking the covers might be enlivened for him by thoughts of how his money was faring on the 3:15 at Ascot or Goodwood." — John Snow

Richie Benaud and Dexter in Sydney during the 1963-64 Ashes Frank Albert Charles Burke / Fairfax Media/Getty Images

And Snow would know for he was not the type to rise above those grey days of county cricket when the stakes were so low. Snow and Dexter, my first heroes, along with Jimmy Greaves and George Best, Muhammad Ali, the Beatles and the Stones - all of them important figures at 29 Queensdale Road, where the young Nicholas grew up with vinyl records and cared-for willow, narrow-grained and well-oiled for the garden Test matches that England forever won.

Much of the 1960s were about rebellion, revolution even, in response to the age of austerity. After the long and mainly drab post-war years, the young simply broke free and changed pretty much anything they could get their hands on. Music and fashion led the way, leaving sport's establishment to stutter in their wake. Only a few precious players could transcend the inertia, using both their talent and expression to delight the crowds and influence the young. Cricket was my thing, Dexter and Snow were the wind beneath my wings.

In Snow there truly was rebellion, against authority and the system it supported. This was not so in Dexter's case, though his free spirit and somewhat cavalier approach to responsibility gave the impression of one determined to ruffle feathers. From the outset he adored sport, worked harder than some might think at his books, and embraced diversions with the enthusiasm of a man who had more to do than could ever be done.

In many ways Ted was a contradiction: at once a conformist, as shaped by the early years of his life at home and school, and a modernist, whose lateral thinking did much to reform the structure of English cricket during his time as chairman of selectors. Richie Benaud observed that Ted's imagination and drive "will be of great benefit to English cricket in years to come. Equally, I'm in no doubt that others will take the credit for it." The rebellion in Ted was hardly radicalised but he loved to challenge conservative thinking, to take risks and to invest in his life as an adventure. Both on and off the field, this made for a terrific watch.

The best of Ted: Dexter on his way to 70 against Wes Hall and Charlie Griffith at Lord's, June 1963 PA Photos

He thought the Hundred a good wheeze and admitted he would rather like to have played it himself. He was, of course, the original thinker about one-day cricket, supporting its conception as early as the late 1950s and then leading Sussex to the first two 60-over titles at Lord's in the Gillette Cup. He paid close attention to the tactics and convinced his men that following them to the letter would do the trick. Which it did. He pushed for four-day county matches 27 years before they were incorporated and he founded the idea of central contracts for England players long before other teams caught the bug.

He was proud of his part in the development of the spirit of cricket, applying golf's moral high ground to the game that made his name. Through his own PR agency, he became a pioneer in cricket's digital-technology revolution by inventing the system of Test match rankings that first announced itself under the banner of Deloitte and is now the ICC international rankings.

On a Zoom call a couple of months back, with tongue firmly in cheek, he said, "Having a rather high opinion of myself, I can safely say that had the rankings been in place sometime around the mid part of the 1963 summer, I would have been the No. 1-rated batsman in the world." We had special guests on these calls - Mike Atherton, Michael Vaughan, Ed Smith, Robin Marlar, Sir Tim Rice and more - all keen to share a drink, chew the cud and have a laugh with the game's most original and forward-thinking mind.

Champagne days: (from left) Fred Trueman, Dexter, David Sheppard and Colin Cowdrey celebrate after winning the Melbourne Test, January 1963 PA Photos/Getty Images

We cannot jump past golf without mentioning the game at the Australian Golf Club in Sydney when Ted partnered Norman Von Nida against Jack Nicklaus and Gary Player. So enamoured of Ted's golf were they that Nicklaus suggested Ted follow him back to the USA for a crack at the tour. Player has long said that Ted was the best amateur ball-striker he ever saw and Von Nida just thanked him for securing the one-up triumph that day. Eighteen months ago Player told me that in their one head to head with each other, Ted beat him up the last at Sunningdale, receiving only four shots. "Little so-and-so," said Ted, "we played level!" They were due for a game last summer but Covid stood firmly between them. The last time I played with Ted, two summers ago now, he beat his age, shooting 83 round the Old Course at Sunningdale without breaking a sweat.

This was a man of Jaguar cars, Norton motorbikes, greyhounds, race horses and an Aztec light airplane that, in 1970, he piloted to Australia with his young family beside him, to cover the Ashes as a journalist. They flew 12,000 miles and made about two dozen stops at British military bases along the way.

Ted married the very beautiful Susan soon after returning from Australia and New Zealand in the spring of 1959. How she is hurting today. So too Genevieve, Tom and the grandchildren.

There was an eccentricity in him that was occasionally misunderstood but otherwise immensely appealing and it is with that in mind, that I turn to the man himself for the final word. It comes from his blog, which is a splendid read and will remain a platform for the family to share their thoughts about this husband, father and grandfather who brought us so much joy.

Dexter and Frank Worrell at a BBC interview with Peter West, August 1963 Harry Todd / Fox Photos/Getty Images

It was in my last term at Radley College when I had a hard game of rackets in the morning, scored 3 tries with two conversions for the 1st XV in the afternoon, was heard listening to operatic voices in the early evening, before repairing to the Grand Piano in the Mansion and knocking off a couple of Chopin preludes. "Quite the Renaissance man it seems" said my Social Tutor and I admit I liked the sound of it, if not quite knowing what it meant.

The Encyclopaedia Brittanica description of Renaissance man (or polymath) is as follows: one who seeks to develop skills in all areas of knowledge, in physical development and social accomplishment and in the arts. A point is made that you do not need to excel at any one activity. It is enough to tackle it seriously and see how far you get. I like the physical development bit obviously and I feel the social accomplishment bit is covered by my willingness to take on responsibilities all my life. Perhaps the arts bit is a bit shaky but a love for music, and particularly opera, and love of language - being fairly fluent in French, Italian, rudimentary German and Spanish - may be some modest qualifications."

Some different cat, huh. What a man. What a cricketer. Goodbye Ted, and thank you.

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