Proud day for Dickie as he gets call to be president

“It will probably be Dickie after Boycs,” said Graves, the Yorkshire chairman.

“We’d probably put Dickie’s name forward to the Yorkshire members.”

When I wrote as much in this venerable organ, Bird reached straight for a pair of scissors.

“That piece you wrote in t’paper, I’ve cut it out,” he said.

“Thing is, a lot can happen during Boycs’s two years in office, and the club could end up picking somebody else instead of me.

“I’d love to be president after Boycs, and although no one at Yorkshire has told me that I will be, it’s in black-and-white now for everyone to see.

“Why, Mr Graves has practically said so in t’Yorkshire Post.”

Good old Dickie. At 80 years young, he has been around long enough to know that things are rarely straightforward in Yorkshire cricket, and that circumstances can sometimes change.

Had he not been made president this year, I had visions of him turning up at next month’s AGM waving said article in the direction of a flummoxed top table, as though exhorting an errant spectator to stop moving behind the bowler’s arm during his days as an international umpire.

He needn’t have worried.

Graves followed through on his intention and it was simply that Dickie was so desperate, so endearingly enthusiastic to get the gig that he found himself clinging to any shred of supporting paperwork.

And what a gig...

As the man himself says, “I came from a humble background in Barnsley and now I’ll be Yorkshire president. It is the greatest honour the club can bestow. I cannot thank Mr Graves and the Yorkshire board enough for what they have done for me.”

Of course, it was not long into our talk when the tears began to flow. A deeply emotional man, whose statue in Barnsley has most probably rusted around the eye sockets, Dickie wondered what his dearly departed mother and father would have thought of the honour.

The words stuck in his throat as he trembled: “You know, they would have been so proud, so very, very proud.”

And how Yorkshire, in turn, are proud of Dickie.

After all, the man is an institution, as synonymous with this great county as Yorkshire pudding.

He is also a very deserving institution, the sort of man you want good things to happen to, the sort who has never forgotten his roots.

Dickie has always got time for people, and you are as likely to find him in Ugly Mugs Cafe opposite Headingley cricket ground, mingling with spectators, as you are at Buckingham Palace meeting The Queen, which he has done so often that her beloved corgis most probably think he is one of the family.

Indeed, it is impossible not to like Dickie because there is no hint of side to him or affectation.

When he umpired 66 Test matches and 69 one-day internationals, earning the love and respect of all the great players to grace the 1970s, 1980s and 1990s, his modesty and integrity shone through.

He was so bloke-next-door that he should really have been standing over a garden hedge as opposed to a set of stumps, while his decision-making and man-management skills were second to none.

Nobody, but nobody, had a bad word to say about him – not even the poor old batsman sent on his way by an lbw verdict.

Dickie is not only a great fellow, but a great ambassador.

Go anywhere in the world and people not only know of Dickie Bird, but they know that he hails from Yorkshire.

Now he will put those ambassadorial skills to use in his new role as president.

As Graves said last night: “His passion and dedication will be a major asset as the club continues to develop over the next few years.”

One thing you can be sure of is that Dickie will still be as visible as ever. He plans to sit with the Yorkshire members at Headingley and he will certainly not be holed up all day in the Hawke Suite on the third floor of the Carnegie Pavilion, mixing exclusively with the great and good.

Why, Dickie will even be on some of this year’s team photographs when Yorkshire hold their annual media day at Headingley in April.

The players thought it would be nice to invite him along and to welcome him properly.

“I’ve been told I’ve got to be at Headingley by 9.00am sharp,” said Dickie, a famously early riser who always arrives well ahead of schedule for appointments.

“Do you think you’ll be able to manage that?” asked someone at the club.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there at 7.00am,” I replied.

“The funny thing is, the chap thought I was joking.”

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