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The thought of watching an India Test team without Virat Kohli in it will take some getting used to.
I first played a full international against Kohli in an ODI at Lord’s in 2011, then in Test cricket in India the following year, when England famously won the series 2-1.
But my first encounter with him came some time before, in an Under-19 series in the UK in 2006. We played three four-day ‘Test’ matches, with some recognisable names on both teams: Moeen Ali, Adil Rashid, Adam Lyth and Ishant Sharma. Kohli and I were both 17, so playing a couple of years above our age group.
Even then, as a youngster a far cry from the supreme athlete he turned into, the competitiveness and fire that has characterised Kohli’s career shone brightly.
In the first game at Canterbury he made 123 in the first innings. It was full of trademark Kohli shots: clips through mid-wicket and punches through the covers with a checked drive.
What I remember most vividly is how keen he was to engage in a battle with us. In age-group cricket, some players are there to score their runs so they progress through the system. Not Kohli. He was there to win. It was this trait that elevated him above his peers and served him so well throughout a Test career that has carried the hopes of 1.4bn people.
From then on, we crossed paths regularly. At the 2008 Under-19 World Cup in Malaysia, we even crossed paths on a nightclub dancefloor. These days he would have too much of an image to uphold, and too much security required, to be seen in the same dodgy establishments as yours truly.
Kohli captained the India team that won that tournament. His expression on lifting the trophy, screaming in delight, was one that became familiar when he celebrated an India wicket in a Test.
Even at that age he was the prized wicket in the India team, the one you’d phone home to tell your parents about. It was no surprise he made his full one-day international debut later that year, immediately looking at home.
Bowling to Kohli was tough. You never wanted to engage him too much, because you knew that it would bring out the best in him. At the same time, you never wanted to back down so much that he didn’t respect you.
If you bowled too full, he could punish you on both sides of the wicket. Drop short and he played off the back foot just as well. You knew you couldn’t miss.
He walked to the crease with his shoulders pushed back. You could sense an anticipation in the stands, even when Kohli was playing outside of India. It was intimidating, and you just had to stay in control of your own emotions.
There was an intensity about everything he did, and that extended off the field.
In 2016, we played a five-Test series in India. It was a long, gruelling tour that turned out to be Alastair Cook’s last as England captain.
As you move around the country, tourists typically stay in the same hotels as the India team, so you see them quite a lot away from the ground.
Two things stood out. Firstly, if Kohli even set foot in the hotel lobby, it was pandemonium. There were people just trying to catch a glimpse of their hero as he made his way to the team bus. Living with that level of stardom and pressure is like nothing any English cricketer can imagine.
Secondly was the way in which the India team had changed their attitude to training. On the previous Test tour, four years earlier, we would generally be the only team using the hotel gym. We would have free rein to use whatever equipment we pleased.
By 2016, these hotel gyms had now become boutiques to Kohli’s fitness regime, and the rest of the team followed on his coattails. There were Olympics lifting bars, weights and an on-call fitness trainer. It was obvious we were dealing with a very different India team, one that became formidable as a result.
That Kohli intensity was always going to be hard to sustain and I don’t think it’s surprising his Test batting numbers tailed off towards the end of his captaincy, then again as he fell back into the ranks.
That does not detract from his status as a great of the game. In terms of the Fab Four, he is the first to retire from Test cricket and his numbers do not match those of Kane Williamson, Joe Root and Steve Smith.
On a personal note, he is responsible for one of my few moments of cricket badgerism.
I liked getting shirts from players in the opposition and I wanted one from Kohli.
At the end of an ODI at Dharamsala in January 2013, we swapped shirts. We didn’t sign them, but I kept hold of his.
When we next played against each other, at Edgbaston in August 2014, I took my shirt along and asked the dressing room attendant if Kohli could sign it. He did, addressing me as ‘Steve’, a name only my mum uses. Funnily enough, Kohli did not ask for me to sign his Finn shirt.
I always found him to be polite, interesting and someone who would be a very good team-mate. I was never lucky enough to experience him as that.
I don’t think it’s hyperbole to say that Kohli has done more to maintain the primacy of Test cricket than any other player in the modern era.
It would have been so easy for him to walk away from the grind much sooner than this. He could have basked in the financial prosperity of the Indian Premier League, influenced his 271m Instagram followers (three times more than David Beckham) and used his image to secure his family’s future.
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