Dickie Davies passes

 Dickie Davies passes

It almost feels as if somebody has turned off the lights, turned down the volume and simply bid farewell to a singular generation in our lives. This is not to suggest that we're in the land of catastrophe but nothing will ever seem quite the same anymore. We're renowned for our toughness and resilience. Nothing can ever faze us because we're more than capable of finding another TV sports broadcaster to focus on for our hero worship. The trouble is that we may never find another quite like him.

A couple of days ago Dickie Davies, he of the distinctively black moustache and ultimately grey streak in his hair, died at the grand old age of 94. To say we were devastated and heartbroken would be a gross exaggeration but when you've followed the career of an articulate, well respected TV presenter from the 1970s it seems as if the world has now moved on and nostalgia for the past provides a soothing antidote to the way things used to be.

Every Saturday lunchtime though Davies would clasp his fingers and hands together, smile genially at the camera for what seemed like the best part of five hours and speak in that very confessional and sincere voice that most of us had come to expect. He would never frown with sanctimonious disapproval  at the corruption that may have infected an Olympic Games or the five iron wedge shot on a golf course nor would he snigger at what might have seemed the frequent frivolities that would accompany the Saturday national treasure that was World of Sport.

For World of Sport was the weekly Saturday helping of sport and entertainment that without fail would veer from the sublime to the ridiculous. It would wend its way through lunchtime and then into afternoon before ending with the classified football results at roughly five o'clock in the evening. But before then World of Sport had encompassed some of the most bizarre, ridiculous but also professional sides of sport.

Just as most of us were wolfing down our final cup of coffee at lunchtime and heading off to Highbury, Old Trafford, Maine Road, Goodison Park, White Hart Lane or Upton Park, Dickie Davies would sit in front of a camera patiently. Behind him, women wearing brown tabards would type away industriously at those now old fashioned typewriters with all of the relevant information on the day's sport, be they football results, tennis confrontations, the household names of sport and the lesser known characters who brought such colour and personality into the tumultuous decade that was the 1970s.

Dickie Davies was the man who did his utmost to keep a straight face when the production team on World of Sport told him that he had to introduce caber tossing from Edinburgh, cliff diving from Mexico and stock car racing from some dusty track in Middle England. Then on a more serious level he would roll out those dulcet tones that would invariably precede the late Prince Philip's carriage driving, the occasional tug of war contest, weightlifting, badminton, cross country running through thick layers of mud and of course darts followed swiftly by the snooker. 

But before Davies went any further he had to be at his most polished and earnest before handing over to the legendary Brian Moore, one of the many founding fathers of  TV football. There had hitherto been very limited exposure of the Beautiful Game. We had watched BBC's Saturday night diet of football with Match of the Day taking pride of place. But then football slotted seamlessly into ITV's somewhat empty sporting schedule. Moore was a friendly, smiling, deeply enthusiastic and measured TV commentator who captured both the energy and vibrancy of 1970s football with those dramatic turns of phrase and emphasis on excitement.

Dickie Davies though was always a safe hand on the tiller and how apposite that must have sounded to many of his viewers. For Davies previous job before becoming the familiar face of TV sport on a Saturday afternoon, was as a ship's purser and entertainment's officer aboard cruise liners.Then he was known as Richard Davies but when he climbed onto dry land in the late 1960s, the commercial channel known as London Weekend Television summoned him to ITV land before choosing Dickie Davies as the new presenter of World of Sport.

Before long he would become established as the almost elegant and refined figure of international sport. Davies was never wayward or erratic, clumsy or accident prone, a man who religiously stuck to the script and was always word perfect with impeccable timing. He would charm his audience with witty references, humorous remarks and a mischievous twinkle in his eye when he had to announce the latest misdemeanour from John Mcenroe, a chuckle on the exploits of the wondrously lovable Jackie Pallo in the wrestling ring and general delight in any sport that had to be relayed to the World of Sport audience.

There were those memorable Christmas editions when all inhibitions and formalities were temporarily discarded only to be replaced by fun and laughter. Yesterday's obituaries to Davies included the famous World of Sport festive offering featuring Eric Morecambe in typical wisecracking form. While desperately trying to present another item on the programme, our Dickie would be reduced to gales of giggles as Eric Morecambe went right up to Davies face and made all manner of glorious observations on the Davies moustache.

In later years Davies would be consigned to the after dinner circuit with regular requests to host charity events, a brief stint on a Sky sports quiz show before full time retirement in a quaint country home beckoned and everybody simply recognised him as that wonderful TV sports presenter from a long time ago. Sadly Davies suffered lengthy spells of serious illness during the 1990s and would never return to the limelight again.

Today we lament the passing of a TV legend, a man who never took life too seriously and always saw the brighter side of life. With the demise of both BBC's Grandstand and then World of Sport Saturday afternoons remind you of an old, neglected building falling into horrible decay. But we still remember Dickie Davies, the warmly charming gentleman who would always remain splendidly impartial when asked which football team he supported or who his favourite sportsman or woman was. So it's Good Afternoon and Evening everybody from Dickie Davies. Saturday afternoon sport will now become a sporting wasteland without you.