Jonathan Howcroft is a freelance sports journalist.

The English don't often do sporting excellence. When they do, it tends to be, well, a bit too English. Elite performers usually fit the mould of Nick Faldo, Nigel Mansell, Sebastian Coe or Jonny Wilkinson; more diffidence than daring. In 1971 the English voted Princess Anne their favourite athlete of that year for competently riding a horse through a field. Honestly.

Which makes the injury-enforced retirement of England's Andrew Flintoff, a competitor not only of genuine world standing, but also a charismatic entertainer, all the more poignant.

In a sport scripted by numbers Flintoff's never told the whole story. For an all-rounder he failed the first hurdle by retiring with a Test bowling average above that of his batting. He scored just five hundreds and only three times took five wickets in an innings. But Fred always seemed to turn it on when it mattered. Whether he actually did or not is irrelevant - it felt like he did and that was good enough.

In truth, Flintoff's career never fully delivered on the potential that so excited the cricket establishment in the late 1990s. Fast-tracked through the ranks as captain of the under-19s Flintoff was English cricket's great young hope; the all-rounder who could bowl like Botham and bat like, well, Ian Botham. Except that the rigors and disciplines of first class cricket proved challenging for the stocky Lancastrian and it was some time after his 1998 Test debut before he turned in a performance worthy of the hype.

His breakthrough came in the winter of 2001-02 while touring India. By then, Flintoff had remodelled himself from an explosive top-order batsman who bowled a bit to a hostile pace bowler and master of reverse swing. That tour's ODI series went to the final over of the final game with India requiring five runs to win with two wickets to spare and the ball in Flintoff's hand. He executed a run-out with the fourth ball of the over, bowled Javgal Srinath with his fifth, tore off his shirt in celebration and set off around the Wankhede Stadium like a Pamplona bull in bare-chested delirium. Outstanding.

For the next few years Flintoff was the premier all-rounder in world cricket. He batted with devastating power, particularly against South Africa, and bowled with menace and control in all conditions. Like any English cricketer though his career would be judged on performances in The Ashes, against Australia.

Form and fitness delayed Flintoff from facing the Baggy Greens until the first Test of the 2005 series at Lords. Five unforgettable test matches later he was a national hero.

Flintoff's performances that titanic series were of all-round excellence: 400 runs at an average of 40 and 24 wickets at a shade over 27. But, typically, it wasn't just the stats; it was how he accumulated those numbers that made Flintoff so admired. His only century of the series, at Trent Bridge, took England from a stodgy 5/240 to a match-winning 477 at almost a run-a-ball. He took wickets at the right time too.

Despite being part of England's strongest attack in a generation it was he who was thrown the ball when something magical was needed, and so often in that series, he delivered. The sight of Flintoff bowling around the wicket yet moving the ball away from the left-handed Australian batsmen is amongst the finest in modern test-match cricket. As was the arms-outstretched wicket-snaring salute.

But that series will be remembered not only for the quality of the contest but also for the quality of the sportsmanship. The image of Flintoff ignoring his teammate's celebrations as he commiserates Brett Lee at Edgbaston is as much part of his legacy as his chest-beating patriotism.

England and Flintoff did not advance much beyond this series. Fitness again hindered and, frustratingly, off-field indiscretions began to creep in. The infamous ‘Fredalo' incident at the 2007 World Cup soured his relationship with teammates and the England establishment. Coming off the back of captaining England to a whitewash defeat in Australia, Flintoff's injury-prone stock fell rapidly.

By 2009 questions were being asked whether Flintoff's body could survive the demands of international cricket and the introduction of the lucrative IPL looked perfectly timed to reward England's talisman with a well-earned pay-day.

In spite of this and chronically painful ankles, which required ongoing pain-killing injections, Flintoff fought through four of the five tests of the 2009 Ashes, his last meaningful contribution to his sport. Though his performances were broadly unspectacular he still managed to conjure something when it mattered most. His run-out of Ricky Ponting in the final test, just as Australia looked primed to launch an assault on an unlikely victory, seemed fated. He basked in that match-winning, series-cementing, career-defining moment as if it had been scripted just for him.

England doesn't produce enough Andrew Flintoff's so when they come along they are cherished, idolised and, perhaps, afforded greater importance than they might receive in more fecund cricketing nations. Flintoff's career could easily be remembered as one of a supreme talent unfulfilled. I prefer to think of his career as a highlights package, just the roars and intense stares, not the breakdowns and batting yips. His performances in 2005 and 2009 alone justify his inclusion in lists of greatest English sportsmen, however that might appear to diminish the achievements of others. As I've said all along, it's not just what Flintoff achieved, it's how he did it. As he put it himself, "not bad for a fat lad.