A Tribute to David Crowe
By Maximum Crowe

The first word that comes to mind when recalling Dave Crowe is humor. Dave's was apparent from our first communication with him, even if it was via e-mail. You could always imagine his eyes twinkling or a smile forming whenever he sat at the computer. His columns were mostly heavy on the cricket lingo, but even a clueless Yank knew that his real kick was just communicating with his readers, interacting with the crowd. Just being Dave.

The second word that comes to mind is family. To Dave, it was more than just a concept. His love for family and friends was unparalleled, and it was important to him that others know how much he loved those around him. He beamed most brightly about his own children, Martin, Jeff and Deb. With each of them, he had a lot to be proud of. His sons' success in cricket was one of those sources of pride, but it wasn't why he loved them. He simply loved them because they were his own.

He was always excited to visit brother Alex and his family in Australia. And he loved to hang out with grandniece Chelsea. He'd tell anyone who'd listen about talented niece Suzy. And then there was his fondness for his brother's son, Russell. He knew Russell's films like the biggest of fans, and there's probably not one he wouldn't praise. But his fondness had nothing to do with Russell's career or his stardom, but rather his spirit, his generosity and, most obviously, his dedication to the family.

Dave always had a story to tell about this one or that one, and they were always entertaining, if not enlightening. Underneath the story of a 12-year-old Russell betraying him as umpire during a cricket match, there was delight in sharing with us the knowledge that Russell has always been a character offscreen as much as on. Underneath Dave's admittedly "bad" joke about wife Audrey -- "Come on, Derek, you don't pack the things you don't need," he once quipped to Gladiator co-star Derek Jacobi when asked where Audrey was -- you knew that Dave was kidding. There goes that twinkle again.

And then there was Dave's passion. Passion for sport. Passion for learning. Passion for life. In his last communication with our editor -- during which the word "die" never came up -- he vowed to fight his cancer until the end. We never doubted it for a second.

On May 12, 2000, Dave's battle ended.

We never got to meet face to face, but we suspect that didn't really matter. Though time zones and generations apart, he was simply our friend. And more than his stories, or his reviews, we'll miss just knowing he's out there living life. Making someone smile. Eyes twinkling.

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