A REASSURING constant of Graeme Hick's cricket career is that, when he scores one century, another isn't far round the corner.

Yesterday was no exception. He followed 315 not out against Kent with an unbeaten 141 to put Worcestershire Royals top of the Norwich Union League.

Remarking that his knock rolled back the years, as some might be tempted to do, risks suggesting that he has suffered a hiatus. Nothing could be further from the truth.

From the day he scored 82 on his county debut in 1984, he has made regular visits to places in the record books which were previously the preserve of names as illustrious as Bradman and Hobbs.

It's always been a disappointment to us that a player of Basil D'Oliveira's magnitude has never been fully recognised by his adopted city.

It's time to think about righting that wrong, and begin considering when the Freedom of the City might be bestowed on him and Sir Graeme as a mark of the community's gratitude for achievements which reflect so well on all of us.

On a separate sporting note, we observed on Saturday that Tim Henman's Wimbledon semi-final defeat by Lleyton Hewitt underlined that Britain had an enormous way to go in breeding relentlessly hungry champion sportsmen.

The first-set cheer which greeted David Nalbandian breaking Hewitt's serve, yesterday, was louder than the one which marked the Aussie's victory and suggested that the nation doesn't have the psyche to breed a champion.

Do we want underdogs or winners? As far as the British are concerned, the answer is depressingly telling.