Cricket is luckier than most sports. Its shape and rhythm lends itself to fine writing, which explains why, along with boxing, it enjoys such strong literary material.

In England, the genre is exceptionally popular. The appetite there is boundless.

Much good cricket writing has emanated from South Africa in the past two decades and here I think particularly of the likes of Peter Robinson, Luke Alfred, Rodney Hartman, Neil Manthorp, Colin Bryden and, more recently, David Williams and Dr Ali Bacher.

They all have their idiosyncrasies and specific styles, but what binds them is a clear grasp of their subject and a yearn for story-telling. Cricket, of course, has many.

At the Wanderers on Tuesday night, Williams and Bacher launched “South Africa’s Greatest Batsmen, Past and Present”, a tribute to some of the giants of the game.

Given the recent exploits of AB de Villiers and Hashim Amla, it’s a timely addition to any fan’s collection. De Villiers has single-handedly redefined what it is to be an elite batsman, conjuring shots never before seen. Bacher, who could bat a bit himself, is unashamedly in awe of the preternatural talent.

As a boy, I grew up idolising the Transvaal Mean Machine, a bunch who played with swagger and sass. It was Graeme Pollock who kept that engine ticking over, a man who was never daunted, batting quickly and fearlessly.

In this age of endless cricket, bigger bats and superstar batsmen, one of the miracles is that, even now, Pollock remains second on the list of averages for Test players, behind Sir Donald Bradman.

He was there on Tuesday. He has been unwell in recent years, having been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease three years ago, but the medicine is doing its job. He looks healthy and vibrant.

He spoke with enthusiasm, too, listing Barry Richards and Sir Garry Sobers as the finest batsmen he had witnessed. The best bowler he faced? Dennis Lillee, the eminent Australian.

Having produced the popular “Jacques Kallis and 12 Other Great All-rounders” a number of years ago, Williams and Bacher have divined a fluid, efficient manner for their collaborations.

There are some curiosities to their latest book. For instance, Kevin Pietersen, who never played for South Africa, but was born here and has had a troubled relationship with the country of his birth, is included.

Eddie Barlow, though, isn’t.

Nor is Faf du Plessis, who averages more than 50. But there’s still time; he may crack the revision.

What the authors strongly point out is that greatness is measured beyond the cold statistics of a batsman.  Style and context are important, too, which explains Richards’ inclusion, notwithstanding him playing just four Test matches.

Williams and Bacher have also given a nod to two cricketers we might only ever wonder about. Ahmed Deedat and Frank Roro were disadvantaged cricketers who had to do without resources, proper coaching, facilities, tours and opportunity. They were victims of their time, yet they displayed excellence whenever they played. The contribution by historian Krish Reddy is therefore fitting.

What might have been indeed?

The list is an unashamedly subjective one, but you feel they probably got it just right. Williams has long been a student of the game and Bacher is Mister Cricket himself with extraordinary recall.

I’m pleased Bacher goes all out in the conclusion to name the greatest of the great.

See for yourself. Buy the book.

(South Africa’s Greatest Batsmen, Past and Present is on sale at all major retailers and costs R246).