Never has a captain been asked to deliver such a funeral tribute. Clarke's 5½ minutes might have been the finest speech ever given by an Australian sportsman. Michael Clarke pauses at his friend Phillip Hughes' casket as he makes his way to the lectern to deliver his tribute. Credit:Reuters "I don't know about you," Clarke said, "but I keep looking for him. I know it's crazy, but I expect any minute to take a call from him or to see his face pop around the corner to call me into the next room for a story and a laugh." With that, the captain's emotions gave way, and so did the nation's. Hughes' death will be seen as the central moment of Clarke's leadership, however long it lasts. Ten days ago, Clarke was in trouble with Cricket Australia because of miscommunication over his hamstring injury, a matter that now seems almost surreally trivial. But on November 24, it seemed important. Clarke was upbraided by his employer, and tensions were said to be building between him, the coach and selectors. That has been consigned to the margins.

Clarke has reasserted one of the oldest traditions of Australian cricket, going back to the first leader, Dave Gregory, which is that ultimate authority resides in the Test captain. 'I keep looking for him, I know it's crazy': Michael Clarke fights through tears as he speaks at the service. Credit:Getty Images But it is precisely because this has not been a self-conscious act of leadership that Clarke has won the country's admiration and sympathy. In the past, he has been criticised for over-contrivance, acting with too much calculation of effect. What we have seen since November 25 has come straight from his heart, a part of the anatomy that Clarke's critics doubted was as warm as they wanted. Clarke's bond with Phillip Hughes was not that of a captain and a teammate. Clarke has not been speaking primarily as a representative of his players. Clarke regarded Hughes as his little brother, ever since Hughes came to Sydney to join Clarke's Western Suburbs club eight years ago. They were as close as cricket mates can be. In times of stress and division, Clarke always knew that Hughes' was the first and last voice of loyalty. There have been many days and nights when Clarke has needed Hughes. Clarke with his 'little brother' Hughes.

This has been the searing grief of one young man of 33 years who has lost his buddy. Next to this fact, Clarke's position as cricket captain is almost incidental. Yet Clarke's speech also showed a consciousness reaching outside this personal sadness, and outside cricket. In likening the sacred link of cricketers with the Sydney Cricket Ground to that of indigenous people to "the land upon which they walk", Clarke was making a statement that reaches, in C.L.R. James' words, "beyond the boundary". It was at this point that Clarke's embrace took in Hughes' family, the cricketers in the hall, the people of Macksville, cricket lovers around the world, and all Australians. Here were words that transcended these young men's personal grief, opened hearts and went some way to explaining why this terrible event has had the impact it has had. And finally, just as he was looking like a spent force, the emotionally exhausted and physically impaired man who, 10 days ago, must have felt like packing it all in, Clarke spoke of the future. Napoleon said leaders are "dealers in hope". Echoing the encouragement Hughes had often given him in cricket partnerships, Clarke concluded: "We must dig in and get through to tea. And we must play on. So rest in peace, my friend and brother. I'll see you out in the middle."

Full circle: life must continue, and our departed remain inside us. Michael Clarke's tribute to Phillip Hughes "He was so proud of Macksville and it's easy to see why today. Taken from [us all] at the age of 25, he left a mark on our game that leaves no embellishment. I don't know about you but I keep looking for him. I know it's crazy, but I expect any minute to take a call from him or see his face pop around the corner.

Is this what we call the spirit? If so, then his spirit is still with me and I hope it never leaves. I walked out into the middle of the SCG on Thursday night, those same blades of grass beneath my feet, where he and I and so many of his mates here today have built partnerships, taken chances and lived out the dreams we painted in our heads as boys. The same stands where the crowds rose to their feet to cheer him on, and the same fence he sent the ball to time and time again. It's now forever the place where he fell. I stood at the wicket and knelt down to touch the grass and I swear he was with me, picking me up off my feet to check if I was OK, telling me we just needed to dig in, and get through to tea. Telling me off for that loose shot I'd played, chatting about what movie we'd watch that night, and then passing on a useless fact about cows. I could see him swagger back to the other end, grin at the bowler, then call me through for a run with such a booming voice a bloke in the car park could hear it.

The heart of a man who lived his life for this wonderful game we play, whose soul enriched not just our sport but all of our lives. Is this what indigenous Australians believe about a person's spirit being connected to the land upon which they walk? If so, I know they're right about the SCG. His spirit has touched it, and it will forever be a sacred ground for me. I can feel his presence there, and I can see how he's touched so many people around the world. The tributes to him from cricket lovers across the globe have kept me going. The photos, the words and the sense of communion in this sense of loss has shown me his spirit is in action. It has sustained me and overwhelmed me in equal measure, and the love of my band of Baggy Green and Gold brothers and sisters have held me upright when I felt I could not proceed. His spirit has brought us closer together, something I know must be him at work because it's so consistent with how he played and lived. He always wanted to bring people together, always wanted to celebrate his love for the game and its people.

Is this what we call the spirit of cricket? From the little girl in Karachi holding a candle-light tribute, to masters of the game like Tendulkar, Warne and Lara, showing their grief to the world, the spirit of cricket binds us all together. We feel it in the thrill of a cover drive, or the taking of a screamer in gully, whether by a 12-year-old boy in Worcester or by Brendan McCullum in Dubai. It's in the brilliant 105 wicket haul, just as significant to the players in a western suburbs club game as it is in a Test match. The bonds that lead to cricketers around the world leaving their bats out, that saw people who didn't even know Phillip leave flowers at the gates of Lord's, and that brought every cricketing nation on earth to make its own heartfelt tribute. The bonds that saw players old and new rush to his bedside, from wherever they heard the news, to say their prayers and farewells. This is what makes our game the greatest game in the world. Phillip's spirit, which is now part of our game forever, will act as a custodian of the sport we all love. We must listen to it, we must cherish it, we must learn from it, we must dig in ... dig in, and get through to tea. And we must play on.

So rest in peace my little brother. I'll see you out in the middle."