Miles Kington: For a real tough guy, there's only one game in town

American football? That's for cissies. In cricket, it's the slam of ball on bone. Ugly. Violent. A man's game

I have received many glowing letters of tribute to the late Mickey Spillane, the hard-boiled tough-guy thriller writer, and in honour of his memory I would like to publish a few of them today.

From Sir George "Gubby" Trotter

Sir, In all the obituaries of the late Micky Spillane, I am amazed to to see no mention of one of the things most dear to his heart, and that, of course, was the game of cricket.

I was lucky enough to be part of a touring cricket team which went to America in the late 1940s, called "The Troublemakers". One of the games we played was against a Pulp Writers' Eleven from New Jersey, for which Spillane was what might be loosely called the wicket-keeper, except that I never saw a wicket-keeper keep wicket without using gloves before. He squatted behind the stumps using his bare hands to catch anything that came his way.

"Yeah, well, cricket's a tough game, bub, and the tougher the better," he told me when I asked him about it. "We ain't got nothing in the States half as tough. American football? With all that padding and helmets and such-like? That's for cissies! Baseball's OK, but you don't get bouncers flying round the ears and knocking 'em cold. In cricket, it's the slam of ball on bone. Ugly. Violent. A man's game."

"I notice you still wear pads when behind the stumps, Mickey," I said.

He picked me up with one hand.

"I like to keep my pants nice and white," he said. "The pads keep the blood off. You got an argument with that?"

I said I hadn't, and he put me down again.

A great guy.

Yours etc

From Mr Arthur Halfdane

Sir, I can vouch for the above. I lived in New York in the 1960s and was one of the few cricket umpires in that city. Once, I was umpiring a game between Queens and New Jersey, and Spillane was called on to bowl. It is normal for the umpire to be given a jersey to hold by the bowler. Spillane gave me a jersey, a small Derringer pistol, a knuckle-duster and a cosh.

"Is this gun loaded?" I said.

"Yeah," he said. "You got a problem with that?"

I said I hadn't, and he didn't hit me. A lovely guy.

From Mrs Leila Kalkbrenner

Dear Sir, I can vouch for that. I had a big thing going with Mickey once, when he was between wives, and he took me to a cricket game. There was one guy who had a ball and other people who had bats, and the guy with the ball threw it at the people with bats, and it was all very boring, so I started talking to the guy next to me, who was English and had this cute accent. Suddenly, after about three hours, Mickey leant over and said: "Are you talking to my girl?" Before the guy could answer, Mickey punched him in the face. Shortly after that, the guy came round and moved away. But I don't think Mickey ever actually hit me. A sweet guy.

Yours etc

From James "Fats" Klink

Sir, That sounds like the Mickey Spillane I knew. I was playing in a game in Brooklyn once and he was fielding at mid off, and this guy played and missed at the ball, and we all thought we heard a click and said: "Howzat?" and the umpire said "Not out", and Mickey went up to him and said: "Out!" and the umpire said, a bit nervously, "Not out," and Mickey said: "You don't understand - I mean you out!" and landed one on his chin. Mickey was right, because the umpire was out for at least 10 minutes. A great guy.

Yours etc

From Al "Legs" Murray

Sir, Hey, I just understood. For years I have been puzzling over a passage in a Spillane book, where it says: "His face was bleeding as if he had just ducked into a bouncer". I see now it's some dumb-ass cricket term. Incidentally, the last time I met Mickey he was in tears over the introduction of helmets and visors. "If I was dead, I'd be turning in my grave," he said. Wise guy.

Yours etc