THE reaction that comes from an untimely, unexpected death is invariably one of shock.

Even more so when that person, beloved of so many, is a force of nature.

A week after the jarring news of Shane Warne’s sudden passing in Thailand at the age of 52 — which is no age at all — there is a feeling of implausibility.

How can we come to terms with something we thought was impossible? No wonder the freight train of grief has hit us all so very hard over the last few days.

Warne’s tragic departure brings a sense that it is simply inconceivable. Someone who burned so bright, who had such a lust for life, is no longer with us.

The outpouring of grief from the entire cricket community was as heartwarming as it was heartbreaking. Yet Warnie was bigger than that. His renown lay far beyond a boundary.

Whether you were a cricket tragic who’d swallowed Wisden, simply knew of his exploits vaguely, or were even just aware of him through being Liz Hurley’s ex, the fact was you warmed to Warnie. Because he was what the Australians call a “larrikin.” A maverick, someone with disregard to convention, a bit of a rebel with a heart of gold.

No wonder so many former teammates, not just from the Australian Test dressing room, but from players all over the world, from Hampshire in the county championship to the Rajasthan Royals in the IPL, paid tribute to his warmth, his passion, his generosity of spirit, inherent empathy and emotional intelligence.

Yes, over the years there were also the brawls, betting scandals, drug controversies and sexual peccadilloes, but that came with the territory with Warnie. If you wanted good boys, Warnie wasn’t your man.

If you wanted a peroxide punk kicking in doors to a never-ending showreel of cowed and humiliated English batsmen, failing and flailing to the soundtrack of victorious Ashes victories over and over again, then you utterly loved and respected Warnie.

Even if, as an Englishmen who watched numerous Ashes series in the flesh in the northern and southern hemispheres during the entirety of Warnie’s career, such utter brilliance was also difficult to take. Certainly, when you and your team were on the receiving end of such consistent thrashings.

For Warnie, despite his deep knowledge, regard and respect for the game of cricket, he was, at times, a fallible, if bona fide, example of CLR James’s immortal dictum: “What do they know of cricket who only cricket know?”

Let’s get the facts straight, because as much as cricket registers in the emotions of people who play, watch and live for the sport, the record books also count. And how.

Some 708 Test wickets at an average of 25.41 across 145 matches including seven Ashes series victories are records for the ages.

If you throw in a World Cup triumph and an IPL winner, as well as most wickets in a calendar year and most Ashes wickets, no wonder he was named one of the Wisden Cricketers of the Year in the 1994 Wisden Cricketers’ Almanack and was the Wisden Leading Cricketer in the World in 1997 and 2004.

He also single-handedly revived the discipline of leg-spin, which was a lost art, which at the time was akin to reviving popularity for an anachronism as dusty as it was forgotten.

However, even after all those achievements, as so many will attest, he was far more than that.

A story. More than anything, the young, bright blond Warne, with his gold hoop earrings and teenage puppy fat, wanted to play Aussie Rules.

Yet his heart was broken after being rejected by one of Melbourne’s biggest Aussie Rules clubs, St Kilda. Mostly because his appetite for nocturnal adventures diluted his sporting prowess in training, proving to be detrimental to his hopes.

After a meeting with his mentor Terry Jenner, amid some harsh truths over a crate of beer in his unprepossessing Melbourne suburb of Ferntree Gully, Warne decided he would become a cricketer.

Such was his determination he travelled halfway around the world, to a club in Bristol to start his apprenticeship.

In a revealing story recounted this week, the teenage Warne volunteered to help dig someone’s garden after training.

The move came after discovering a household nestled on the boundary of his new club required gardening assistance, after he chased a wayward cricket ball all the way into their back garden.

Keeping his promise, he returned after training. While happily digging away in the ground on a hot day, Warne, who hadn’t even played first class cricket at the time, matter-of-factly told the homeowner that he was going to play Test cricket for Australia. And he did, my word did he.

A simple tale, but one that captured the essence of Warnie — years before his ball of the century that bamboozled Mike Gatting and launched the Australian leg-spinner into the public consciousness.

For it revealed his true character traits: big-hearted, humble and generous, yet teak-tough, bolstered with a steely eyed confidence and determination that would not be dimmed across the next three decades.

No wonder “I saw Warnie bowl” is a statement I’ll always say with pride when speaking about this joyously anti-establishment rebel.

Warne shared his middle name with another legendary cricketer from Down Under, Keith Ross Miller, who served the Royal Australian Air Force against the Nazis during the second world war sandwiched between serving the Australian Test team.

Miller would carouse all night before turning up in his dinner jacket the following morning before invariably hitting a century before lunch. The great cricket writer Neville Cardus called Miller an “Australian in excelsis.”

And if that was the case, which it was, then so too was Shane Warne.

I still can’t comprehend Shane Warne’s death. It’s impossible to process losing such a joyous, passionate force of nature who seized every day with a ready smile.

As his funeral approaches — a state funeral, no less — I am forced to say farewell to the best leg-spinner of all time. One of the greatest cricketers ever. A fierce talented competitor who loved sport and mateship.

Stunned at the untimely death of a true great, I still can’t quite believe this force of nature, beloved by so many, has now left us.