The Lord's prayer – give us an exhibition of the Blackwell arts

The latest biffer from Somerset is known to his mates as Blackie. How appropriate it is, conjuring up as it does images of the village smithy, sturdy of build and girth, rolling up his sleeves, wielding his bat as he would an iron at his anvil and smiting the ball to all parts with a gleam in his eye.

As it happens, the sobriquet was given because of the rather more prosaic reason that the biffer's name is Ian Blackwell. No matter. He fits the bill perfectly as the bucolic bludgeoner of bowling, a man whose simple creed is that if the bowler bowls it his job is to hit it as far as possible.

"I play a lot on instinct," said Blackie, as if we might not be able to tell. "Sometimes that can lead to a lack of judgement but I have tried to curb that in the Championship and play myself in. But there is a tendency to play well away from my body and in the one-day game obviously go for shots rather than playing each ball on its merits." What a thrilling sight Blackwell is in any sort of flow. He hits rapidly through the line, not always impeccably straight but in such a whirlwind of ferocity that he can render useless any plans carefully laid by the fielding side.

He put on just such an exhibition in the semi-final of the C & G Trophy against Kent when he smashed 86 from 53 balls. It was scintillating, unfettered, intuitive hitting and Lord's should be so lucky to witness a repeat in the final next Saturday, when Somerset take on Yorkshire in defence of the cup they won in 2001. In the event, Somerset and Blackwell can consider themselves lucky to be there. Despite his heroic deeds in a total of 344 for 5, Kent needed only nine runs to win with 15 balls and four wickets left. They blew it.

After that, anything Yorkshire can throw at them in the 40th knock-out final should be manageable. They already know about Blackwell. During an early Championship match this summer, the 2001 champions were playing the 2001 runners-up. Matthew Hoggard, one of England's finest, let one rip at Blackwell.

The batsman took it off his nose end and hooked it somewhere towards the banks of the Tone. Hoggard tried it again. And again. And again. The result was similar, the destination varied only by a few yards. "We were bowling to a plan," said Hoggard later. Blackwell made 114.

Comparisons with the other Somer- set biffer of the moment, Marcus Trescothick, are natural. Blackwell might hit the ball even harder. He has established perhaps a greater cult following among the Taunton faithful. They carry supportive banners and indulge in jovial talk about renaming the Taunton ground's most famous stand – the Ian Botham Stand, naturally – after him.

He is a batsman to fall in love with, though selectors have so far resisted the allure. When Blackwell made four first-class hundreds and had an average of nearly 50 last summer he seemed destined for a place at the National Academy. Word came back that the powers that be were unhappy with his fitness and approach. Blackwell spent the winter answering the Somerset phones. But it also allowed him to spend some time in the gym, sculpting, or at least moulding, that blacksmith's frame. "The trouble is, I've got a rugby player's shape, not a cricketer's," he said. Say a prop forward of 1980s vintage.

He is engaging and aware of his faults as a cricketer. This winter, he is desperate to make the Academy. Looking at him in his pomp at the age of 24, you wonder if he should not already have been earmarked for something better, but it is too late now to take him to the 2003 World Cup.

He is athletic enough in the field without being a blend of Colin Bland and Jonty Rhodes, and he bowls left-arm spin which is getting tidier. Adjustments to his pace have made him less accurate but more potent. The bowling must be a significant part of his game.

"My batting has been going though a blip in the past few weeks," he said last Tuesday. The following day he went and made his third hundred of the summer, a blistering 110 from 105 balls.

"I know that Taunton suits my game. It's got shortish boundaries and I can hit through the line of the ball, which I might not be able to get away with at other places." Somerset undoubtedly suits him in other ways. He is a Derbyshire boy, born and bred, made his debut for the county in 1997, but the West Country was waiting for Blackie and his anvil.