It’s the cheeky smile that lingers.

Ten years to the day since the Phillip Hughes tragedy, I can still see the bright eyes and beaming face of this unaffected country kid. He saw the funny side of things.

Randomly the scene that most often returns is from the team hotel bar in Colombo after he had just eradicated any questions about his place in the side, scoring 126 in his typically flamboyant fashion during a tour of Sri Lanka in September 2011

When he reached his hundred, Hughes made a point of waving his bat in the direction of the Singhalese Sports Club press box, where I was working for NewsCorp as Chief Cricket Writer.

That evening Hughes was standing with opening partner Shane Watson having a quiet chat when I walked up and said “well batted Phil, I saw the wave.” Hughes’s face lit up.

“You’ve joined a select group,” I said. “Steve Waugh did it after scoring a hundred against the West Indies (at the SCG in January 1993) and Simon Katich charged towards the Gabba press box after scoring a hundred in a one-day game.”

Watson threw his head back and laughed but for Hughes, his smile was response enough.

That smile helps clear the dark memories of the worst week I’ve had reporting on or working with international cricketers across almost 40 years.

From his earliest days playing for NSW, the kid from Macksville, a dot on the map halfway between Sydney and Brisbane, was engaging to watch as a batter with his homespun technique and engaging to be around.

Hughes was so warm and genuine. He didn’t know any other way. He was one of those kids where you want to walk up to his parents and shake their hand in congratulations for raising such a lovely young man.

Which was why the grief was felt so far and wide across the cricket community when he left us on November 27 2014, three days short of his 26th birthday.

Most people who met him became instantly fond of him.

A month earlier I had left newspapers after 20 years as a journalist and taken a joint role as Senior Media Manager at Cricket Australia and Head of Communications at Cricket NSW.

All the focus at that time had been on Michael Clarke’s running battle with Cricket Australia over his fitness to play the rapidly approaching first Test against India, but it appeared he had lost the fight.

Hughes had passed 50 batting for his new state, South Australia, on the opening day of their Sheffield Shield match at the SCG and looked set to reclaim his Test place.

Watching the livestream from my office, 200 metres from the playing field, I saw Hughes hook too early at a short ball. He was through the shot when the ball hit him just below the base of the skull, under the helmet.

Hughes propped for a moment, lent forward as time stood still, and then crashed to the pitch face first making no attempt to protect himself. This was bad. The worst I’d seen in a lifetime of following cricket.

I sat stunned for a moment waiting for Hughes to move but there was nothing. My heart sank as players rushed to help. I grabbed my phone and called Cricket NSW CEO Andrew Jones. “Get down to the ground now,” I said. ‘Phil Hughes has been hit and it looks bad.’’

I ran out of the office and past the indoor nets, all since demolished to make way for the new Allianz Stadium, passed the outdoor nets, and went through the gap between the Members and Ladies stands.

Phillip’s mother Virginia and sister Megan, who were there to watch him play, were being shown into a room under the Members Stand by one of my Cricket NSW colleagues.

Three photographers sat next to the boundary fence with their cameras down.

“What’s going on,” I said to Phil Hillyard, a photographer I had done many cricket tours and home seasons with for News Corp.

“Hads (NSW captain and Australian wicketkeeper Brad Haddin) told us to put the cameras down.”

Further around the boundary Cricket Australia’s head doctor John Orchard was working frantically on Hughes. He was on the medicab that had brought him from the ground and a white tablecloth was being held up to shield Hughes from public and media gaze.

“I’ve got a pulse,” I heard Orchard say. Reality began to set in amid the adrenalin. It became increasingly clear that Hughes had probably died before he hit the ground.

Having seen the incident on the livestream, more television cameras and photographers came rushing to the ground. I might have been a member of the media for decades but this was no time for a media circus. There was a life to be saved. I asked security to remove them.

The remainder of the day is a blur as an ambulance, which apparently became lost, and a helicopter arrived at the same time. Hughes was taken to St Vincent’s Hospital just down the road.

I went up and delivered a statement to an unusually busy press box. Shield matches attract almost no media, but with a near Test strength NSW playing a South Australian side with Hughes batting for a place in the Test team, there was plenty of interest.

“Just for your information, Phillip Hughes has been taken to St Vincent’s Hospital and clearly the priority is Phil’s health and we want to keep his family fully informed, so we don’t have any update on Phil’s health at the moment. We’ll keep you informed, Doc Orchard, the NSW doctor on duty, has gone with Phil to the hospital and when John’s in a position he will release a written statement on Phil’s condition, but until then we can’t say anything more because we don’t know and clearly the health of Phil and the well being of his family are paramount.

“When we know more we’ll let you know more, we don’t know when that’s going to be and that’s all we can say at the moment.”

Later I was able to update with: “Phil Hughes was injured today and is undergoing surgery. The outcome of that surgery is unlikely to be known for 24 to 48 hours, we ask you to respect the privacy of his family and friends.”

Another Australian team doctor, Peter Brukner, walked out of a meeting in Melbourne to a text from his son overseas: “What’s happened to Phil Hughes?”

A quick call later and Dr Brukner jumped into a cab and headed straight to Melbourne airport, hopping on a plane to Sydney. He did a handover with Dr Orchard, who had revived Hughes earlier in the day.

I can’t remember my short ride from the SCG to St Vincents, where a large and respectful media pack had gathered. Dr Brukner and I crafted a simple statement which remained the same during the short, periodic media briefings.

“Philip’s condition is unchanged and he remains critical.”

Dr Brukner slept in the hospital waiting room that night in the clothes he had on.

I went home but there was little sleep as the phone rang regularly with overnight media checking on Phillip’s condition.

Next morning Dr Brukner called me to one side and explained that the hope overnight was that Hughes may be OK but that had subsided and that the specialists were going to tell the family that he was not going to survive.

The grief of the family as they left the meeting room reinforced how unfair life can be, how parents should never have to say goodbye to their children in such dreadful circumstances.

The full round of three Sheffield Shield matches had been cancelled and players began flying in from around the country. The decision was made to keep Hughes alive for another 24 hours so those close to him had the chance to say goodbye.

(Nicky Sims/Getty Images)

On November 27, Dr Brukner and I met with the family to put together a statement for the press conference to follow.

Clarke, who had spent much of his time at the hospital, was a great comfort to the Hughes family.

Dr Brukner announced Hughes’ death with a statement that said: “It is my sad duty to inform you that a short time ago Phillip Hughes passed away. He never regained consciousness following his injury on Tuesday.”

Clarke read the statement from the family, Virginia, Megan, father Greg and brother Jason, which said in part: “We’re devastated by the loss of our much-loved son and brother Phillip.”

As the sun set on the third day since Hughes had been felled, an informal wake was held in the SCG Members’ Bar for players and officials.

Some wonderful memories of Hughes were shared, but many of the attendees had moments when they stood silently, drink in hand, gazing wistfully out on a darkening SCG trying to understand what had happened.

For many cricketers the game would never be the same again.