DAVE Lanning was insistent. He wouldn't take no for an answer and wanted us to see him at work in his second home, the Sky Sports commentary box.

It was March 2006 and the Premier League Darts had come to Bournemouth with Phil Taylor and Raymond van Barneveld on the bill, set to face each other for the first time in the PDC following the Dutchman's switch from the BDO.

It was a special night. There was a sense of genuine anticipation in the air. A capacity crowd and a TV audience of millions.

Van Barneveld, of course, went on to complete a nine-dart finish that night against Peter Manley - only the seventh on TV in history at that time and called by the voice of darts Sid Waddell, whose Cambridge graduate meets working class tones bellowed "I do not believe my Geordie eyes" as van Barneveld spread his arms wide in delight at what was then still a rare feat. The reporter from the Sun, meanwhile, was in the Gents and missed the whole thing. But that's another story. One that Dave would have split his sides over.

For me, though, the moment of that historical evening was joining Dave and Sid in the commentary box. Dave had insisted we did so, despite only meeting us for the first time hours earlier in the press room. He was an Echo old boy, 'The Pirate' no less, and loved us simply because we worked for his own first love, his local paper.

Watching Dave and Sid, a partnership Dave later described as a pub-going Hinge and Bracket, was watching geniuses at work. How they bounced off each other. How Dave knew his cue when Sid had to wipe his mouth with a handkerchief. On more than one occasion, Sid almost fell off his chair such was his boyish enthusiasm for the 'arras.

If Sid was chips and gravy, though, then Dave was the Champagne and Caviar you treated yourself to on a really special occasion. Dave always called Taylor 'Philip' when he did something on the oche that blew minds. Dave and Sid complemented each other like Gin and tonic water. Now they are together again, on heaven's oche.

If Sid's commentary, all chip sandwiches and giddy, clog-wearing Dutch uncles, made you laugh then Dave had the ability to make you cry. To make you feel what those giants of darts were feeling as that winning double glided into the board in the World Championship final.

He was a doyen of the English language. A scholar of sports commentary. His vocabulary and quick-thinking was astonishing.

Despite the email age being in full swing, he wrote me letters after we had got to know each other a little better. On headed paper no less. He even used a Copperplate font to type his address at the top as if to accentuate his old school values.

He would always sign off the letters 'love to the boys', a message for the Echo's sports team who he always supported. He always had time for us, whether it was talking Cherries, his beloved Poole Pirates, Scotty 'Dog' Mitchell or the people he had worked with down the years in newspapers and broadcasting.

I'll miss those letters, his mastery of the English language. I'll miss his warm handshake at the Premier League. They don't make them like Dave Lanning any more, men or sports journalists. He was truly a one-off.