When it came to pure sporting commentary, the late Richie Benaud knew what the viewer wanted. That, obviously, was to impart wisdom on what really was unfolding on the cricket field, whether that be team tactics or what may have been racing through the minds of the men with willow or ball in hand.

What set him apart, however, and what many broadcasters have since tried to adopt, was the ability to succinctly describe a moment, or just let the stroke or delivery and crowd reaction speak for itself.

While Bruce McAvaney​, another of Australia's greatest sporting voices, never sat alongside Benaud, he learnt from the former Australian captain the importance of a well-time moment of silence.

"I wonder how he learnt that. He certainly had a unique style," McAvaney, the face of Channel Seven's AFL and Olympics coverage, said on Friday.

"I am as guilty as anybody – we all fall for traps on air. It's just so difficult not to. Whether it's over talking, or getting carried away with the moment, or being ill-disciplined, or whatever – certainly I have done all three – but I am not sure if Richie ever did.

"There has never been the perfect broadcaster but he certainly played the straight bat. There was no room between bat and pad. There was just beautiful stuff.

"I think the thing where his absolute value lies is that here I am, and I will never call cricket, and yet I feel I have learnt a lot from him. It was a very different event he was calling, different sport with a different technique, but the way he went about it was a lesson for all of us."

When Channel Nine kingpin, the late Kerry Packer, rolled out the breakaway World Series Cricket in 1977, the dapper looking Benaud also spruced up how the sport was presented.

Gone was the staid look of the ABC. In was Benaud's flourish of beige, blue and white suit jackets – encapsulating a vibrant new era of cricket coverage – and the warm opening to the day's play: "Morning everyone."

Just as his captaincy had been inventive, so too was life in a commentary box which would also hold Bill Lawry, Ian Chappell and the late Tony Greig.

"Richie was disciplined. The clarity, the brevity, and the credibility – it was all over him. The sense of humour, he could pick the moment, the rhythm was superb, knowledge second to none," McAvaney said.

"He was one of those blokes that when you said something, he listened. He provoked and evoked thought, discussion. He was always interesting. He was never banal. It was never generic. It was always cutting."

Benaud's "marvellous stroke, that" was used to encapsulate many a grand flourish, and was perhaps given the ultimate compliment with hilarious imitations through Billy Birmingham's 12th Man routine. This effectively turned Benaud – as the lead man on the commentary – into a cult. How many commentators before or after him could boast such a profile?

Where many commentators are respected, few, if any, as McAvaney noted, have been as well loved. And that includes by those judging sports commentary awards.

Where some would send in reams of tape, with Benaud all that was needed, as was the case ahead of the 1999 Logies, was his short description of Shane Warne's bowling technique.

Many have approached Benaud for his 10 golden rules of broadcasting, and all were afforded some wise words.

"As a veteran broadcaster myself now, I couldn't speak more highly of the way he went about his work. I am in awe of him, to be truthful," McAvaney said.

Having enjoyed the northern and summer hemisphere summers for so long, his 42 years on air in England ended during the almost surreal 2005 Ashes series, when the English broadcast rights soon shifted from Channel 4 to pay television's Sky Sports.

His standing in the game was reinforced when during a break in play on the final day of the fifth Test at The Oval, a public address alerted players and supporters to the fact that Benaud had just concluded his final stint behind the microphone. Fittingly, he was given a standing ovation.

In recent years, Benaud had taken on a reduced role with Nine, sadly hastened by a car accident and his battle with cancer. He may now be gone but, certainly, he will not be forgotten.

"He was the benchmark when he was alive and he'll be the benchmark from this moment on," McAvaney said.