David Shepherd, who has died of cancer, aged 68, was one of the most recognisable figures in international cricket.

A proud Devonian with a Bunteresque appetite and a superstitious nature, he was both in thrall to the game from an early age and provided enormous service to its reputation as a player and umpire.

One of life’s cordial characters, he hated confrontation and chided himself when he got a decision wrong, but he was hugely respected throughout the sport and, as his esteemed Australian counterpart, Simon Taufel, said: “His umpiring record speaks for itself”.

Taufel added: “My fondest memories will be of Shep the man – a true gentleman, a kind spirit and a great bloke. We had a deal going with each other when we toured: I would do an extra lap for him in the gym and he would have an extra scoop of ice cream at the end of the day’s play for me.” It was an arrangement which ideally suited both parties.

In statistical terms, Shepherd was among the best officials of his generation, standing in 92 Test matches and 172 one-day international games between 1983 and 2005.

Prior to donning the white coat, he had been an effective and frequently belligerent batsman in Gloucestershire’s cause, amassing 12 centuries in his aggregate of 10,672 first-class runs, while participating in 282 matches for the county, prior to retiring as a player in 1979.

If he delighted spectators in the West Country with his idiosyncratic approach and jovial manner off the field, his friends knew that his bluff exterior belied a man who took cricket seriously, and who occasionally resorted to chain-smoking to soothe his nerves, while he waited for his opportunity to walk to the crease.

He was also extremely superstitious, which helped explain his most famous trademark. “When the score was on 111, 222 or 333, David would be hopping about on one leg and everybody in the dressing room had to do the same,” said the Gloucestershire chairman, John Light.

“It went back to his days as a player and he persuaded his team mates and club officials to follow suit. We all did it in the committee room as well, and when we did it we said: ‘Shep would have us dancing.’ So we did it and we’ll keep on doing it.”

As a youngster, he went to Barnstaple Grammar School and ended up as head boy, while demonstrating his prowess, both in cricket and rugby, turning out – rather surprisingly, given his subsequent physical development – at scrum-half for South Molton.

Later, he became a teacher, after studying at St Luke’s College in Exeter, but soon swapped academia for sport and joined Gloucestershire in 1965. He was a decent, not great, player, and some of the more po-faced committee men frowned on his increasing girth, but their insistence on forcing him to compete in long-distance athletics was doomed to failure, as cricket biographer David Foot testified. “On one cross-country run, when he usually brought up the rear, he was caught out by his captain and team mates, who were hiding in a bush, as he sheepishly went past them in a milk float.”

However, Shepherd found his true niche when he turned to umpiring. He knew the players, empathised with their efforts and commanded respect without having to indulge in the histrionics of a Dickie Bird or Billy Bowden. He was scornful of the (thankfully small number of) cheats within the sport, and seemed equally at home on a sparsely attended April morning in Bristol as he was at the grandest international venues.

Like any other official, he made mistakes. On the rare occasions when these errors happened, everybody accepted his integrity was unimpeachable.

In short, he was loved and admired throughout cricket, as the Scotland and Warwickshire all-rounder, Dougie Brown, declared. “Shep was honest, passionate about the game, funny when he met with the players for a quiet drink after stumps and he was somebody who made you feel better about life. We’ll all miss him.”