The canary has died. Des Lynam has exited to ITV, clutching a large cheque, and with him has gone the symbolic presence that kept the BBC just about in the game of televising sport.

Des is one of the few television front men who transcend their trade. His was a symbolic presence at the corporation, the face of the place, a Richard Dimbleby for our sports obsessed era. It didn't much matter, as rugby, cricket, motor racing and live football bled away and that, in these past five years, the BBC had ceased to have anything worthwhile to report, as long as Des was there.

He could lend gravitas, he could twinkle for the ladies; he could give his employers the appearance of remaining major television players. As with newsreaders in dinner jackets, we English turned to Des in time of crisis, to read us Kipling when the World Cup turned to ashes, and for comfort when the Ashes were lost once more.

Better still, he was a sports evangelist; people who never showed any interest in the process of putting balls in nets, hoops or holes loved watching Des. Thus he helped the BBC fulfil its democratic remit. And now he's gone.

In truth, it was no surprise he went. Every six months for the past 10 years, burly men from ITV and Sky have turned up at his Brighton home bearing a cheque written on the side of a removal lorry.

Recently he must have sat at home watching Bob Wilson fronting the Champions League on ITV, or Richard Keys presenting the climax of the Premiership on Sky or Mark Nicholas launching Channel 4's sexy new way of covering England cricket defeats and he must have thought: "This should be me, I'm the nation's face of sport. Instead, all he got was Match of the Day and Wimbledon fortnight.

What was the point of resisting all that cash when he was increasingly less able to be at the epicentre of the UK's sports obsession?

Oddly, he leaves a BBC bloated with presentational talent ready to step into his tweed and slacks. Though, let's hope, not the moustache. Steve Rider is almost as unflappable as Des, John Inverdale is as charming and Ian Payne has the potential to be even better than the king. There is no shortage of women either, with Sue Barker and Hazel Irvine sharper and smarter than almost anyone the rivals can put up.

The trouble is, this glittering array have precious little to give us. And Des's departure has only served to expose how empty the Corporation's cupboard is. Greg Dyke, you've got your work cut out.