“I don’t like exclamation marks as a rule, but this one’s unavoidable. Playing against Neil Harvey! I’d read Arthur Mailey’s poignant essay about playing against his hero, Vic Trumper. If I’d earlier found Mailey’s near-hysterical countdown a bit over the top, I didn’t think so now. So, God, please don’t let it rain.

"I’ll keep it brief. Harvey back-cut a ball, which I chased. Picking it up near the pickets, I gazed at it. Gosh, this ball had just been stroked by Neil Harvey! Our wicket-keeper was screaming, 'Come on, Frithy! Throw the bloody thing in!' I did, shamefaced at the silly delay. Then our off-spinner annoyingly dismissed Neil for 10.

"On the second Saturday I got in. ABC Radio were experimenting with live broadcasts from grade matches. My old scrapbook shows that I scored 29 in 100 minutes, a dreary effort that may well have been solely responsible for the abandonment of the commentary idea. What must Neil Harvey have thought? What really matters, though, is how my precious innings ended. Harvey bowled a curving off spinner outside leg. I tried to glance it, but that ball was loaded. It swerved, what, two feet? Well, two or three inches anyway. Maybe there’s something wrong with me, but I left that field slightly elated.”