I twice called on him, in 1988 and 1992 (I believe it was). What a gentleman. We talked in the living room, with a big photo on the wall of a single person on the Hill on the final morning of one of his triumphs. The second time was the day of the World Cup semi-final with South Africa. I pleaded, in vain, for him to join me. “They’d recognize me,” he said. “No, they wouldn’t,” said I. “Anyway,” he said, “I can’t see.”
He proudly told me “You’re sitting where Hutton and Truman sat.”
I look forward to reading this book. I don’t need any convincing that those whining Aussies were, and are, sore losers. And why wasn’t it bodyline when Lindwall and Miller tried to knock the blocks off England in 1948.?” “Bradman, bowled Hollies Nought.” And so on. And so on.
Michael Prentice, Ottawa, Canada