by Mayukh Ghosh

August 1963.

Bill Lawry recommends the young leg-spinner's name to prime minister Robert Menzies.

Sessions under the watchful eyes of the great Clarrie Grimmett.

Initially, this 23-year old pays the airfare to Adelaide. And there he manages to find the cheapest hotel.

The sessions go well.

Robert Menzies repays the £200 investment when the young man returns home.

But the young man does not look happy and assured. His cricket career looks to be in jeopardy.

September 1963.

He loses his job. He is newly married and his wife supports them by working part-time at a Catholic school.

He remains unemployed for four months.

"The toughest period of my life. In those days, being unemployed was a real stigma. People'd say " Don't ya wanna work, you lazy bugger?"", he later recalled.

Then he gets a job selling office equipment.

His cricket, though, is not going anywhere.

A leg-spinner who can bat decently. But not really making a mark in any way.

New Year's Test, 1969.

At 12:42 on the second day, after dismissing West Indies for 264, as the Australians are leaving the field, Bill Lawry turns to our man and says: "I want you to put your pads on."

A lunch-watchman?

That's what he thinks initially.

But he finds comfort in doing the job. Three consecutive fifties and finally the Test career takes off.

February 1971.

The day after the conclusion of the Adelaide Test, the phone rings in the room shared by two Victorians.

Ian Redpath and Keith Stackpole.

Stackpole picks it up.

"Is Bill around?", asks cricket writer Alan Shiell.

"No, he's not. Why?"

"Well, Bill's been dropped and Chappell's been made the captain."

Stackpole puts the phone down, delivers the news to Redpath, and asks, " Jeez, how are we gonna tell him?"

A knock on the door can be heard.