Being at the right place at the right time saw Shaun Young and Michael Whitney make Test debuts in England. It won this writer a chance to play at Lord's.
The invite came from the Cricket Writers Club after another scribe pulled out days before.
It would be an honour to play for it against a names rights holder of the Ashes series.
Who are we kidding? The chance to play at cricket's spiritual home, albeit on the Nursery Ground rather than the hallowed turf, was an opportunity not to be refused even if all my gear was in Melbourne.
Cricket is an expensive game so items were bought according to priority.
This writer still recalls a centre wicket practice session at school where one player, after his pleas to borrow a box from his team-mates were ignored, was hit where said item would have protected.
The final insult was being stumped as he writhed in agony out of his crease. The box was a non negotiable. Everything else could be borrowed.
As the captain of any park cricket club can attest, there is a sense of helplessness when just seven players are there by the toss of the coin.
Fortunately, our captain called correctly and we batted. Our final four rolled up in dribs and drabs.
Playing in my first game since 1998, I was asked to bat at No.7. Lucky I turned up on time. Only five wickets needed to fall and I'd get my chance.
Having seen the rotund Dwayne Leverock do more for the cause of the park hack than any grass roots fundraiser could with his one-handed screamer for Bermuda in the 2007 World Cup, hope sprung eternal for this hack.
After a circumspect start, we reached 80 by the 10th over for the loss of just one wicket.
But the runs dried once our opener reached compulsory retirement at 50.
Wickets did not fall in a hurry either. Only four fell, leaving yours truly padded up with nowhere to go.
Nights out had ended like this before. Now cricket had forsaken me. But games like this are all about involvement. I'd surely get a bowl.
Chasing 156, their innings started in a blaze of glory. After four overs they already had 57 on the board.
I'd fielded steadily rather than brilliantly. Had I been match-hardened, I could have created some half-chances. Alas.
No doubt inspired by my relatively nimble fielding (I'm 28 and our opening bowler was 61), the captain, at cover, told me I'd be used at the death.
I'd bowl overs 15, 17 and 19, or so was my interpretation from deep mid-wicket.
But with nine overs left they needed just 36 more runs - a mere four an over. Or more importantly, for me to bowl we had to keep them below seven an over. I had to field like Jonty Rhodes.
A fellow scribe from Cricinfo England did the right thing. After striking in the 10th over, he conceded only one from the 12th. He would be as good as any to bowl the 14th.
Our left-arm spinner limited the scoring to singles. Not enough to save a lost cause but he was doing the job for his No.7.
With one over before the introduction of the shortest name in cricket, 16 were needed.
My heart sank with the contempt which the first ball was treated. An arrogant swipe over long-on stopped only by a neighbouring house.
Ten off five. Second and third balls, plays and a misses. Then a wild slog behind square for two.
Eight off two but they wanted this over in a hurry. Fifth ball, and a firm straight drive for another two, leaving six required off the last ball.
Though not of express pace, our Cricinfo man had been bowling full and straight. As Joe Blow will tell you, it's very hard to get under a yorker.
Foolishly, he deviated from this plan and unveiled his bouncer. Of slow military medium pace, it was given the punishment it deserved and flat batted over long on for six.
It was last seen sailing above Abbey Road like Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.
And thus my debut appearance at Lord's ended with a DNB and DNB. That's as close to DGB (Donald George Bradman) as I'll ever get.