The boy from Macksville, a small town pocketed between Sydney and Brisbane, formed a habit. With each century scored, he would collect the match ball, scribble the date and score by the seam. They filled up baskets. His father – a banana farmer who set up the bowling machine, drove him around, did whatever love asks – reckoned he had hit 68 or 70 hundreds before leaving home at the age of 17.
The runs, never-ending, turned him into an almost mythical creature, a whisper that travelled through towns and into the city. As a 12-year-old he shared a player of the competition award with a 37-year-old.
