Robert Craddock writes in the Courier-Mail that he visited Bill Brown the day before he died, as severe pain coursed through his body.
He could barely talk but though breathing heavily I heard him mouth a word which sounded like "whisky". When I asked whether he wanted a drink he nodded, so I dashed to the local bottle shop and got a bottle of Johnnie Walker and two glasses, putting a nip in each.
Then I noticed his eyes were closed and his breathing more subdued. Accepting we had spoken our last words I quietly said: "it's OK old mate, you don't have to drink anything" and I swear I felt my heart slide through the soles of my shoes as I patted his hand.
Then, guess what? His eyes opened and he said: "what do (you) think I am . . . a man or a bloody mouse . . . where's my whisky". His eyebrows arched and his mouth curled up at the corner as it always did when he delivered a cute line. It was one last little treat from the man the cricket world loved.
Mike Coward in the Australian writes that Brown was more than just an Invincible.
Apart from his distinguished playing record, this generous, self-effacing man had further claims to fame. He was the last survivor of the first televised cricket match at Lord's in June, 1938 when he carried his bat for a masterful 206 and identical, controversial run out decisions in successive months against India at Sydney in 1947 led to an immediate addition to the lexicon of the game.
For a man renowned for his fastidiousness on and off the ground it was surprising he repeatedly left the non-striker's crease before the bowler, Vinoo Mankad, delivered the ball. On both occasions in the Australian XI match and the second Test Mankad issued a warning to Brown before removing the bails. Today, this rare form of dismissal is known as Mankading.
