England had several nightmares during the 1990s, but none was more head-shakingly, please-let-me-wake-up-from-this unbelievable, than what happened on their last visit to Auckland five years ago. You couldn't make it up, and if you did, your editor would fire you for going over the top. It was the first Test of the series, and shortly after lunch on the final day New Zealand had slumped to 142 for 9. They led England by just 11 runs, and although Nathan Astle could hang around, the last man in was Danny Morrison, who made Devon Malcolm look like Jack Hobbs, and who in 70 Test innings to that point had registered a world-record 24 ducks. The sun was shining and England began to practise their golf swings.

But those bonus 18 holes would never happen. Two-and-three-quarter hours later Morrison was still there, having mounted one of the most improbable rearguards of all time and added 106 for the last wicket with Astle. England staggered off in disbelief, like lottery winners who had lost their ticket. Morrison staggered off in disbelief too, as if that ticket had just turned up in his back pocket.

Morrison, now a pundit for New Zealand's TV3 and Sky Sports, remembers the day with crystal clarity and a humorous glint in his eye. "I never felt anxious, because there was no expectation," he laughs. "We never thought we were going to save the game. I just said, `Look Nath, I'm here for you, mate. You can go berserk if you want. Just see how it goes.' After 20 minutes, we said `Our next stage has got to be the drinks break. Let's just pee these guys off a bit.'"

His tactics were straightforward enough. "I thought I don't mind if it hits me," says Morrison, animatedly. "I'll just get into line, and try to keep the gloves out of the way if it's short, and try to leave as much as possible. So I was just blocking at one end, and Nathan was boofing a boundary an over at the other."

England's attack that day consisted of Darren Gough, Alan Mullally, Craig White, Dominic Cork and Phil Tufnell, but no-one could find a ball good enough to send back Test cricket's rabbit-in-chief. "Goughie tried to reverse-york me," says Morrison, "so I stood out of the crease a little bit. And when Tuffers came on he just bowled a bit too flat. But at no time really did England start to get flustered. It was amazing."

That was because everyone expected each ball would be the last. Morrison was well aware what the England team thought of him. "When I walked out to bat, Athers said, `Ah, here he comes, with his sunglasses on, looking like one of the Chips cops.' It was all really relaxed. Nick Knight in close was going on about getting Nashy [Dion Nash] out here with some cold toast, because in my pen-portraits I'd said Nashy was a bit of a pest in the dressing-room, and that I didn't particularly like overdone cold toast. They were just trying to get me to laugh and relax and slog it up in the air. Game over, let's go and play golf."

As the reality of what he was doing dawned on Morrison, he began to laugh so hard that he developed stomach cramps. But not everyone saw the funny side of it. "I said I wouldn't mind stopping the game to get some salt tablets, and a drink. But Stewie [Alec Stewart] said, `No, Athers, don't be soft. Don't give in. Don't let him.' He was quite serious."

So at what stage did Morrison think the game was there for the saving? He laughs. "At tea-time I came off and saw Blair Pocock [who opened for New Zealand in that Test]. I winked at him, and said `Piece of piss, we'll save this one, Nath and I,' and he just looked at me … There was still a session to go, and I was just being facetious really. I didn't realise until afterwards that David Lloyd, their coach, was getting a bit toey.

"But then again the players weren't getting too panicky. Tuffers was a bit wound up and was bowling too flat. But at the end, when he got it right, it turned and bounced like a tennis ball. I remember Nath getting a couple through the top that hit him on the shoulder. I heard later that Goughie had said, 'Sorry skip, I've run out of puff.' He was bowling good yorkers, and you knew he was going to try and york you or whip one through on a length. You just had to try and nullify that. The pitch was pretty dead and flat, and had panned right out. Eden Park's always been slowish and lowish, anyway. So that was in your favour." He pauses, before adding modestly, "When you look back on it lots of things were in your favour."

It wasn't even as if England had him in any trouble. "They still had two guys on the off side and one under the helmet. But the worst that happened were a couple of inside edges onto my back leg that hit my boot and rolled past the stumps. No real chances, though."

What made Morrison's feat all the more incredible was that Astle was quite happy to give him the strike – exactly 50% of it. By the time the players shook hands at 4.55pm, Astle (102*) and Morrison (14*) had each faced 133 balls. It smashed New Zealand's previous best for the tenth wicket against England of 57, by Frank Mooney and Jack Cowie at Headingley back in 1949, and by now the England fielders had turned a sickly shade of white. "It was like, has this really happened?" says Morrison. "It was a bit of a dream."

But there was still time for one more twist in the tale. "Unbeknown to me, it was going to be my last Test," he says with more than a hint of resentment. "That was a little bit gut-wrenching. Steve Rixon [then the coach] wanted to mould a younger team, and guys like me and Mark Greatbatch were the older ones. But it would have been nice to have sat down and talked about it with someone from New Zealand Cricket. The convenor of selectors at the time, Ross Dykes, just rang me with a helicopter going overhead and we had a poor conversation on a mobile phone."

Morrison made his name as a fast bowler, but his last act was to deny England with the bat. "Quite ironical," he says, with a wink. "Basically, I was just a little short-arsed guy with a bit of a heart who ran in and tried to bowl quick outswingers. And that's how I'd like to be remembered – as someone who gave it his all."

The England players that day will always remember him for a different reason.

Lawrence Booth is assistant editor of Wisden.com.

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