KEY POINTS:
Craig McMillan, like his brother-in-law Nathan Astle last year, has lifted the lid on some of the more dubious aspects of John Bracewell's regime. In the end he's probably done as much to strengthen his critics' belief that at times he was his own worst enemy.
Out of the Park, released last week, is an entertaining jaunt through McMillan's tribulations and trials, the latter seemingly coinciding with the appointment of Bracewell in 2004.
Bracewell had been McMillan's coach on a youth tour to England in 1996, prompting the Cantabrian to recall: "It was on that that I got an insight into one part of his personality - he doesn't like to admit when he gets things wrong." Funnily enough, that's an accusation just as easily levelled at McMillan.
Still, this is his book and his chance to get a few things off his chest. The dreaded peer review system looms large.
It's hard not to sympathise with McMillan here. Being asked to leave a room and think of words to describe yourself while the rest of the team did the same exercise sounds like kidology at best and patronising excreta at worst.
". . . three words which I thought the group would use to describe me - I chose 'competitive', 'stubborn' and 'distant'," wrote McMillan. "The three I selected as those I wanted the group to use were 'competitive', 'team player' and 'renewed'."
Just why you would want your team to describe you as a library book that took longer than expected to read is for McMillan to say. But he guessed his teammates wanted him to "stop being closed off" and, when a group led by Stephen Fleming came back with far more exacting demands, it's fair to say McMillan's sense of humour ran out.
"The three words they used were 'competitive', 'stubborn' and 'self-centred'. I was judged guilty of only looking after myself. It was recommended I give to others with both actions and attitude, be internally driven, look after my diet and fitness and open my mind to different points of view." Ouch.
Without any claim to being a human resources expert, shouldn't effective management deal with these issues before they become so vexing adults are made to sit squirming in front of their 'mates'?
If McMillan's gripe seems justified, others aren't so convincing. In team sports you have to do things you might not necessarily agree with, like shaving for a photo, or switching music off (or batting out of your favourite position).
The rules might seem draconian but remember how well New Zealand did in the anything-goes days of the mid-90s? In this regard McMillan seems unnecessarily intransigent.
His batting was a thing to behold: maverick, maddening, muscular and magnificent - all sometimes within the space of an over.
He is, too, a mass of contradictions. His resilience is evident in his ability to become a world-class sportsman despite the significant handicap of Type 1 diabetes, yet he is unusually sensitive to criticism, even for a sportsman.
He is a deep thinker of the game - I recall John R. Reid, who wrote the foreword, telling this newspaper he would make an excellent international captain - yet is more prone than most to brain explosions at the crease.
His mistrust, or plain dislike, of the media was well known, yet he is carving out a nice little niche for himself in that same industry now.
Say what you want about McMillan - and everyone has over the years - but you can't deny he was entertaining.
It still seems like there's something missing, even now, when the fourth wicket falls and there is no longer a slightly rotund, sweatered right-hander striding to the crease with a hint of menace in his eye.
