I'll never forget the first time I spoke to Max Walker, because I felt like I was in a 12th Man sketch.

It was May 2007, and I was working on a feature on Australian Test cricketers who had also played AFL football. It was not the kind of story that needed interviews, but it did require illustration. Max was one of the most recent players to have achieved the double, and he had his own website with a photo gallery.

So one Friday afternoon I filled in the contact form, politely asking permission to use one of his photos, expecting an email reply from whoever managed Max's website, hopefully granting permission to use the photo. The weekend came and went, and by Monday morning my attention was on other work, and I had temporarily forgotten about the feature. Until my phone rang.

A distinctive voice said: "Hello Brydon, it's Max Walker here."

For years, I'd had a running in-joke with one of my cricket-loving mates to answer phone calls in the style of Billy Birmingham. "Hheeeello, Max Walker," we'd say. To which the caller, mimicking the Wired World of Sports II script, would reply: "Max, it's Richie Benaud."

The next line from that sketch - "Yeah, bullshit, who is it?" - was pretty much what I felt like saying myself. I had been with Cricinfo, as it was then, barely six months, and by cricket media standards was a complete nobody. But remembering my email from a few days earlier, I twigged that Max Walker really had dialled my number.

"He always had a way with words, hence his success as an after-dinner speaker and author of anecdotes. But as an architect and avid photographer, he also had an eye for the visual"

Instantly he put me at ease. Sure, I could use the photo, but Max just wanted to talk footy. How the legendary coach Norm Smith had come to Tasmania to sign him, how he moved to Melbourne for football first, architecture second, and cricket third, but eventually realised he had to let one of his passions go and gave up football. He tried to name as many others as he could who had achieved the football-cricket double. He mentally filed away a couple of names I gave him that he didn't know.

And then - 12th Man fans will appreciate this moment of life imitating art imitating life - he asked me if I had a copy of his new book. I kid you not. In Wired World of Sports II, Richie Benaud replies to the same question tersely: "Of course I haven't". Despite Richie's protests, Max insists on sending him a copy anyway. I was much more polite, and was grateful when a week later a parcel arrived in the post - a copy of Caps, Hats and Helmets, along with a signed note thanking me for my interest.

I made a mental note to ring Max back one day for a wider interview, and four years later I finally got around to it. He was open to speaking about anything. How the touring lifestyle of a Test cricketer led to the breakdown of his first marriage. How he and his mother struggled with the death of his sister Lexie, at just 38, and how the humour of the 12th Man parodies helped his mother through the grief.

Suit up, Tangles: Walker tries to demonstrate his bowling action in a Melbourne street ESPNcricinfo Ltd

Notably, he was forward thinking. He wondered out loud if Test cricket was in danger of being killed off, and suggested reducing it to four days, with some of the match played at night. And unlike many ex-cricketers who believe that your opinion only matters if you have a Test cap, he suggested that the Argus Review (ongoing at the time) needed more insight from non-cricketers. "There's a tendency to think, he's a legend, and he's a legend, so they ought to know. But that's not necessarily the case in life," he said.

Poignantly, he also spoke of how for more than four decades his life had been centred around the MCG. While a student of architecture, he also worked as an apprentice painting the MCG seats, and at one stage operated the old scoreboard that has now been moved to Manuka Oval in Canberra. "I go to the MCG so much even these days, to speak at conferences or launches," he said. "It's great to be able to look out the window and unlock a filing cabinet of memories."

He always had a way with words, hence his success as an after-dinner speaker and author of anecdotes. But as an architect and avid photographer, he also had an eye for the visual. After our interview in the café of the RACV Club in central Melbourne, I asked if I could take a photo to go with the story. Walker remains the only subject I have ever photographed who set up the framing himself. He wanted something distinctly "Melbourne", so we set up on the tram tracks as a tram went by.

And then he decided to have a bit of fun. "How about I give you a bit of the old bowling action?" he said, duly posing with the fingers upright in correct seam position. "Or a bit of hoooowzaaaat?" Crappy photographer that I am, I didn't manage to get these action shots in focus, so I didn't use them for the interview. All the same, they capture the sense of fun that was such a clear feature of Max's personality. He was not only willing to poke fun at himself, he actively wanted to.

I feel greatly privileged to have had my moments with Max Walker. I know I'm not alone. Especially remarkable was this reader comment published on News Ltd's online story of his passing on Tuesday:

As an 11 year old seeking autographs after a World Series game at VFL Park my brother and a couple of mates missed the last bus to the station (we lived in Altona!) Max Walker gave us a lift to Glen Waverley station in his Statesman. We could not believe it, have never forgotten how great and friendly he was. The memories outweigh any punishment received when we got home after midnight. RIP Tangles and thanks again."

Always putting people at ease, was Big Max.