Until now, Number 96 was merely a raunchy television show from the 1970s.
It has been given an altogether different meaning by Chris 'Bucky' Rogers, who overcame a soap opera of his own four runs short of three figures to complete his first Test century at Durham on Saturday.
Born in the same year the controversial program was cancelled the veteran opener had staged a gutsy fightback with a 129-run partnership with Shane Watson (68) rescuing Australia after a top-order collapse brought about by England's token villain Stuart Broad.
Reeling at 2-12 and then 4-76 on day two of the fourth Ashes Test, England's modest total of 238 all of a sudden appeared imposing but thanks to Rogers (101 not out) and Watson, reuniting after being displaced in this match as Australia's opening pair, the tourists recovered to be 5-222 when bad light led to play being abandoned late in the day.
Rogers, at 35 years and 344 days, became the oldest Australian to score a maiden Test hundred since Arthur Richardson at Leeds in 1926 and it will not surprise if he has a few extra grey hairs after his ordeal in the mid-nineties.
The left-hander, out for 84 in the third Test at Manchester, spent what seemed an eternity - it was 19 balls and half an hour - stalled on 96, and was close to falling twice on that number to the man who bowled every one of those deliveries, English spinner Graeme Swann.
First, a leading edge lobbed fortunately just in front of Broad at mid-on, then, stuck to his crease, he fractionally avoided having his off stump cleaned up. It was a far cry from the masterful display of concentration and patience that had been the hallmark of Rogers' innings in difficult conditions, but showed that even a man with 60 first-class centuries to his name could get the jitters.
Mercifully, Rogers put himself and everyone else out of their misery with the one swing, sweeping Swann to the square leg boundary for four.
Extravagant: skipper Michael Clarke edges a ball to slip. Photo: Reuters
"I didn't have a care in the world," Rogers joked of his nervous nineties ordeal. "No, it was a nervous time. I got the score in the last game (at Old Trafford) and thought that was maybe my opportunity and just got to the nineties and the England boys were saying 'if you don't get it now, you may never'. It was just a fantastic moment to finally get it."
Rogers' celebration was restrained, indicative of enormous relief. This had been a long time coming, and he admitted his dozens of journeys to three figures at domestic level, many in England, had done nothing to calm the tension.
"They don't count for a thing," he said. "In some respects it makes it harder because after all this time you're fully aware how much it means. To get a hundred playing for your country is just a magnificent feeling. I'm so happy and so relieved I got it.
"I'm not a huge celebrator but I guess after all this time playing a lot of domestic cricket, to get this opportunity is one that I never thought I would, and to get a hundred is just something you can only dream of. I guess you just want to soak it up and that's probably why I was like that."
In overcast and cool conditions in England's north-east Broad earlier (4-48) had the ball seaming around like a rookie dressmaker on a Janome.
David Warner (3), Usman Khawaja (0) and Michael Clarke (6) all fell under his spell, probably the best from any bowler this series, and Steve Smith (17) came unstuck poking at Tim Bresnan.
In the midst of that onslaught Rogers had to overcome more hurdles than a steeplechaser to chart his course through the day. He played and missed repeatedly, following those scares with his characteristic pacing out to short of square leg to clear his head.
There was a very close shave on 20 when he was given out, caught behind off Broad, only for the decision to be correctly overturned when he reviewed it. The ball in question had hit Rogers' back pad, not his bat, but it turned out that had umpire Tony Hill triggered him for lbw in the first place, not the alleged nick to Matt Prior, he would have been on his way.
Rogers was then dropped in the slips by a diving Swann on 49, bringing up his half-century with the resulting scurried single. That was nothing on the torture he would endure in the nineties, of course, but showed while determination was the central feature of his innings, luck played a part as well.
Watson, too, was put down when on five, and early on was as edgy as an HBO drama.
But like his former opening partner he managed to see his way past the best of Broad and the worst of the Chester-le-Street wicket. By mid-afternoon the all-rounder was opening those considerable shoulders, cutting Bresnan through point and heaving James Anderson via midwicket for boundaries as he approached his first fifty of the series, and then after tea driving Anderson to the long-off rope like a tracer bullet.
Watson would not have been thrilled about dropping down the order - he had not batted as low as No.6 since 2008 and makes no secret of his desire to open - but after witnessing Broad's early carnage from the team balcony the move looked a blessing in disguise.
Through his defiance, Rogers was the annoying friend of a friend you can't shake at the pub, tucking away the bad balls and keeping out the good, while Watson was the bloke who at everyone's urging puts down his pint, picks up a guitar and upstages the band of the night. (For the record, Watson actually did that in Liverpool after the third Test - entertaining punters at the city's famous Cavern Club last week with a rendition of The Killers' Mr Brightside.)
His performance on Saturday was music to the ears of those, chiefly coach Darren Lehmann, who have drummed home his value to this Australian side amid criticism of his batting output.
The fireworks aside this was actually his most composed display in recent memory, played exactly as the circumstances demanded to help haul Australia back from the brink.
As well as he played he will be disappointed to have wasted an opportunity to land a century of his own, stopped short when Broad induced a catch down the leg side. Watson's record for being as good a converter, from fifties to hundreds, as a broken calculator has not been blown away but he could be proud of his fine innings.