My Mate Steve Irwin: Before the Khaki, Camers and Hollywood

I don't quite know how it all happened. One moment I was laughing with my teenage surfing buddy Stevo as he got hammered by the suckiest waves ever at Currimundi Beach, on Queensland's Sunshine Coast, the next I was grinning next to him in my best man's suit at his wedding in Oregon.

Stevo was my best mate: we used to sink beers, climb trees and generally act like silly buggers. Our friendship deepened. We stopped acting like larrikins and we trusted each other with our lives – although we still sank Bundy Rum chasers around the campfire after we'd been catching crocs. So why did I force him to choose between his wife and his best man?

I wrote this book to help people understand Steve's motivation, his personality, and his genuine spirit. I knew that I could offer fresh insight into the bloke, the surfie, the footy player, the reptile lover, the life of the party, the hard worker, the mate. My mate. A bloke who was in to conservation long before he became The Crocodile Hunter.