The infamy from 32 years ago still lingers for Trevor Chappell. The indelible image of Chappell looking like he's impersonating Mick Molloy circa Crackerjack to conclude that match against New Zealand has been continually lampooned over the intermitting years. The furore emanating from the action - it caused a heated diplomatic row - has been replaced by comical connotations.

And Chappell has had to cope with the mirth and the continual fascination ever since. Unlike his older brother Greg - the mastermind of the underarm incident as captain - whose legendary career transcends the incident, Trevor doesn't boast a cricket resume that can overshadow the notoriety. He'll forever be remembered as the cricketer who bowled underarm to save Australia's hide.

But he's not pestered and viewed as a punch line here. It's a place providing welcome serenity. Billboards of Bollywood superstars spruiking watches and other titbits commercialise the streets. Indian restaurants and hawkers abound. The area is a hive of activity. It could be mistaken for a hub in New Delhi. Instead, it's Singapore's sub-continental microcosm - Little India. It is also the area where Chappell abodes during the Australian winter when he takes the reins of Singapore cricket.

"I am not really big on travelling but one good thing about being here is that nobody recognises me," Chappell says.

"The underarm never comes up. People still bring it up in Australia and it is a bit tiresome after a while."

As Singapore's national coach, Chappell is unlikely to garner international recognition, considering cricket is in a parlous state of irrelevancy in the densely populated Southeast Asian country.

Despite being part of Australian cricket royalty, Chappell has always preferred to be in the shadows. Anonymity is his ally. So, the Singaporean gig fits snuggly, and provides an opportunity to coach at a developmental level.

"I prefer coaching youngsters - particularly around 16 to 18 years of age," Chappell says.

"Coaching an international elite team doesn't really appeal to me anymore because it is mainly about managing people. You're not doing too much coaching. It is mainly overseeing players and coaching staff."

Compared to his illustrious older brothers, Chappell had an underwhelming international career, despite his all-round prowess and magnetic fielding. After he retired in the mid-1980s, Chappell became disenchanted with being chained to a cubicle and sought a lifeline back through cricket.

Fortunately, solace was found through coaching. He started at Gordon Women's Cricket Club in Sydney. Eventually, he returned back into the international fraternity as fielding coach with Sri Lanka followed by a stint as head coach of Bangladesh in the early 2000s

"I'm lucky coaching came along because I couldn't bear the thought of office work," he says with a sheepish smile.

Nowadays, he coaches a Parramatta private school's First XI during the Australian summer. After his extensive experience plying his trade in traditional cricket countries, Chappell has found the perils of coaching a minnow nation perplexing at times.

"I have never had my best 11 together during a training session," Chappell laments.

"It is very disjointed and players offer excuses not to train, some of which are probably not legitimate. The players are amateur, so there isn't always the motivation to come to training.

"The work schedule is long and players can't leave work early for cricket here. So, as coach it means having to do things over and over again because we can't get guys together."

Chappell is aware of the difficulties arousing mainstream curiosity in Singapore with its national team mired in the ICC's World Cricket League's division four - a standard he believes is akin to second or third grade cricket in Australia.

"The team bar about three players are expats," Chappell says.

"Cricket needs to capture the attention of the Chinese, which is the ethnic majority in Singapore. There are some good young kids but national service is a major problem because it is compulsory for two years starting at 19.

"They mostly don't return to cricket once their service is complete. Study and work take precedence here."

Chappell believes embracing the burgeoning T20 format could be fundamental to cricket's climb up the Singaporean sporting ladder.

"We are miles away from competing against the established nations but T20 is the only format that would appeal and could help the emergence of cricket in countries like Singapore," he believes.

"They play a lot of softball here, which provides kids with a skill-set akin to cricket. Bowling the straight arm is the hardest to teach."

Singaporean culture has often been derided for being absorbed, even obsessed, with education and business excellence, resulting in the detriment of the arts. Recently, the Singaporean government has placed more emphasis on leisure, in a bid to attract tourists and ensure its citizens are injected with a dose of recreation.

The impetus is hoped to provide cricket with much-needed support, according to Chappell.

"The Government doesn't recognise cricket much, and as a result we have sub-standard facilities," Chappell says.

"There are a few cricket ovals but they are not really developed because there is always that constant fear that the Government will build units or some other development. Land is at a premium in Singapore."

Having worked tirelessly on the dregs, it gnaws at Chappell not having a more active coaching role in Australia. He believes he is being bypassed by a newer, sleeker generation.

"I wouldn't mind being more involved with helping the New South Wales juniors," he says.

"Unfortunately, the cricket associations seem to look at players from the 1970s and ‘80s as from a bygone era. I have tried a few times to get a more prominent gig in Australia but it never progressed anywhere."

In the annals of cricket history, Chappell is likely to be reduced to a trivial footnote. He's the other Chappell. Perhaps finding serendipity with these overseas adventures has provided catharsis.

Maybe, just maybe, the apparitions of that fateful day in 1981 will eventually evaporate.