ind out about cricket legend Don Bradman, the little Australian genius who made a complete mockery of international bowling attacks.
In the world of sport, there occasionally comes a being of superlative skill, whose exploits in the game define him or her as even greater than the great players. Michael Jordan in basketball and boxer Muhammad Ali were two of that mould, breaking through the supposed boundaries of their sport. In the world of cricket, Don Bradman was such a man. At the end of the twentieth century, just over a year before the great man's death, nobody playing the game had got within spitting distance of his unparalleled batting record. He averaged 99.94 in all Test Matches - the five-day form of the game that is regarded as the most demanding. Compare his average to the best of the rest, who hover around the 50-60 mark. There can be little doubt that these others were, and according to those still playing, are, truly great players. Realising that Bradman's Test average is nearly twice their average gives you some idea of the phenomenon that was "˜The Don'.Don Bradman was born in 1908 in a backwater village, near to the city of Sydney in Australia. He found that his school didn't apportion much importance to sport, much to his disappointment. Coupled with a lack of school friends living nearby, he was forced to find ways to amuse himself. He invented a game where he slung a golf ball against a water tank, and, grabbing a cricket stump with both hands, tried to connect with the ball as it zipped back off the tank at some speed and odd angle towards him. He admitted later in life, in his own modest reserved way, that more often than not he was successful in hitting his target. Also, he revealed that many a cricket fantasy was lived out playing that same game.Having honed his hand-eye coordination from a tender age, he was able to test his ability for real soon after leaving school. A local club team, Bowral Town, found themselves a man short when young Bradman was their scorer. He was invited to play and, batting at number ten, scored 37 not out. Soon afterwards he scored a remarkable 300 in one inning. This led to his mother buying him a new bat and an invitation to audition at the Sydney cricket Ground (SCG). He played his first season in Shield cricket for New South Wales in 1927 and scored 118 in his first innings.Word was travelling fast that Don Bradman was an extraordinary run machine. At the age of twenty he was selected to play for Australia against England, and he scored a century in his third test. Records continued to tumble. In a State match he scored a record 452, in record time for good measure. His confidence, concentration and application defined him from other mere mortals.In 1930, Bradman was aboard the ship that set sail - destination England - for another eagerly awaited Ashes series. The journey took the best part of a week, but for Bradman fans it was well worth the wait. In his first Test innings of the tour he scored a memorable 236, including twenty-eight fours. News of the little Australian genius had swept through Britain and as a result attendances swelled to double the usual when he was at the crease. But the English didn't go in the hope of seeing him fail. They, too knew he was a dynamic, relentless run maker and delighted as much as their Aussie counterparts in watching Bradman make a mockery of the English bowling attack. The Don finished the tour with 974 runs from 7 innings, at an average of 139, including the then top Test score of 334.Returning to his native Australia a hero didn't phase Don. He remained modest and unflustered despite thronging crowds, delirious with the team's success. Unbeknownst to him, though, the English were plotting the downfall of Bradman in a way that would shake the very nature of sportsmanship to its foundations. That summer, when England toured Australia in what became known as "˜The Bodyline Series', the situation became so strained that the two countries nearly broke off diplomatic relations.
In the world of sport, there occasionally comes a being of superlative skill, whose exploits in the game define him or her as even greater than the great players. Michael Jordan in basketball and boxer Muhammad Ali were two of that mould, breaking through the supposed boundaries of their sport. In the world of cricket, Don Bradman was such a man. At the end of the twentieth century, just over a year before the great man's death, nobody playing the game had got within spitting distance of his unparalleled batting record. He averaged 99.94 in all Test Matches - the five-day form of the game that is regarded as the most demanding. Compare his average to the best of the rest, who hover around the 50-60 mark. There can be little doubt that these others were, and according to those still playing, are, truly great players. Realising that Bradman's Test average is nearly twice their average gives you some idea of the phenomenon that was "˜The Don'.
Don Bradman was born in 1908 in a backwater village, near to the city of Sydney in Australia. He found that his school didn't apportion much importance to sport, much to his disappointment. Coupled with a lack of school friends living nearby, he was forced to find ways to amuse himself. He invented a game where he slung a golf ball against a water tank, and, grabbing a cricket stump with both hands, tried to connect with the ball as it zipped back off the tank at some speed and odd angle towards him. He admitted later in life, in his own modest reserved way, that more often than not he was successful in hitting his target. Also, he revealed that many a cricket fantasy was lived out playing that same game.
Having honed his hand-eye coordination from a tender age, he was able to test his ability for real soon after leaving school. A local club team, Bowral Town, found themselves a man short when young Bradman was their scorer. He was invited to play and, batting at number ten, scored 37 not out. Soon afterwards he scored a remarkable 300 in one inning. This led to his mother buying him a new bat and an invitation to audition at the Sydney cricket Ground (SCG). He played his first season in Shield cricket for New South Wales in 1927 and scored 118 in his first innings.
Word was travelling fast that Don Bradman was an extraordinary run machine. At the age of twenty he was selected to play for Australia against England, and he scored a century in his third test. Records continued to tumble. In a State match he scored a record 452, in record time for good measure. His confidence, concentration and application defined him from other mere mortals.
In 1930, Bradman was aboard the ship that set sail - destination England - for another eagerly awaited Ashes series. The journey took the best part of a week, but for Bradman fans it was well worth the wait. In his first Test innings of the tour he scored a memorable 236, including twenty-eight fours. News of the little Australian genius had swept through Britain and as a result attendances swelled to double the usual when he was at the crease. But the English didn't go in the hope of seeing him fail. They, too knew he was a dynamic, relentless run maker and delighted as much as their Aussie counterparts in watching Bradman make a mockery of the English bowling attack. The Don finished the tour with 974 runs from 7 innings, at an average of 139, including the then top Test score of 334.
Returning to his native Australia a hero didn't phase Don. He remained modest and unflustered despite thronging crowds, delirious with the team's success. Unbeknownst to him, though, the English were plotting the downfall of Bradman in a way that would shake the very nature of sportsmanship to its foundations. That summer, when England toured Australia in what became known as "˜The Bodyline Series', the situation became so strained that the two countries nearly broke off diplomatic relations.
Leg theory, as the English preferred to call it, was a system devised by the captain of the side at the time, Douglas Jardine. The idea was for the bowler to aim a short-pitched ball at the chest, throat and head of the opposing batsman, with the majority of his fielders placed on the leg side. The anticipated result was one of the batsman fending the dangerous ball away, giving a catch to one of the aforementioned fielders. The England captain decided upon leg theory because he believed (wrongly in most people's view) that Bradman was a coward. It is true that at first Bradman struggled against this unique and often dangerous form of attack - remember, in the 1930's there were no helmets, chest guards or arm guards, such as those evident in the modern game. The fans still believed in Bradman though and flocked to see him at the second test. With a range of improvised strokes he dominated the leg theory attack, yet the home team were still unhappy at the way England played, as several of their players had received blows to the head, back and chest. Eventually, because of Bradman's ability to deal with Bodyline and the Australian crowds vehement disapproval, Jardine was forced to abandon it in favour of a more orthodox plan. The Don ONLY averaged 56.57 in that series.
After achieving a merely excellent average in 1932 Don Bradman returned to amassing huge totals, especially against England but also West Indies and South Africa. In 1936 he was made captain of the national side, but that didn't really seem to benefit the Aussies. Perhaps that was Bradman's one true weakness - he wasn't a great leader of men. He would let his bat do the talking and remain quiet and somewhat aloof in the dressing room. Also, his presence as captain may have stifled the constructive opinion of others. In that year England were 2-0 up in the five match series. Bradman came to the wicket and scored 270, the innings that many declare to be his best. That gave them the platform to go on and win the series 3-2.
World War Two broke out and deprived the world of a true sporting great for several years. As soon as cricket resumed, The Don was at it again, scoring 234 against England while injured. A year later he scored 187 not out, when Australia chased four hundred runs in a day and won on a terrible batting surface.
Bradman played his last Test in England, 1948. He needed four runs to have an overall Test average of one hundred. It wasn't to be though - he was out second ball for zero, finishing with an incomparable average of 99.94. A year later he played his last game at the SCG (his favourite ground) and, fittingly, was given a huge standing ovation.
To mention every great Bradman innings would become tedious to the reader, such was the monotony with which he churned them out. It cannot be overstated how good the small-boned, lithe Australian was though. His success came from many hours dedicated application coupled with excellent natural abilities. What I personally liked about him though, was his modesty concerning his achievements in the game, a trait many sportsmen not half as good would do well to learn.
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