Young Bradman

121 did, he made his ‘prolific scores with such incredible regularity’. All these were the considered opinions from well-informed and intelligent men. These and other writings came with drawbacks; like all writers, those men knew they would have to stand by their words. They were, in effect, showing their best forward defensive strokes, for an audience. At least as worthwhile are recorded spoken reminiscences. Again, whoever was interviewed knew they had to be careful with their words – and properly so; yet the sheer speed and flow of talking compared with writing might lead to the equivalent of the risky shot that Dr Barbour wrote of; perhaps bad for the batsman, but interesting to watch. For the 1988 ABC interview, Norman May played to Bradman a recording of the long-dead Vic Richardson, the 1930 tour vice-captain: Well, he had co-ordination of eye and muscle and terrific judgement from the moment the ball left the hand, as to where it was going to pitch, earlier than most players, and he was able to put himself into position to make a shot and he was also so quick on his feet that if he was in the wrong position he could change it, little feet, and he had smallish hands and … whilst we’re talking about him as a batsman, I consider him the greatest outfield that ever lived. Don in 1930 did some of the most fabulous things I have ever seen, he used to field down at fine leg for the fastest bowlers and go up to mid off for the other bowler at the other end, like Fairfax, and even Hobbs and Sutcliffe who turned the ball away towards square leg, out towards the fence, if Don was out there they would only get one. He would hit the wicket I would say five out of ten times on the boundary. And then when he went to mid off if the ball was pushed down there I used to field up at silly point, and the moment the ball passed me I used to go flat on my face on the ground; if I didn’t,… he would hit the wicket I would say nine times out of ten from mid off. While few have made much of Bradman the fielder, to Richardson it evidently mattered; on tour they were in company on the field far longer as fielders than batsmen – and flattening yourself on English grass to save you from injury must have been memorable!? Bradman answered: Well, in those days I was young and energetic and I loved fielding on the boundary. This is one of the legacies of watching Johnny Taylor on the Sydney Cricket Ground in 1921 in the outfield. It inspired me, I really loved fielding on the boundary, one of the joys of cricket. In those strikingly warm words, Bradman comes across, in Richardson’s recollection and his own, as thoroughly 21 st century in his skill and enthusiasm for fielding, a part of cricket under-appreciated, because under-measured, even unmeasurable, in the game in general. Has anyone counted how many batsmen Bradman ran out? Who can say how many runs he saved? A man on the boundary was furthest from the rest of the team – or was that part of the attraction? Or did he simply like outfielding – which he said was one of the things he missed, when captain, and standing in the covers. As with some of the main arguments about him – whether How did he do it?