Young Bradman

60 New South Wales of the 1924/25 series against England; only Grimmett made it to England in 1926. What if Bradman had missed out, even if unfairly, as Kippax did in 1926? Douglas Jardine would have had no reason to apply bodyline; by the 1932/33 MCC tour, Bradman might have lost heart anyway. Kippax won the toss on Friday 16 December and batted. Bradman did not go in until two overs before tea, when New South Wales were 250 for four, and Kippax had retired unwell. Adelaide was going through a week’s heat-wave. ‘Bradman opened his score with a pull to the boundary from Grimmett,’ the Sydney Morning Herald reported, knowing well what a ‘severe test’ Bradman faced from Grimmett, then Australia’s premier bowler, on his home ground. The Herald praised Bradman’s footwork – ‘to miss would have been fatal, but the former Bowral phenomenon always had the bat there’ – and ‘mastery of new strokes’ learned since he joined St George. New South Wales ended the day on 400 for seven, Kippax on 81 (having returned, and retired a second time), and Bradman 65 not out. Going out to bat next day, they copied an idea from Oldfield, the day before; they wore Panama hats to at least shade their faces; all week the temperature was above 90º F in the shade before the start of play at 11.30 am. Bradman and Kippax added 111; both ‘were jumping out to the pitch of the ball from Grimmett, often making them full tosses’. Bradman was last out, cutting hard and high to point, caught for 118. The crowd gave him a second ovation, after the first for his century. Arthur Mailey – who remarkably was allowed to write for a newspaper as well as play – saw in Bradman the ‘confidence of a veteran’. How good a debut was it, on a true pitch? Bradman had batted ten minutes longer than Kippax, whose 143 took just under three hours. Kippax hit 15 fours to Bradman’s eight. That might suggest Bradman lacked the physical power to hit the ball to the long boundaries of Adelaide Oval; or, that Bradman had the stamina to run so many. Just as when he began batting for Australia a season later, well down the order, you could argue that Bradman had an easier task than the earlier batsmen; the bowlers were tiring, and he could rest overnight. While true enough, Bradman also had to manage the pressure of waiting in the pavilion. Batting at seven as the last proper batsman brought its own pressure, as he had to succeed – not only for his own sake, but to make sure his side had an enormous enough first innings score. As it turned out, after New South Wales’ 519, South Australia replied with 481. Bradman went in again at 61 for four, only 99 ahead. Needing to take up time, to earn a draw, Bradman had to change the way he batted. Now he watched Grimmett’s bowling onto the bat. ‘It says much for Bradman’s temperament and ability that he was able to adopt safety tactics with such effect.’ He was next out, to Grimmett, for 33: the ball ‘pitched on his legs, brushed his leg, and went on to break the wicket’. Grimmett took eight for 57, New South Wales collapsed to 150 all out, and lost by one wicket. Bradman wrote years afterwards that ‘by the finish of the game I began to realise what a wide gulf there is between first-class cricket and any other sort’. Reporters were right to note Bradman’s temperament, which