Why the legend of Sir Donald Bradman endures to this day

Sir Donald Bradman’s Test match average of 99.94, mentioned in last week’s column, has raised the question as to why he was so much better than anyone else. There have been numerous attempts to provide an answer, even by himself.

Bradman, born in 1908, spent his early years in small agricultural communities south of Sydney where, outside of school, he was left with time to fill. He was a fan of cricket, derived from his family, but had no equipment. Improvisation was necessary. His legend began in one-man cricket. Within a three-sided barn was a water tank supported by two, small, brick walls. Time after time, the young Bradman threw an old golf ball at one of the walls and tried to hit the rebounding ball with a stump. Once this feat had been mastered, he introduced another one, by throwing the golf ball at a rail 10 meters away, trying to hit or catch the ball on the rebound. In order to succeed at this, great throwing accuracy is required, coupled with anticipation and swift footwork, as the ball would come off at unpredictable angles.

Bradman will not have been the only young boy to have engaged in such attempts to sharpen reflexes. No doubt, some, having read about Bradman’s drills, will have followed their own. Mine involved throwing a tennis ball at the angled blue brick, which formed the damp proofing for the house about half a meter from the ground, aiming to catch the ball as it rebounded unpredictably. This did serve to sharpen my reactions, but not anyway near Bradman’s levels.

These were evident when he began playing for his local club, for which he scored over 200, aged 17 in 1925. His levels of concentration were also remarkable, whilst he excelled at other sports, especially tennis. The cricket