His English ducks

NO bowler - not Larwood (who got him out six times between 1927 and 1932), not Bowes (who got him out five times between 1932 and 1938), not even Bedser (who got him out seven times in three seasons, between 1945 and 1948) had the measure of Bradman.

Bradman's two most famous ducks were against the old foe, England. The first was achieved on December 30, 1932 at Melbourne on the opening day of the Second Test of the Bodyline series after Woodfull had won the toss.

When Bradman came in to bat at Melbourne at "precisely 2.57 p.m." (Roland Perry), with the Australian score at 67 for 2 to a thunderous ovation from the 63,993 strong crowd, nobody could have been prepared for the drama that ensued. Bradman walked in a slow semi-circle to the wicket to accustom himself to the light and, no doubt too, to allow the crowd to settle down. Such, indeed, was the pandemonium that Bowes was baulked twice as he attempted to start his run-up. Bradman asked Umpire George Hele for "two legs" (the leg-guard) and as Bowes ran up to bowl the expectation was of men who "await a hanging or a volley of rifle fire at a military execution." This is how George Hele himself saw Bradman's incredible fall:

"Bowes's first ball to him was short and well outside the off stump. Crouching a little Bradman stepped back a foot or more outside the off stump, his right leg bent almost at right angle as he pivoted almost square-on to the ball, now approaching his left shoulder. Swinging his bat horizontally and over the ball, he contacted it with the bat's lower edge and dragged it on to the base of his leg stump before he followed through."

Bill Bowes, recalling the incident later, likened the shocked silence of the crowd to "a theatrical producer's triumph." Bradman's own verdict was that it was "a rotten shot - and that's all that can be said about it." In his autobiography, "Farewell to Cricket" Bradman wrily recalls his quip to Sutcliffe (who had remarked on the great ovation of the crowd as Bradman walked past him): "Yes, but will it be so good when I'm coming back?" But this historic duck, while disastrous to Australian hopes was not without its redeeming side. It seems that a Mr. Hancock walked out of his hotel in disgust at his hero's downfall. His peregrinations took him to a nearby river where three young children were playing on the bank. They accidentally fell into the water and Mr. Hancock, inspite of his recent disappointment, jumped in fully clothed, to effect an altogether noteworthy rescue.

The saddest duck of all in Bradman's great career came, ironically, in his last Test innings at the Oval on Saturday August 14, 1948. He walked out to a tumultuous ovation by a crowd of 20,000 in which not only club members, waiters, gatekeepers and groundsmen joined in but the entire English team as well. Legend has it that after Hollies had bowled Bradman at Edgbaston for 31 in the county fixture with a top spinner, he refrained from revealing his googly to the great man in his second innings when the Don had come out to bat clearly to take another look at the mystery bowler. When Hollies was chosen for the Test, he talked to Tom Dollery of how Bradman hadn't spotted his googly: "I know I can bowl him out with it," said Hollies, "and I'll give it to him second ball at the Oval." The English captain, Norman Yardley, too, seems to have shared his countryman's faith for when Bradman came in to bat in the late afternoon sun with the Australian score at 117 for 1, he said to his teammates: "We will give him three cheers when he gets on the square." And then, turning to Hollies, added: "But that's all we'll give him - then bowl him out." Which is exactly what Hollies, bowling strangely around the wicket, proceeded to do.

Bradman played the first ball - a leg break - from the Warwickshire spinner gingerley only to be bowled comprehensively by the next ball - a perfect googly to which he stretched forward. The crowd applauded yet again as Bradman - his face wreathed in a strange smile - walked back to the pavilion. Hollies had done it! The cartoonist of the Melbourne "Herald" described him as "the prickly fellow who put the o in the Don." Bedser, who was fielding a few yards from him when he came in to bat, has gone on record that Bradman was too moved by the reception to sight the ball properly. Bradman, himself, has characteristically dismissed such sentimental theories. All that he is reported to have said on returning to the pavilion on that occasion was: "Gee whizz - funny doing that." That Oval duck - which brought down the Don's Test average to 99.94 - rung the curtain down on the career of the greatest batsman of modern times. The world will never see his like again. Never, ever.

T. G. V.

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