Bradman' Takes Long Handle To Some Critics

Greymouth Evening Star, 14 August 1950, Page 5

Bradman' Takes Long Handle To Some Critics

Says Don Bradman in “Farewell to Cricket”: —

“It, is inevitable that a man who is in the public eye should receive criticism. He expects it and docs not resent it, unless he becomes the victim of unwarranted and unfair accusations which extend beyond reasonable bounds.”

This opening paragraph introduces one of the most interesting chapters of Bradman’s own story of his playing days, for it is a chapter that reveals more than any other chapter the character of the man who became the greatest of all modern not the greatest of all time. Bradman was accused of snobbery, of being a recluse, of an unduly ruthless approach to cricket, of bitterness toward critics, and of unnatural dourness. It is not surprising, then, that his book, published by Hodder and Stoughton, London, is very absorbing on these issues. _ Like Bradman’s scores it runs to considerable length—his early days, fight to gain entry to Sheffield cricket, record scores, his “ducks,” against Eddie Gilbert, the bodyline, controversy, his tours of England, ill-healtn, captaincy, then the war, excruciating muscular pain which convinced him that his cricket days were over, recovery and the 1946-47, and the 1948 test series. There are also tales ot his team mates and opponents. “A Good Press”

“Considering all the circumstances of my rapid elevation from obscurity to the realm of test cricket, and viewing in retrospect my experiences, I claim to have been extremely fortunate in that I enjoyed what is commonly termed ‘a good press.’ “Nevertheless, it would be incorrect for me to say that I did not. at times notice a particularly vicious and persistent criticism from ■ certain quarters. It was not the type of comment based on facts, but obviously of the kind which is inspired by an innermost desire to find fault whether it exists or not. “One cannot, be expected at 20 years of age, to have the depth of vision, into character, the broad understanding or the tolerance which a man of 40 might possess. “I was often accused of being unsociable, though I fear the charge was applied in a very low sense. In substance it boiled down to my dislike of artificiality and publicity. “There were those who thought it was unsociable because at the end of the day I did not think it my duty to breast the bai' and engage in a beer-drinking contest. “I well remember being accused of snobbery because in the evening following my world’s record test. score I stayed in my own room listening to music. Was I expected to parade the streets of Leeds? Heavy Demands

“Any exceptional performance makes great demands on the physical and nervous resources of the performer. Some people try to overcome the resultant fatigue by the use of stimulants, others by seeking a coun-ter-excitement. I always obtained best results by seeking quietness. Music is a tonic to jaded nerves. It may not be to a musician, but it is to me. • “In any case, my preference for the more homely and peaceful side of life was a perfectly simple explanation of my reticence. I genuinely disliked the private lionising and feting with which people are afflicted only because they are temporarily in the headlines. “Public acclamation associated with one’s performance is another category. That is a natural and enjoyable manifestation of community interest and appreciation. “Conversely, I deeply valued the friendships which grew from cricket, and were based on the more permanent foundations of mutual understanding and respect. “I feel that so long as people carry out their duties in a proper manner, their private lives should be their own affairs, not subject to the daily inquisitiveness of publicity agents. Surely that is a rational and reasonable viewpoint. “The ordinary citizen has not the remotest idea what it feels like to be a. public figure, recognisable at sight in the trains of Melbourne, the buses in the Strand, or even in the shops at Port Said. “You can’t turn this thing off like a tap. It goes on perpetually in trains, trams, buses and ships the world over. If I tried to walk anywhere in London I was followed by a crowd of small boys. “It is not much use trying to explain to people who crave publicity and cannot get it that one’s greatest need may be of quietness and privacy.” Bradman pays tribute to many noted writers such as Neville Cardus, Jim Swanton, Johnnie Moyes. Arthur Mailey, Jack Hobbs and so on. “They have been harsh critics at times . . . but their writings contained no suggestion of base motives or®jealousy, only a genuine attempt to write honest convictions. Acid Writer

“How different from the bitter acid of a journalist who once wrote of me: ‘Twenty years of cricket do not seem to have taught Bradman the real British Empire meaning of the word.’ The same journalist also wrote a scathing article criticising my sportsmanship for not informing the opposing captain at the interval that I in-

tended to bat on. Even schoolboys know that one only needs to tell if one is closing the innings.” “I will end this chapter more or less exactly where I began by saying that I-should not have been, and did not expect to be, immune from criticism;' that I was not without faults . . • ■But I don’t think many of the personal attacks made on me through jealousy or lack of knowledge were warranted. “I €an honestly lay claim to a steadfastness of purpose, a genuine attempt to be implicitly fair and honest in my dealings and decisions, to show no favouritism to men under by control—to play the .game in its deepest and widest sensei”