Bradman and Bowral — an enduring legacy

Don lives on: The Bradman Museum is a treasure trove
for cricket fans.
| Photo Credit: K.C. Vijaya Kumar

The journey to Bowral is a leap back in time. The train swerves past rolling hills, scythes through jungle, slithers into tunnels, weaves across undulating plans with cattle grazing and horses stomping, tiny stations blur on the window, and the odd country home pops into view.

Two hours away from Sydney, the Australian hinterland is even more pretty. Ancient churches, gnarled trees and the old post office are part of the mix. And Bowral, the land of Sir Don Bradman, is high on aesthetics and staggering history, all centred on one man with a Test average of 99.94, an Everest that has never be scaled.

Bradman’s statue.
| Photo Credit:
K.C. Vijaya Kumar

Past Cashmere Essentials and a bakery where the town’s people gather for coffee, pies and gossip, the road turns left. Every step retraces a past when a lad hit a cricket ball and then became a colossus in the cricketing universe. “He used to smack the ball all over the park, didn’t he?,” an elderly gentleman pipes up.

Hearing a ‘who?’, he says: “Bradman, who else?” Every individual seems to have a Bradman connection; in a sense they all own him, nurse his memory passed by awe-struck grandparents, and they are mighty proud of him. All roads lead towards the Bradman Oval, the turf where the great man worked on his craft and became so good that his name had to be embossed on the venue.

Inside, a lady walks her dog, two youngsters sprint, a few mimic the cover drive and pose for pictures, some make video calls back home. The ground is tree-fringed and in the distance, a green hill looms. The pavilion is woody and stately while Bradman’s statue in the back garden, is charming. And just around the corner is the Bradman Museum.

This is not a place focussed on one man even if the name suggests that. It is a spot that celebrates cricket, that old game accidentally shaped by bored shepherds striking a ball with a clump of wood in the English countryside. Yes, the hat-tips to Bradman are there, his life and career are chronicled. There are old photographs, scorecards, a video on the Bodyline series and references to the squads he played in.

Yet, there is no hint of narcissism. The history of the game, the Kerry Packer years, Ashes, the evolution of cricket gear, the laws of the sport and the mighty players all find space. On the walls, Sunil Gavaskar, Viv Richards and many others stare back. A section is earmarked for women cricketers. And in crisp videos, Ian Chappell, Dennis Lillee, Sachin Tendulkar and Rahul Dravid speak about the game, its past, the present and the road ahead.

Cricket’s financial angle is touched upon too as one wall has a collage of advertisements featuring players hyping commercial products, be it a soft drink or protective sporting gear. It also reveals fashion trends of the past, crowbar moustaches and side whiskers, big collars and flared trousers.

There are second-hand books to be picked, memorabilia to buy, and in this temple of cricket, one wall is extra special as it has pictures of the volunteers, who helped in the evolution of this museum. That human touch matters. It always does. And the man, who passed away in 2001, aged 92, endures. His is a legacy that would remain undimmed.