To say Bradman is a living legend, would be a classic understatement. Yet he is also recluse, not perhaps as reticent as Gret a Garbo was, but every close. If seeing him is importable, reading about him is equally difficult for Bradman has withdrawn from public life, becoming a mysterious personality reluctant always to give interviews. The last of which was done God knows then.
Needless to say, everyone in Australia’s cricketing fraternity knows who the ‘Don’ is, but in this land of the immigrant not everybody else does. The taxi driver for instance who drove me from Adelaide Airport to my hotel had never heard of ‘Halden Street’, but considering he was of Greek descent he was quickly forgiven.But that was nothing. The cab driver the next day, having located ‘Halden Street’ after consulting his map book at length. Seemed suitably impressed when I mentioned I was off to see Bradman, “Yeah mate, though I didn’t follow cricket I’ve heard of him”. He should have left it at that. Instead he continued: “But tell me why did he cut off his beard? He looked better with it on”. By now I was totally bewildered, realising after much calculation that the cabbie, ignorant most definitely had confused Bradman with Allan Border.
Surprisingly, an ally, and from a most unexpected quarter – Debashis Dutta, a journalist buddy from a rival paper. We both looked at each other and burst into together, for we had met merely about half an hour ago. When he said he was going to the bank, and I explained I was heading for the Adelaide Oval. And here we both were, having failed to outdo each other. Resigned to the fact that neither of us had a scoop. We decided the enormity of the venture demanded a truce- we would go for Bradman together.
Luck favours the brave remember, and luck for us was Lucy, a girl who lived in the house adjoining Bradman’s. Lucy’s advice was to- stick around, because he only comes out of his house once a day to ….