I recall one day in 2000 when I was working with the South Australian Cricket Association. Sir Donald Bradman would often visit the SACA offices to sign memorabilia, as requests poured in from every corner of the cricketing world. One afternoon, I saw Sir Donald walking across the car park toward his car as I returned to my office in the Bradman Stand. I greeted him, and he paused for a conversation. Usually, these chats were brief; he was often on his way to another appointment. But this time, he lingered.

Sensing an opportunity, I asked him a few questions that had long intrigued me. We spoke of footwork, the nuances of stance, and the importance of adapting one’s body position quickly to handle a moving ball. He noted that even with the simpler equipment of his era, those who mastered the fundamentals thrived.

Young cricketers and coaches need to acknowledge that while hitting makes highlights, batting builds legacies.

One question that I was keen to ask him was, did any bowler really worry him? I had thought that perhaps Larwood or Bedser might get a mention, but he said no. Was there anything that did concern you, I countered? He said yes, the full ball. Knowing the answer, I asked him why?

Bradman replied, “Because it could get me out in more ways than the short ball”. It explained why he was the best exponent of what I call the “active, neutral position” at the point of ball release, from which he could attack all but the very best deliveries.

The wisdom he imparted highlighted the importance of blending instinct with learned technique — a balance that seems to have tipped in favour of power over precision in today’s game. The modern batsman’s stance, forced back on the heels and designed for lofted drives, sacrifices agility. As a result, many contemporary players struggle against deliveries that deviate, a vulnerability starkly apparent in Test matches.

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Not surprisingly, some of the best modern exponents of the “neutral, active position” at ball release have been Joe Root, Virat Kohli and Steve Smith. This allowed them to attack the less than good balls while putting them in the best position from which to defend the best balls.

Too many of the modern players, appear to be batting to not get out. This flawed mental state not only restricts the number of attacking shots that they can play, but makes them vulnerable to the best balls.

The shift towards power-hitting has dulled the old adage that cricket is as much a game of the mind as it is of muscle. Test cricket demands discipline, tactical thinking, and endurance – qualities less honed in the quick-strike arena of T20s. The consequences of these trends are visible in the modern game, where some of the finest talents can look average when facing a red ball that deviates under a cloudy sky – or pink ball under the night sky.

As Test cricket braces against dwindling attendance and competing formats, a return to its technical roots might be its lifeline. Young cricketers and coaches need to acknowledge that while hitting makes highlights, batting builds legacies. The art of positioning, timing, and an alert stance should be more than nostalgic echoes; they must be cornerstones of training.

The joke about the Irishman giving directions reminds us that progress without understanding is a blind march. If we are to steer Test cricket away from irrelevance and ensure it remains a true test of skill, we might need to look back at how batsmen once anchored themselves – both in technique and mentality. Only then can the game’s next generations truly evolve, not just with thicker bats but with the timeless poise of players who know when to play a Hallelujah and when to bow out to the deep, reflective notes of Nimrod.

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