New Zealanders will identify with Australia's sense of loss of cricketing legend Sir Donald Bradman, who died at his Adelaide home yesterday after a short bout of pneumonia.

Sir Donald, perhaps the greatest cricketer to have lived, was 92.

His Test match batting feats in which he scored 6996 runs at an average of 99.94 are part of the game's rich history.

But Bradman, who in later years chose to live a reclusive life, became an Australian selector and a leading administrator in the game, and the most famous of all Australians.

Born in the New South Wales country town of Cootamundra, Bradman moved to Sydney and became the most dominant force in the game during the 1930s.

He never played in New Zealand.

The closest he came was during a visit to Wellington in 1932 when a side he had been touring with in Canada and the United States returned via New Zealand and played a game in Wellington. However, Bradman was not to play that day and was on a visit to the Wairarapa.

That didn't stop a huge crowd turning out at the Basin Reserve expecting him to play. However, even if he had been playing, rain meant there was very little play at all.

Bradman did play against New Zealand, once, on his adopted home ground at the Adelaide Oval.

It was on the occasion of the 1937 New Zealand team returning home from their tour of England.

There was great excitement in the New Zealand team that they would play against the great batsmen and when he ended the first day at 11 not out expectations were high that the next day, a Saturday, would not only provide a rich harvest of runs, but also a big gate as the Adelaide faithful turned out to watch their hero in action. New Zealand, in those days, gained a share of the gate.

The only problem was that New Zealand had a pretty useful young bowler by the name of Jack Cowie in the side. He had made a big impression in England and showed why when bowling his third ball of the morning, and his first to Bradman.

The ball took the edge of Bradman's bat and flew to the gloves of wicket-keeper Eric Tindill who held the chance. While there was disappointment for all that his contribution to the game was to be so small, there was even greater financial disappointment when the queues outside the ground heard of Bradman's dismissal and all went home.

Bradman's fame was such that a mini industry grew up around him in later years. Most books featuring him were guaranteed huge sales while video tapes of his career and involving interviews he had given were big sellers as well.

One comment on his career was made by Denzil Batchelor in his book, The Book of Cricket.

He wrote: "Impudence! That was the word for the Don when he was at his matchless best. Bring out your finest bowlers in their most towering form and he would perform witheringly upon them - and oh, the hooks that would be made off balls that couldn't be hooked, the cover-drives that would make half-volleys of good length balls on the middle stump!

"He was short, and his beaky little head sprouted out of his big shoulders like the head of a squab-pigeon protruding from its plump crop. The arms seemed to stretch to any length required of them. The feet did any job, however impossibly fast - but they danced no minuets like the feet of Kippaz; they were utilitarian as the feet of Stanley Matthews, not artists in their own right like the feet of Robert Helpman or McCabe."

Bradman did visit New Zealand several times in later years being a favoured after-dinner speaker.

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