Roving Reporter
by Christine Davey
Saturday, November 23, 2002

If a single word had to describe the ambience of the Adelaide Oval, it would be "pleasant". The ground is intimate, the fans are polite, and the stands are noble. In fact, during this current Ashes Test, the atmosphere has been the epitome of congeniality.

That wasn't always the case, of course. Seventy years ago this January, the English team led by Douglas Jardine was howled and heckled for the implementation of a little tactic known as Bodyline. All these years on, the jeering may be more light-hearted, and the fans may be willing to applaud the efforts of players, irrespective of their country of origin, but the Bodyline hangover is still in the Adelaide air. It's apparent upon visiting the South Australian cricket museum, that forgiving a haughty, Harlequin-cap-wearing Pom isn't likely just yet.

The museum is tucked underneath the Sir Donald Bradman Stand. It isn't large, the price of admission is a measly $A2 (small change for visiting English) and it's open on playing days at lunch and tea intervals. For anyone who's forgotten the impact of leg-theory bowling, or the outrage it caused at the time, it also represents an important slice of sporting history. The tactic was employed to curb Don Bradman's batting supremacy. And it did. The Don's average for the summer was reduced to 56 and England won the series 4-1.

It was during the third Test in Adelaide, however, that the game got a whole lot more serious. When Australia's captain Bill Woodfull received a blow above the heart, courtesy of a rising Larwood delivery, the crowd became hostile. The English team was threatened and mounted police were brought in to counteract potential problems. It still remains the most controversial Test in Ashes history.

Little wonder then, that an entire wall of the museum, as well as several glass cases, are dedicated to the 1933 match. There is the 12-gauge shotgun used to protect against pitch-invaders. There is the bat signed by members of both teams. There are aerial pictures of the crowd, grainy stills of Bill Woodfull straining, hand over heart, and others of Bert Oldfield, slumping after taking a Larwood cherry fair on the head. There are newspaper headlines calling leg-theory "preventable brutality". But the centrepiece of the exhibition is the original cartoon of a quintessentially Australian and oft-repeated quote known in these parts as the "bastard factor".

According to legend, Jardine was annoyed at one of his players being called a bastard. He marched to the Australian dressing-room and demanded an apology. Vic Richardson (grandfather of some other quintessential Australians - the Chappell brothers) turned to his team-mates and asked: "Which one of you bastards called this bastard a bastard?" Who says history isn't fun?

For museum patrons, the exhibition is more than a static, one-dimensional display. It evokes emotion. "We can't understand the impact today," says Arthur from Melbourne. "It was during the depression, and the snootiness of Jardine must have been unbearable for Australian crowds. We still don't like that kind of thing."

His wife Lorraine agrees. "I remember my mother talking about it," she adds. "Mum went to the Melbourne Test and Jardine was really hated. She told me about the queues to get into the ground. It would have been amazing to experience all that."

The English, however, seem happy to let bygones be bygones. "I'm just glad it's changed," says Nigel from Somerset. "The atmosphere today is terrific. The banter is jolly and there's a genuine respect for both teams. It must have been scary back then, and of course the Aussies hate losing, don't they?"

For non-Bodyline fans, there are plenty of other items to pique the cricket-lover's interest. Life-size portraits of Sir Donald hang next to autographed photos of Victor Trumper. Patrons can even measure themselves against Joel Garner's one-day uniform. But the most intriguing item on display is "The ball that killed the bird that bowled the batsman".

In a small cabinet at the museum's entrance, sit a stuffed swallow and a cricket ball. The sequence of events is complex, so pay attention. In 1969 Greg Chappell bowled to John Inverarity, hitting a swallow in the process. The ball clattered into Inverarity's stumps, but the umpire called "dead ball" (he might have called "dead bird" too, but didn't) and recalled the batsman. He went on to score 89, the bird was stuffed (literally and metaphorically), and the rest, as they say, is history.

In 2002, the Adelaide Test has been an exemplary representation of Australia-England sporting rivalry. Bodyline is now a thing of the past and we've all moved on. To be on the safe side, however, if you do intend visiting, better leave the "I love Jardine" T-shirt at home.

Christine Davey is a freelance writer based in Victoria, Australia

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