summons the shade of every village cricket pitch we have ever gazed hungrily upon or glimpsed from a passing car… Both John Peel and John Walters wanted this song played after their deaths. There is scarcely an Englishman who wouldn't wish for the same honour. 
… as those footsteps trace for the last time out of the act
Well this way of life's recollection, the hallowed strip in the haze
The fabled men and the noonday sun are much more than just yarns of their days.
Together with all other cricketers of our generation, I salute him as the greatest player of his age, the greatest attraction the game of cricket has known. Probably he did not make the friends in the game which others did but, possibly he reasoned, he would not have been the player he was had he allowed his concentration to be upset in the slightest manner. He brilliantly and decisively achieved the objective he set himself when he found his feet in first-class cricket – and that was to be, by far, the greatest run getter and the greatest holder of records the game has known. And in achieving this, be it noted, he gave the cricketing man-in-the-street the greatest value he had ever received for his admittance money and he gained the game the greatest publicity it had known. For, indeed, dislike of Bradman is recorded among many of his peers, including teammates from successive generations such as Bill O’Reilly and Keith Miller, his chief nemesis Harold Larwood, and those who later dealt with the man as an administrator, including Ian Chappell. Bradman was revered by the public for his achievements in the game and, such was the zeal felt, detraction was not countenanced in the popular consciousness. Describing this, Ray Robinson takes opportunity to dispel notions of Bradman's sanctity,
As in other walks of life, especially business and politics, swift ascent of the ladder of success is apt to have perils. Fingers on the rungs have a way of getting in the path of ambitious boots...
Criticism tended to make the bulk of Australians close ranks behind their national hero. In allowing no shadow to settle on Bradman's image, a couple of his most devoted admirers showed less concern about casting shadows elsewhere. They disposed of fault-finding by simply blaming other players' jealousy. With a few exceptions that was a slur on a bunch of team-men of oft-proved sportsmanship. Arrows from the untiring bows of a couple of ex-player writers caused defenders to lean far the other way, as if all Don's attributes were akin to those of a saint. Did Bradman have faults? You bet he did! Through his pre-eminence, Bradman became a man of the establishment. Through his persuasion he dictated terms to them and, in time, their own policy. Establishment figures are generally remembered in their best aspect and Bradman is by no means unique in this. Fellow knights Pelham Warner and Gubby Allen were notable players and influential administrators who are generally recalled with fondness, rather than for the fact that they were great snobs who arbitrarily handled the careers of many. A decisive class above Warner and Allen, though, Bradman was a champion, supreme in ability and concentration.
Not since W. G. Grace has cricket produced such a man who so combined technical skill, concentration, determination or who did so on such a carefully planned course. I doubt that cricket will ever see another for cricket has a way of getting under a man’s skin. I do not think cricket is under Bradman’s skin but I believe that it is under his skull – in close control. Therefore he has missed something of cricket that less gifted and less memorable men have gained. How, I wonder, would Don Bradman define happiness? 
"Why this man is a machine," they said. "Even his friends say he isn't human"
Even friends have to cut something
Whatever his personal faults, the Don isn't such a bad national hero, Wallace concludes. "If Australians are to have a secular god," she writes, "there could be worse choices than one who was upright, loyal, sceptical, loved his wife, stuck by his problematic son, delighted in his daughter despite her special difficulties and looked out for his friends - as well as being a sporting legend who put the good of the game before jingoistic interests." Bradman is a great Australian figure, but one with a complex legacy like Robert Menzies and Kerry Packer – coincidentally men who also dominated Australian cricket. Their deeds were monumental and their contribution to the nation has been great. However, their legacy is not secure from criticism. Kelly’s ‘Bradman’ is a magnificent song, but I feel it perpetuates misconceptions and lacks that which could be of edification. This is all put succinctly by the Queensland left-arm seamer, Tony Dell, who said of Bradman,
Stories point to him being a selfish, divisive person who fought advancement. To me that does not constitute greatness. Watching the song’s video clip, though, Bradman’s batsmanship is such as to inspire grand tribute, so graceful and complete as he moves back into the crease and across to pull through midwicket.
There was a wisdom so informed your bat
To understanding of the bowlers trade
That each resource of strength or skill he used
Seemed but the context of the stroke you played. 
Among contemporary cricket poets, a favourite is Nick Whittock. His work is abstruse but does not prohibit the reader from deriving a great deal from it. In example,
ross taylors a good fucking batsmen
if ginger beer didnt exist itd be hilarious
not as hilarious as if ginger beer didnt exist
n enid blytons works remained exact
ly as theyre fuck I love cricket 
But - I am asked this question by nearly everybody who meets me for the first time - cricket and music? "How could you mix them?"
It is a silly question. As well might a man be asked how he can mix breathing with walking, or wine with song, or George Meredith with gardening, or mountaineering with Wagner. When I think on this I gravely question whether one may dare to do so, and whether beauty is not best kept discrete.
 Swanton, W.W. A Personal Recollection. Wisden, London (2003). P. 92
 Robinson, Ray. On Top Down Under - Australia's Cricket Captains. Cassell Australia, Sydney (1975). P. 179 - 180
 Fingleton, Jack. Brightly Fades the Don. Arcadia, Melbourne (2002). P. 189 – 190
 Cardus, Neville. Second Innings. (Collins, London, 1950). P. 246