I'd always been intrigued by the legend of the tall, dashing batsman who played with carefree grace. In the history books I read as a boy that he was described as Australia's greatest batsman before Don Bradman. But it was legend of the man himself that made him special. Bradman's legend was based on unbelievably phenomenal statistics. He was the run machine par excellence. Trumper was the artist, the genius who cared more for his team-mates and his fans than for his place in the record books. Trumper's status could easily be missed by a look through the statistics, but to read a biography was, and still is, to be entranced by a man as charming off the field as he was on it.Mark Ray adds to the legend of that Blithe Spirit - Victor Trumper
[. . .]
One of the reasons Trumper's Test average ended below 40 was that he never sought easy runs. If the weather was fine and the pitch flat he usually threw his wicket away to give his team-mates a chance to make runs. But when the pitch was wet and treacherous, Trumper, as the senior batsman, would take full responsibility. This was not merely a whim. It is said that at New South Wales practice sessions he would slip the groundsman a shilling or two to prepare one wet wicket at the far end of the table. After a net on a good pitch, he would go up to the end and practise on a sticky. I remember going to the same nets for a state squad practice session and looking up to the far end and wondering if that was the strip the great Trumper used for his wet-weather practice.