By John Stevens
First published in The Age on October 7, 1992
O’Reilly a giant from cricket’s golden age
William Joseph O’Reilly, one of Australia’s greatest cricketers, died in Sutherland Hospital, Sydney, early yesterday from kidney failure after a long illness. He was 86.
Bill O’Reilly stands in front of the stand at the S.C.G. which was renamed in his in 1988.Credit:Mark Baker
In a golden era of cricket between the wars, the O’Reilly legend was second only to that of Sir Donald Bradman. Bradman himself regarded O’Reilly as the best bowler he ever played against. Other judges, including the veteran commentator Alan McGilvray believe he had no Australian peer in any era.
O’Reilly had enormous presence on the field. He was big – 190 centimetres tall – gangling, raw-boned and splay-footed, exuding hostility. From junior cricket ranks to the end of his Test cricket career he carried the nickname Tiger.
Bill O’Reilly bowling during a test match in 1938.
The cricket writer Ray Robinson said he bowled as if crouching to spring at his prey, the fingers of his left hand outspread and stiffened as if to claw the batsman down, the mouth a savage line except for a grimace on delivery. He would snarl and curse at himself if the ball pitched wide of its mark. Between overs, he prowled and glowered.
He was the Dennis Lillee of his day. Yet he was not a fast bowler or physically dangerous. He was a leg-spinner, a breed who bowl slowly in the nature of things, although O’Reilly’s pace was almost medium and of his own devising; he was as individualistic in technique as in character. His action was unforgettable. He swept to the wicket in seven long strides, his right arm swinging like a pendulum as the body rhythmically gathered momentum.
His menace came from a full bag of tricks – the stock leg break, the wrong ’un (an off break with a leg break action), the ball that looked as though it was a break but did not deviate at all, variations in pace, bounce and flight plus a high degree of accuracy.
He was the most testing of bowlers. Denis Compton, the English batting genius, said he always felt wrung out after an hour against O’Reilly.
Robinson said he bored away at the batsman like a dental drill. Bradman once wrote: “To hit him for four would usually arouse a belligerent ferocity which made you sorry. It was almost like disturbing a hive of bees. He seemed to attack from all directions.”
O’Reilly was born in the outback opal-mining town of White Cliffs, the fourth of seven children of the local schoolteacher.
His grandfather, Peter O’Reilly, a policeman, came from Ireland in 1865.
When Bill O’Reilly was 12 the family moved to Wingello, 30 kilometres from Bowral, where another youngster, Don Bradman, was growing up.
Former Australian cricketer Bill O’Reilly talks with young country cricketers at the Sydney Cricket Ground. January 12, 1954.Credit:Stuart MacGladrie
As a 19-year-old student teacher in Sydney, O’Reilly was travelling home for Christmas and got as far as Bowral when the stationmaster pulled him off the train. He was told he was needed by the Wingello cricket team turning out against Bowral that day. O’Reilly opened the bowling and was belted all round the field by the 17-year-old Bradman, who scored 234 not out. But on the second day’s play “Tiger” bowled the boy wonder first ball.
In a time when wickets were tailored for run-getting, O’Reilly, in an unbroken run of 27 Test appearances, took 144 wickets at an average of 22.59. He took 20 or more wickets in each of the four series he played against England. He took five wickets in an innings against England eight times, his best double being 5/66 and 5/56 at Leeds in 1938.
O’Reilly often carried the Australian attack, particularly after the selectors discarded his wily spin partner, Clarrie Grimmett. At the Durban Test against South Africa in 1935-36 he bowled 463 balls, wearing the skin off his spinning finger. For nine overs he protected the finger by bowling off breaks with a different action. Finally, in desperation, he reverted to leg breaks spun off the raw flesh. He took the last two wickets to win the match.
O’Reilly was a schoolteacher. Test cricket in the 1930s was played for the honor of it with sacrifices made to career and family life. He missed a number of years’ cricket through World War II, after which he played only in a short tour of New Zealand before retiring. He wrote cricket for ‘The Sydney Morning Herald’ over 42 years, his articles also appearing regularly in ‘The Age’.
He was stern and righteous in his condemnation of one-day cricket and the demise of the slow bowler. He was no respecter of rank and his pieces were dropped from ‘The Age’ for a time when he refused to tone down criticism of an Australian captain, Ian Johnson.
Once an Australian bowler who had felt the sharp end of O’Reilly’s pen confronted him demanding to know what he had written that day. O’Reilly eyed him from a great height and replied, “As I recall, you’re the young man who sent me a letter complaining about what I wrote. There were 16 errors of spelling and syntax in that letter. Any of the eight-year-old children I used to teach could have done better.”
Like some of his contemporaries, O’Reilly was never on friendly terms with Bradman, although the two admired each other as cricketers.
O’Reilly suspected Bradman’s hand in a number of decisions that displeased him, including the dropping of Grimmett from the Australian side.
Alan McGilvray said that O’Reilly was not an emotional man but he shed tears at the ceremony a few years ago when a new Sydney Cricket Ground stand was named the Bill O’Reilly Stand.
O’Reilly is survived by his wife, Molly, his son, Peter, and daughter, Patricia.
