The night Lord's was bowled over in tribute to cricket legend Sir Donald Bradman So to an Englishman, it was slightly alarming - during an Ashes summer - that Lord's last Friday hosted not just one Bradman, but a dynasty of them. Sir Donald's family had returned to the home of cricket, along with more than 100 of their compatriots, in celebrating a man who is still viewed by many as the greatest ever Australian, probably the finest ever sportsman, and a figure who continues to hold millions in his thrall, 65 years after he last played in England. The Long Room - that most elegant of spaces - filled with talk of the joys of the Ashes and the marvel of Ashton Agar, the 19-year-old whom most cricket watchers had never heard of before he was picked for Australia and went on to embarrass England by scoring 98 on his debut (which, if only for this week, gives him the second highest ever Test average, behind Bradman). The star of the evening was, appropriately, a Bradman - Sir Don's granddaughter, Greta - who is an extravagantly gifted soprano. She stunned the gathering into silent thrall much in the style of her grandfather. She told me that her musical gene comes from Sir Don. Other than his family and his cricket, music was his other great passion. His oldest sister was a piano teacher and taught him how to play. He loved playing whenever he could and would always listen to records from his collection before he went to sleep at night. And then John Bradman, Don's son, read from his father's diary from his 1930 tour in England. Terse descriptions of the weather, his aching muscles and his 254 knock at Lord's, which he maintained was his finest ever innings. "Poetry and murder," as he described it. To those who know their Bradmania, this was a special moment. "The Don" may have captivated everyone from Sir Winston Churchill to Nelson Mandela, but his own children had a less hagiographic relationship with him. Indeed, John at one point changed his surname by deed poll in an attempt to escape the long shadow cast by his father. They were reconciled before Sir Donald's death in 2001, and his reading and obvious pride on being at Lord's appeared to seal the rapprochement. There can't be many evenings at Lord's that end with a lusty rendition of Waltzing Matilda. Even the head of the Barmy Army joined in. But in this Ashes summer, it proved that cricket - and Bradman - makes anything possible.