As a young cricketer Grimmett wanted to play for New Zealand. He was on standby for the 1913-14 tour to Australia but wasn't called up. New Zealand had already faced Australia four times to this point, and played another couple of internationals on the tour. The fact the matches weren't retrospectively given Test status was irrelevant at the time. Australia fielded Trumper, Noble, Armstrong, Mailey and Collins, as well as JN Crawford who had settled in the country. In the past Hill, Duff, Bardsley, Cotter and Syd Gregory had also turned out.
In 1914 Grimmett decided to try his luck in Sydney grade cricket. His path to the NSW side was blocked by Mailey. Moving to Melbourne, he was picked by Victoria only five times in five years. At the age of 32 he moved again to Adelaide where he finally got his chance, often pretending he was younger than he really was and bowling in a cap to hide his baldness.
I often forget that with regards to his age, its almost weird to think of a “Young Grimmett”
A lovely anecdote from his Sydney Club days (courtesy Wisden, thru cricinfo)
During this period he was once stopped in his tracks by M.A. Noble, his captain. 'D'you think you're the only one playing in this game?' said the great man. Clarrie was taken aback. He asked how he had offended. 'Don't you know there is a bowler on at the other end?' pursued Noble. 'Yes,' said Clarrie, 'but what's that to do with me?' He was told that the fast bowler at the other end hardly had time to put his sweater on before he had to take it off again. The little chap was taking 1 1/2 minutes to bowl a six-ball over. He was instructed henceforth to wait down the pitch and to walk back more slowly to his mark. How proud Noble would be today to see the doctrine so widely accepted.
And some stuff from O’Reilly
Ted McDonald had performed outstandingly for Victoria and was consequently the cynosure of all eyes when the Victorian team, on its way home to Melbourne, played an up-country match in the mountain city of Goulburn. Not quite all eyes, however. The attention of one pair, belonging to a thirteen-year-old boy named O'Reilly, was rivetted on a wiry little leg-spinner whose name on the local score-board was Grummett. To me, from that day onward, Grummett he remained, and my own endearing name for him throughout our later long association was Grum.
Bradman, it seemed had lost faith in the best spin bowler the world has seen. Grum's departure was a punishing blow to me and to my plans of attack. His diagnostic type of probing spin buttressed my own methods to such a degree that my reaction to his dismissal was one of infinite loss and loneliness.
With Grum at the other end, prepared to pick me up and dust me down, I feared no batsman.
Truly one of my favourite players of all time.
