His ambition has come as a surprise. From a distance he seems an affable, unassuming sort of chap with an uncreased face and an uncluttered game. It is part of our foolishness to suppose that simplicity indicates a lack of depth, as if a man must resemble W H Auden or Jean-Paul Satre before he can be taken seriously.
By stating his ambitions and cheerfully admitting his income, Adams has walked willingly into places where there is no hiding. It is an approach whose boldness demands our attention. Generally speaking, cricketers are discreet about these matters, preferring to remain in the pack, in the profession.
Perhaps the desire was there from the start and just went unnoticed. It would explain a lot, not least the upheavals in Derbyshire (so many players have left disgruntled and soon those remaining will be called to account). As ever the search for understanding starts with the background which is a mixture of intelligence and sport, security and its sudden removal.
Born and raised in the county, Adams's mother is a lecturer in education and his father secured an appointment as chief executive at Southend United FC. The boy attended local state schools until his parents' marriage fell apart amid considerable rancour.
We are all products of our circumstances. Adams became a handful and his mother was relieved when Repton, whose links with Derbyshire were strong, agreed to take her son as a boarder on the assisted places scheme. David Jewel, the headmaster, says he was ``the sort of boy who needed to board. It took the heat out of the family''. He adds that he was ``just right for the scheme ... of course, it helped that he played cricket''.
Accordingly Adams finished his schooling at Repton where Jewel found him to be ``open and straightforward . . . mind you, I don't think his record was unblemished, wouldn't expect it to be''.
Next, Adams joined his county and soon he was playing in the first team as a hard-hitting batsman. Opponents thought him gifted but not the sort to rise further. He could give the ball a thump - Dean Jones says he ``hits the ball as hard as Viv or Gordon'' - but he wanted rigour, squandered his wicket, didn't seem to hurt enough inside. In short he seemed an amiable fellow without the hunger or bite to put himself about. It was impossible for outsiders to detect the frustration that lay within.
Adams soon adopted John Morris as his mentor, another free spirit and a batsman whose forceful approach he admired. He felt that Morris wanted to win as much as he did. Perhaps, too, he had needed a strong male figure to replace his father.
Conceivably both men had found themselves at the wrong county. There is a lot of sawdust and spit and scepticism in Derbyshire cricket, and not much fancy. Also it is a small club obliged to fight for survival against powerful neighbours. Adams felt his optimism being slowly eroded by the gloom. Probably, too, he was a bit bumptious in his resentment of the calling to account inevitable in professional sport.
Pretty soon Morris fell out with Kim Barnett and left, leaving Adams isolated in his frustration. Still no one had noticed him, though he was scoring runs regularly and heavily. And then Dean Jones arrived with his winning ways, his swagger and his determination to confront cobwebs. Immediately Adams felt comfortable with him. One observer says he regarded Jones ``almost as a god''.
For his part Jones says he had been ``warned about Adams. They said he was difficult''. Jones arrived with an open mind and took a liking to the young man who ``asked the right questions and was a good listener. He wanted to learn. Barnett and the others didn't know how to manage him''. He could see that the young man wanted to get on, wanted to take the next step, wanted to play for a successful county and set out to convince him that Derbyshire could be that club.
Jones, who was also impressed by Adams's cricket, says ``he can play both forms of the game and has the best pair of hands I've seen, including Mark Waugh''. Adams liked his captain's aggressive and demanding attitude. It was the sort of leadership for which he had been looking and then Jones's stay in Derbyshire ended in tears, which was a dreadful blow to his prodigy. Adams knew it was time to leave. He couldn't be happy otherwise. He wants to play for England.
Jones believes he can do it, thinks he ``should have played last year'' and adds that he's ``aggressive, and plays more like an Australian than a stereotyped Englishman''. He believes that Adams is a ``tough guy who was brought up in a losing environment and didn't want to be part of that''. Colleagues at Sussex sing his praises, saying he's a likeable fellow and not much of a worrier.
Certainly he can bat. Dean Jones isn't the only Australian to think so. Not long ago Steve Waugh growled, through the usual clenched teeth, that he ``can't figure out why the Poms don't give that Adams bloke a go''. Perhaps they will.