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CONTENTS
Introduction: Your regular, everyday superstar > Sambit Bal

THE CRICKETER
Extravagantly sound > Mukul Kesavan
The talent myth > Suresh Menon
The man who acquired greatness > Sambit Bal
The grit to be great > Sanjay Manjrekar
A cricketer most evolved > Aakash Chopra
The job he fell out of love with > Sidharth Monga
The best batting happens when you are batting in the present > Sambit Bal

IN THE WORDS OF HIS PEERS

The rock around whom the rest moved > John Wright
A gentleman champion of timeless steel and dignity > Ed Smith
The eternal student > Greg Chappell
The master will see you now (and always) > Suresh Raina
I didnt beat him more than a ball in a row > Jason Gillespie
His team, his time > Rahul Bhattachariya

THE GREAT INNINGS

Kolkata 2001: Hercules on second fiddle > Sidharth Monga
Leeds 2002: The monk of Headingley > Sanjay Bangar
Adelaide 2003: Twin treatises in courage > Rohit Brijnath
Rawalpindi 2004: Notes from an ugly epic > Rahul Bhattacharya
Jamaica 2006: The Kingston grind > Siddhartha Vaidyanathan
Nottingham 2011: A part of his best self > Sharda Ugra
There are no easy catches in the slips > Nagraj Gollapudi

THE MAN
Dignity, grace, conscience > Rohit Brijnath
A sportsman of model decorum > Gideon Haigh
The reason I got married > Jarrod Kimber
The money moment > Samir Chopra
Start as you mean to go on > Fazal Khaleel
My husband the perfectionist > Vijeeta Dravid
When youve played at the top, its hard to settle for second-best > Interview by Sharda Ugra
Everything that has given cricket its power has started from the fan > Rahul Dravid

THE NUMBERS
The man they couldnt move > S Rajesh
Records
Acknowledgements

Your regular, everyday superstar

SAMBIT BAL

t Rahul Dravids retirement press conference, most things ran along expected lines. Dravid came
A
dressed smartly white shirt, black jacket, hair neatly combed looking boyish, studious and a bit
nervous. His family trooped in behind him; Anil Kumble sat by his side and Javagal Srinath and GR
Viswanath in the first row. There was the familiar chaos at the start, with photographers crowding the
dais and being heckled by their mates.
To those who knew him, Dravids retirement would not have come as a surprise. The manner of his
departure bore the stamp of the man: not for him the fanfare of a build-up to a farewell Test, the
showmanship of a final doffing of the hat, or a milking of emotions.
He wouldnt be human if he hadnt wished for a better finish than the airy, un-Dravid-like waft that
carried the ball into the lap of gully in his final innings, in Adelaide, but he was mature and pragmatic
enough to accept that fairytale endings are a matter of chance: it would have been futile trying to wait
for one or to try to manufacture one.
Dravid read from a prepared text. The words were carefully chosen no flash, not overly
sentimental, a long list of thank yous, and one poignant sentence at the end that was perfect headline
material. Kumble too read out a tribute that had all the right words, and a touch of humour.
The twist, and the tears (well, almost) came from the most unlikely quarter. During his years with
the BCCI, N Srinivasan, who also runs India Cements, has cultivated the image of a tough and taciturn
overlord who takes no prisoners. Unlike Dravid and Kumble, he spoke extempore. He was eloquent
and emotional, and because they came from the heart, his words resonated in the room.
It was a lovely passage on its own, for it allowed those present a rare glimpse of the softer side of
the most powerful man in Indian cricket, and arguably world cricket. Those who have known him for
long talk about Srinivasans love for cricket, but in recent times the BCCI presidents public image
has been that of an authoritarian, even somewhat uncaring, figure. But on this day his obvious
affection for Dravid drew out the cricket lover in him.
Dravid can have that effect on people, on those who genuinely love the game, those who have been
drawn to cricket by its wholesome and timeless qualities, its intellectual dimensions, and its innate
grace and beauty. In many ways Dravid personified many aspects of Test cricket that fans find
appealing.
It was remarkable, but hardly surprising, that his retirement evoked as many appreciations in the
media that were about the cricketer as much as they were about the person. Dravid was perceptive
enough to notice the difference between the obligatory platitudes that are part of the journalistic
routine for such occasions and the sincerity in the tributes that came his way. What was touching, he
said, was that it was obvious that people had taken the time to think about what they wrote, not merely
dashed off pieces that were mandated.
The reason is straightforward. Dravid the cricketer was immense, but the man is just as exceptional,
if not more so, which is amazing, because to remain a successful athlete at the highest level for as
long as he did requires a degree of self-absorption and even narcissism. This is not to suggest that

there arent nice men in sport in fact, Indian cricket was blessed that it had so many at the same time
but rarely does sport allow its successful practitioners to develop rounded personalities.
In a sense, that was Dravids biggest triumph. It would be hard to find a cricketer who was as
devoted and consumed by his craft, or one who spent as much time polishing it, but he also found
energy and time to understand and engage with the world outside cricket. He often compared the life
of the Indian cricketer to a fish bowl, but for himself he was determined never to be trapped. It was
good to know him not in the sense of how it feels good to know a superstar, but because he made it
possible for you to engage with him at a normal level. He was earnest and curious, and had varied
interests. He would ask me as many questions about my profession as I did him about his.
My profession demands the discipline of keeping a distance from your subjects. With Dravid that
code was broken. Its not that I cultivated a friendship with him deliberately. It developed organically
over the years, over phone calls about the occasional pieces he wrote for us, over meals on tours,
over chats about parenting and books, over shared thoughts and interests. That none of it has ever felt
wrong has been down to the kind of person he is.
There is a normalcy about him that is almost abnormal. There are public figures who go out of
their way to put you at ease, but the effort involved is palpable. Dravid does it just by being himself.
There is no affectation and artifice involved. Not that he is unaware of his stardom or is falsely
modest about his achievements, but he can step outside all that and connect with the world at a real
level.
Its almost as if he leaves that part of his life behind him when he leaves the cricket field. And
perhaps thats why he can see cricket from the outside, reflect on it objectively, and see the ironies and
futilities of stardom. Its a rare and remarkable quality. It has helped him engage in relationships in
the outside world without baggage.
It made him one of the rare cricketers a journalist could afford to be friends with without
compromising on professionalism. Through the years our relationship has never been hostage to
what was written about him on ESPNcricinfo under my watch. You could write about a poor
performance or a poor run of scores from Dravid without worrying about his response, because he
understood that you had to be honest to your job, like he did.
The very first time I spoke to him was to ask him, over the phone, if he would write a piece on
Sachin Tendulkar on the occasion of his 100 Test. I didnt know what to expect, but Dravid agreed,
and insisted he would write it himself. We didnt discuss a fee. He wrote for us a few times after that,
and each time the copy would turn up neat. There would be times he would call to tweak a line or two.
He would later tell me that he had got a friend to look through the copy before he sent it over, which
was impressive, given the prevailing culture of player columns, where some players first read pieces
that run under their bylines if they do so at all after they are published.
th

Apart from my first long and satisfying interview with him in 2003, after he had batted India to a
win in the Adelaide Test, he didnt submit to another until the end of the English summer of 2011,
which turned out to be, for him personally, one of the greatest of his career. In six of the eight Test
innings he was forced to open in difficult conditions, and in the Oval Test, after carrying his bat
through in the first innings, as his team-mates combusted around him, he was back facing the new ball
late in the day, when England enforced the follow-on.
That was the theme through his career: when a tough job needed to be done, it was Dravid India

turned to. He didnt like opening, but he did open. First slip was his natural habitat, but he yielded the
position because a team-mate with a bad back found it difficult to stand at second. He did the tough
press conferences. And at the fag end of his career, he made his international T20 debut, long after he
had opted out of format, because India were struggling to put together an XI.
I asked him if he ever felt like the sacrificial lamb. I was convinced he did.
Dravids response was disarmingly simple. I never saw it that way. To me it felt like I was being
trusted to do a tough job by the team. It made me feel valued.
I spoke to him again after the tour of Australia, where he seemed to find every conceivable way
there is of getting bowled. His mind was almost made up about retirement. I asked him if, with the
benefit of hindsight, he now regretted not taking the opportunity to leave on a high after the tour of
England. He would have gone, he said, if he had had a poor series. But having done so well, he felt
obliged to travel to Australia, where the team had never won a Test series. And no, there were no
regrets.
Indian cricket may find a batsman as capable, but to find a man as exceptional is likely to be far
tougher.
This book, a collection of fresh pieces and ones previously published on ESPNcricinfo and in
some of its sister publications, is an exploration of the cricketer and the man, and it employs a wide
range of voices those of writers, team-mates, opponents, and even Dravids wife.
Some of these articles have been edited, rewritten and expanded the piece by Vijeeta Dravid, who
has not only looked after their home but been her husbands best sounding board, is longer here than
the version that appeared on the website, and the interview with Dravid after his retirement, too, is an
unabridged version.
This book doesnt purport to be definitive, but in its five sections the batsman and what he meant
to Indian cricket, impressions by team-mates and other peers, his finest innings, personal accounts of
the man, and interviews with Dravid over the years it aims to provide a well-rounded portrait of a
cricketer who made competitiveness and grace perfect companions, and brought dignity to his sport
even as he fought fiercely in his teams corner.
Sambit Bal is the editor of ESPNcricinfo

The cricketer

Without too much effort Dravid could also keep his head when all about him were losing theirs and blaming it on him, as well
as trust himself when all men doubted him. His approach to sport, and indeed life itself, has been Kiplingesque.
Suresh Menon, The talent myth, page 18

[ 1 ]

Extravagantly sound
MUKUL KESAVAN

s Rahul Dravid a great batsman? If this is the big question, theres a flotilla of more specific
questions that follow it in close formation. Is Dravid the greatest batsman ever to represent India?
Does he have a claim to being the greatest batsman in the world today?
To play sublime innings every now and then isnt enough. On this score Dravid was the most
dependable batsman India ever produced, statistically more reliable than Gavaskar, which is a
staggering achievement. Id argue that Gavaskar faced the greater challenges: he opened the batting
against better fast bowlers without a helmet, but a batsman can only play to the conditions hes given,
so that cant be held against Dravid. You could also argue that Tendulkar in his pomp averaged
roughly what Dravid did in his, and that he made those runs at a greater rate, and that would be true.
Its also true that to compare the figures of a completed career against one thats still a work in
progress is misleading: averages taper off towards the end of a player s span. Dravid finished in the
early 50s, which is where Gavaskar ended his wonderful career. Still, the fact that a pessimistic
forecast has Dravid declining to Gavaskar s statistical level, says something about the height at which
he currently stands.
On pretty much every count Dravids record is outstanding. He has by far the best record for an
Indian batsman away from home, a crucial statistic for a team thats notoriously shaky at dealing with
foreign conditions. In wisden.coms list of the top 100 innings, Dravids best centuries were ranked
higher than Tendulkar s.
But figures arent everything. If they were, we wouldnt be asking the question we started with.
Nobody asks it of Lara or Tendulkar anymore; we know they are great batsmen. So why, despite the
massive consistency of his record, do we not take Dravids greatness for granted?
The simple answer is that Dravid played all his cricket in the shadow of Tendulkar, regarded by
most critics as the greatest batsman in the history of Indian cricket. By the time Dravid began playing
Test cricket, Tendulkar was a Test star of about seven years standing. If the early nineties belonged to
Lara, the second half of the decade was Tendulkar s. The seal on Tendulkar s pre-eminence was
affixed by Don Bradman himself, when he observed that Tendulkar s batsmanship resembled his own.
It is natural for a young batsman to supersede the champion of the previous generation, as in the
manner in which Tendulkar replaced Mohammad Azharuddin. But prodigies like Tendulkar upset this
sequence: to Dravid, three months older than the great Mumbaikar, it must have sometimes seemed
that he had been sentenced to second fiddle for life.
But through the first half of the 2000s Dravid, by sheer weight of runs, was the most valuable
batsman in the Indian side. That his peak coincided with a relative decline in Tendulkar s performance
underlined his pre-eminence. Journalists and commentators everywhere acknowledged with respect
and admiration Dravids achievement, but there was no great rush to celebrate the arrival of a new
great. It is the fate of low-profile high performers to be taken for granted.

Also, Dravid is a great defensive batsman and the label great is generally applied to batsmen who
dominate the bowling, whose preferred style, as with Lara and Tendulkar, is attack, not attrition.
Attacking batsmen are sexier than defensive ones. Had Tendulkar in his pomp not walked in at his
assigned position in the batting order, collective disappointment would have rustled round the arena.
Not so with Dravid. He never made your pulse race; acknowledging the greatness of those who do,
like Viv Richards or Tendulkar, comes more easily, more naturally.
But this cant be the whole explanation. Gavaskar played most of his innings in defensive mode and
the Indian cricketing public wasted no time in hailing him as the greatest ever. This had something to
do with his record-breaking debut series, where he scored 774 runs in four Tests with four centuries
and three fifties. In the greatness stakes, getting off to an early start helps (Tendulkar), as does an
explosive one (Gavaskar).
The fact that Gavaskar was an opening batsman invested his innings with drama: theres something
about an opening batsman facing down fast bowlers that is dramatic and exciting in itself. Also,
Gavaskar generally closed out his centuries, unlike Dravid, who through the first half of his career
had the frustrating habit of getting himself out in the eighties and nineties. But even allowing for these
differences, its curious that we admire Dravid where once we stood in awe of Gavaskar.
I think the reason for this has to do with Dravids style of batsmanship. Spectators and cricket
writers reserve their highest praise for batsmanship that seems effortless. The oohs that follow
Tendulkar s attenuated straight drive, the high-elbow one minus follow-through, are our tributes to
magic. What timing! Genius!
Dravids batting style was the opposite of effortless. It was elaborate, flourishing and effortful. You
seldom applauded a Dravid stroke for its velocity or timing. Energetic hook shots dribbled over the
boundary line. Drives were hit hard into the ground, and nothing was ever hit on the up. Every shot
was preceded by a high, flourishing backlift, but unlike Lara, whose backlift ended in high-risk shotmaking, Dravids arabesques more often than not resulted in the ball being dropped by his feet for a
single. And the man-in-a-bunker effect was exaggerated by the stance: low, dogged, sweat running off
him in rivulets.
Dravid didnt fit into the rudimentary templates that the great art of coarse cricket writing has
invented for batsmen. Here a sound technique always implies a compact defence. Well, Dravids
defence wasnt compact: it was extravagant. His wrists twirled, his bat looped before the ball was
disciplined into the ground. Dravid was a great batsman who could do everything: he hooked, pulled,
cut, swept, flicked and drove, but his entire technique was centred on the need to make sure that the
ball hit the ground first. To that end he played the ball later than any batsman in cricket; so late that
more often than not the ball would ricochet off an angled bat and hit the ground at a steep angle.
Dravids apparent effortfulness, his sadhu-like indifference to the sex appeal of shots hit on the up, the
absence of ooh-making timing, were symptoms of his decision to sacrifice velocity, to reduce risk.
The reason his shot-making sometimes looked studied (his pull, for example, where he rolled his
wrists over the ball with almost pedantic deliberation) was because he was wholly committed to the
ground beneath his feet.
His methods werent orthodox. Its impossible for a lay viewer to know how a great player
achieves his effects, but for what its worth I think the flourish in Dravids batting was a way of
finding balance and delaying till the last possible second the decision to play. Watching him bat was
like watching the movement of an old-fashioned clock: the pendulum working, gears and levers

moving in perfect, elaborate accord to strike the hour when its due and not a second earlier.
Style and idiosyncrasy in cricket are associated with attacking batsmanship. Dravid taught us that
batsmen can be defensively sound in an original way. Someone should break his technique down into
its component parts so it can be taught to others at a time when defensive techniques are atrophying.
Tendulkar has been pinged more often than I can count, and Sehwag without a helmet wouldnt last
the length of a Test match. Dravid almost never got hit by the fast men. More than any batsman of this
age, he can be compared with the greats of the pre-helmet epoch, because you know that he owed his
runs to his technical genius, not to the insurance he wore on his head.
Mukul Kesavan is a writer based in New Delhi. A version of this article was first published in the print version of Cricinfo
Magazine in August 2006

Of the 210 catches Dravid took in Test matches, more than half were off the bowling of Anil Kumble (55) and
Harbhajan Singh (51).

[ 2 ]

The talent myth

SURESH MENON

t is fashionable in our times to claim that there is no such thing as talent and that all achievement
is the result of hard work, or, in the words of Malcolm Gladwell, the 10,000-hour rule. A slew
of recent books Matthew Syeds Bounce, David Shenks The Genius in All of Us, Gladwells Outliers
among them has been hammering this idea home. They are not designated self-help manuals but
provide succour to the untalented. Talent is Overrated is the unambiguous title of a book by Geoff
Colvin, where he speaks of deliberate practice as being more crucial than talent. The 10,000-hour
rule refers to the amount of time someone has to work at his craft to reach the highest level.
The modern reductive thinking was set off by the work of Anders Ericsson, a psychologist and
researcher at Florida State University. Most popular books on the subject quote his work.
The difference between the average joe and VS Naipaul is that the latter works harder and puts in a
lot more hours. Ditto with Roger Federer or Tiger Woods or Eric Clapton. What a relief for the rest
of us! We are not less talented at all we merely cant be bothered to spend all our time doing just the
one thing. I mean, we have a life!
There is a comfort in such smug thinking. It is at once an insult to a persons ability and an
inspiration for those who have neither the talent nor the inclination of the successful.
Forget 10,000 hours. I can practice continuously for 10,000 days and still not be a Sachin
Tendulkar. Or a Kevin Pietersen. For the essential flaw in the argument is that you need to have
something to build on. And that something is talent. Genius, said Edison, is 99% perspiration and 1%
inspiration. But without that 1%, you do not become a 99% genius. Just a dud. Talent without hard
work withers early; hard work without talent gets you nowhere.
The former England batsman and now author Ed Smith has a simple definition for talent. It is
what you cant learn, hone or teach a skill can be learned, talent cant talent is Garry Sobers,
talent is Jimi Hendrix
Not so long ago, the lack of talent was the theme of many studies of Pete Sampras. He was seen as
boring, mechanical, untalented, and his 14 Grand Slam titles were seen as the result of hard work and
self-denial. One of the greatest tennis players of all time was seen as untalented because he was not
flamboyant a common enough mistake for the unsophisticated fan to make, but scary when given
respectability by columnists and pop psychologists.
The thought was articulated by Sanjay Manjrekar in a piece. The former India player
coincidentally the man Rahul Dravid replaced wrote, That you dont need to have great talent to
become a sportsman is reinforced by Dravids achievements.
This is one of sports biggest misconceptions. It leads to the spurious conclusion that some top
performers Sampras, Gary Lineker, Sunil Gavaskar are overachievers who made a little talent go
a long way.

This is the Fallacy of Incomplete Reasoning. The definition of talent is far too restrictive. This
talent clearly does not take into account the stroke play Dravid was capable of the on side was his,
just as the off side was Sourav Gangulys in Indias great middle order of the time. Worse, it does not
even consider mental toughness, the ability to read a game, the skill to change tack at will.
Fifteen years at the top level without talent? Over 10,000 runs each in two forms of the game
without talent? Three Test centuries at the age of 39 in England without talent? Then let us all drink
what Dravid drinks.
When Dravid went out to bat at Lords in his final Test there, the rest of us were not thinking,
Gosh, if only I had listened to my cricket coach, I would have been in his place! At least some of us
were marvelling at the mental toughness and the sheer grit of the man.
The ability to work hard, the skill to swallow disappointments and return to the fray, the cussedness
needed to keep at it and excel at it are all part of the concept of talent. Or have to be. By limiting the
definition we fall for the seductive arguments of pop psychology, thus doing the talented an injustice.
And we ignore the mystique that is the essential companion of the great performer.
The rich are different from you and me, said the writer F Scott Fitzgerald. So are the talented. They
are different from you and me. Dravid overcame more problems in the course of a single innings
than many of us do in a whole year. You cannot do that without talent.
Smith has said that talent, ironically, has a nasty knack of protecting the talented from the urge to
self-improve. Dravids greatness lay in the fact that he worked on preserving his talent, on honing
skills that would help the talent become productive, and in the fact that from his teens he was already
one of the most talented batsmen in the country. The first two would have been meaningless without
the third.
Cricket is the only sport where the term old-fashioned is a compliment. It is a quirk of the
language, and perhaps of the game itself, that old-fashioned in cricket does not mean hidebound,
inflexible or anything negative.
Dravid was an old-fashioned cricketer who gave breath and body to the qualities that cricket aspires
to, all the more startling in an era where selfishness is mistaken for professionalism and bad
behaviour seen as the rage to perfection. Dravid was as tough and as professional as they come, yet
with a moral centre that was uncompromising.
He befriended both triumph and disaster in his first Test, making as many as 95 but missing out on
a century. Perhaps out of that experience grew his essential character, the ability to treat these two
impostors just the same, as recommended by Rudyard Kipling. Without too much effort Dravid could
also keep his head when all about him were losing theirs and blaming it on him, as well as trust
himself when all men doubted him. His approach to sport, and indeed life itself, has been
Kiplingesque.
By any meaningful reckoning, traditional and experimental, he was Indias greatest match-winning
batsman, with 24 away wins (Sachin Tendulkar has 20) where he averaged nearly 70. When
imponderables are introduced into the equation, with such things as the ability to absorb pressure and
match impact, he is the greatest series-defining batsman in the history of Test cricket, his count of
eight series-defining performances greater than anybody elses.
In the trinity of Indian batsmanship Sunil Gavaskar, Dravid and Tendulkar each had a defined
(and defining) role. They were the Creator, the Preserver and the Destroyer respectively. With the

bowlers and the wickets at their most fresh, Gavaskar opened the batting to create the platform on
which the middle order could build. At No. 3, Dravids role was to preserve a good start or make up
for a bad one (on 66 occasions he went in to bat with the score in single digits). Tendulkar was the
destroyer incarnate, reducing grown men to tears as they saw their best deliveries disappear past the
boundaries on either side of the wicket.
In his peak years, between 2001 and 2006, it was Dravids batting that secured victories in England,
Australia, Pakistan and the West Indies. Yet even in that period Dravids self-deprecatory manner,
unusual among Indian players, was remarkable. People want me to get out quickly so they can watch
Tendulkar bat, he said on one occasion; later he often compared himself to Virender Sehwag, to his
own disadvantage. Asked if he would make a triple-century someday, Dravid replied that you would
need a ten-day Test match for that to happen.
It was a tone familiar to those who knew him off the field, but seldom accessible to those who only
knew him from watching his batting on television. There was a harmony. The same subtlety and
knowledge of angles that marked his batting were evident in his dealings with people and his handling
of situations that called for tact and delicacy.
He was arguably Indias greatest catcher at slip, with 210 Test victims in his bag; it was all about
anticipation and positioning rather than flamboyance and showmanship. That combination of intensity
and relaxation, self-awareness and modesty, Test orthodoxy and limited-overs creativity is rare. It is
called talent, and is as much a function of greatness as the stunning on-drive and the powerful square
cut, both of which Dravid was master of.
Suresh Menon is the editor of the Wisden Cricketers Almanack India

Dravids win-loss record as a Test captain (eight wins, six losses) is third among Indians who led in at least 20 Tests,
next only to MS Dhoni (17-10) and Sourav Ganguly (21-13).

[ 3 ]

The man who acquired greatness

SAMBIT BAL

he word great is subject to such careless and persistent abuse that you need to draw the lines
afresh before you can use it properly. Once, when Virender Sehwag was carting the West Indian
bowlers around in St Lucia in 2006, one of the more excitable members of the commentary team
started to drop the word great quite liberally. It was certainly great to watch, but was it really one of
the great innings? Was it even among Sehwags greatest?
To take the discussion further, at 50 Tests, Sehwags numbers were superior to Sachin Tendulkar s
after the same number of games. Sehwag had more runs, more hundreds, and a better average. Yet
Tendulkar was already a great player by his 50 Test. Because by then he had passed that simple yet
all-important test that defines greatness: you could place him in any age, any conditions, against any
bowlers, and in any match situation, and you could say that he would score plenty of runs and score
them with authority. With Tendulkar, as with Brian Lara, or Viv Richards before them, greatness was
established early. They had the gift, the genius.
th

So did Mark Waugh. And VVS Laxman, who every once in a while can raise his game to a level
where only genius can exist. But these two players fell short of greatness because their brilliance was
fleeting, subject to moods. Their averages in the forties point to several lows and inconsistencies,
and their careers are poignant reminders that uncommon gifts alone do not guarantee greatness.
Conversely, Rahul Dravid piled up the most compelling evidence in favour of the argument that
greatness can exist outside genius. Or perhaps at least that the commonly held definitions of what
constitutes genius are a tad narrow.
There are ways and ways to measure greatness. Some stamp their greatness by the way they bat, the
way they conjure up strokes that are beyond the reach of most. Richards had greatness written in his
mere walk to the middle, Tendulkar in his precocity, and Lara in his incandescence. Theirs was a
greatness easy to notice because they were different from the rest. To watch them bat was to feel awe.
To watch them dispatch good balls to the boundary was to feel blessed. They made you feel grateful
for their genius.
Dravids batsmanship was often taken for granted because it was so firmly rooted in time-worn
traditions leaving the good balls, not hitting in the air or on the up, and because it was so utterly
comprehensible and lacking in mystique. But only those who have played the game at the highest level
can fully appreciate the true meaning of Dravids craft.
To see a good ball hit for four is a spectacle; surviving a great ball requires no less skill, though it
rarely elicits awe. Watching a bouncer being hooked is among the most thrilling sights in cricket, but
we often miss the artfulness and skill involved in leaving a bouncer. Few Tendulkar and Lara
included have dealt with the short ball with greater poise than Dravid, whose eye never left the ball.
He was hit a couple of times while trying to force the ball away, but rarely did you see him duck into

a bouncer.
Dravids other great strength was also intangible, and entirely invisible. In Adelaide in 2003, he
batted India to victory by scoring 305 runs in the two innings, occupying the crease for 835 minutes.
His batting was as much about technical virtuosity as it was about the mind. Test cricket, he often says,
is such a fulfilling experience because it challenges the mind continuously for four or five days.
Dravid belonged to that priceless breed of champions whose mental resolve is at its strongest when
the situation is dire. His 270 in Rawalpindi in 2004 wasnt his most flawless innings. He benefited
from two umpiring decisions and a fielding lapse, but as was the case with the five hundreds that came
before that innings, and a couple of nineties, it came when India needed it most.
Dravid was Indias most dependable, most consistent and most valuable batsman. But he did not
merely provide Indias dazzling batsmen with a cushion, he was the pivot around which the Indian
batting revolved. Sachin Tendulkar was Indias batsman of the 90s; Rahul Dravid made the 2000s his
own.
The batting average is only one parameter to judge a batsman by, but whichever way you look at it,
an average of over 50 in more than 150 Tests should be enough to grant a player his place in history.
That Dravid has a better average away from home should only add to the glow. However, the heart of
his greatness doesnt lie in the numbers but rather in the circumstances in which they have been
compiled, and most of all, what they have meant for his team.
It is Tendulkar s misfortune that his best years as a batsman coincided with Indias most abject ones
as a team. His brilliant hundreds in Australia, South Africa and England were all solos, made as his
team crumbled around him. It didnt help that the Indian national side was hostage to ad hoc
amateurism at the time. Dravids peak, on the other hand, coincided with a period of wholesome
progress for Indian cricket, and in many ways Dravid was the singular embodiment of this progress.
He was the model professional, wholehearted team man, progressive leader, and of course, lynchpin
of Indian batting.
The manner of playing is a fair pointer, and so are statistics, but to many the essence of a
cricketer s greatness lies in what his performances have meant to the team. Dravids figures were
outstanding: he averaged more than 53 abroad, 21 of his 36 hundreds came away from home, and
between 2001 and 2006, when India won 26 out of 66 Tests, he averaged more than 60. But to his
team, Dravid meant much more than the numbers.
He saved them from defeats in South Africa, West Indies and England, and set up wins in Sri Lanka,
England and Australia. Barring Multan in 2004, he played a hand, often the critical one, in every
Indian Test win abroad in his time. Even on the tour of Australia in 2008, when he was in the middle
of one of the roughest phases of his career, he played a vital hand in setting up what has been Indias
only Test win in Perth. Sourav Ganguly brought the charge, Tendulkar stirred the imagination, but
without fanfare Dravid became the backbone of Indian cricket
Batsmen like Dravid dont bring a song to a spectator s heart; they can sometimes even be tedious
to watch (though Dravid was a beautiful batsman in his own right). But they are the kind whose
presence every team is grateful for. The true indications of Dravids greatness came when batting
called for more than driving on the up, when the ball curled in the air and fizzed off the pitch, and
when survival became an end in itself. To Indias enormous fortune, when a situation called for a
batsman to stand up and be counted, Dravid was there. Almost always.

Some are born to greatness. Rahul Dravid acquired it. In some ways that is the greater achievement.
Sambit Bal is the editor of ESPNcricinfo

Dravid scored six Test hundreds in England. Only one Indian has scored more Test centuries in an overseas country Sunil
Gavaskar, who has seven in the West Indies.

[ 4 ]

The grit to be great

SANJAY MANJREKAR

hen Sunil Gavaskar became the first to 10,000 Test runs, there were celebrations in India. It
was a long-awaited moment; ever since his phenomenal debut series in the West Indies in
1971, Gavaskar had looked likely to overhaul the mark. As for Sachin Tendulkar, so immense is his
ability that when he reached the heights he did, it was taken for granted. That his fans still feel
disappointed with him, after all that he has achieved, shows that for them he is no less than god.
With Dravid, every run he got in Tests after 3000 seemed an over-achievement. And I say this in a
positive sense. Early in his career he looked a player with the kind of talent that, if combined with
hard work, could get him into the Indian side. He always looked a Test prospect but not a prodigy
who promised greatness. As it turned out, Dravid worked very hard, and not only did he play for
India, he also got himself 13,000 runs at an average of over 52 in 164 Tests.
That is a great achievement. And in a team sport like cricket, Dravid is an inspiration for young
players, who sometimes feel inferior to a fellow player blessed with considerable natural talent.
Dravids career average is just a shade below Tendulkar s. That just might renew belief in virtues that
youngsters are given to finding old-fashioned these days: a sound technique and a strong mind.
I believe Dravid can be a more realistic batting role model for young Indian batsmen than a
Tendulkar, a Sehwag or a VVS Laxman, for Dravid is the least gifted on that list. While Tendulkar is a
prodigious, rare talent, Dravids basic talent can be found in many, but what he has made of it is the
rare, almost unbelievable, Dravid story.
Dravid now stands on equal footing with the two great entities of Indian cricket, Gavaskar and
Tendulkar. He has tried to keep himself away from comparisons, but it is inevitable now that he will
be viewed alongside these two. It is an interesting exercise.
Gavaskar was a classy defensive batsman, who courageously took on the bowling giants of the
1970s and 80s, when most other Indian batsmen walked to the pitch feeling inferior. Not only did
Gavaskardefy all those bowlers, he eventually mastered them. He wasnt as gifted as Tendulkar is, so
he needed to draw on reserves of will, mental strength, and a good defensive game. Gavaskar would
typically take the heat for four hours or more before he felt he could dominate the bowlers, in the
final session. He respected his opponents but, unlike some of his Indian contemporaries, he never
considered himself weaker than them.
Gavaskar played at a time when the bowling attacks of most teams around the world were
formidable. These days most bowlers focus on containment, but in the 70s and 80s get em out
was the mantra. Back then all those fine bowlers tried everything possible to get Gavaskar out. Today
most bowlers are looking to bowl in the right areas. This method came into fashion when the
batsmen began to attack more: it made sense to keep the ball just outside the off stump and let the
batsman make a mistake. Glenn McGraths success with this method helped it gain popularity. It is

against just this sort of bowling that Dravid, a good defensive batsman with great patience, has
flourished.
After Gavaskar, whose exploits proved to the next generation of players that Indians could be
batting masters of the world, arrived Tendulkar. He clearly stands above Gavaskar and Dravid in
terms of sheer batting ability. He also has a disciplined cricket mind that has never allowed his
aggressive batting to breed arrogance. It took Tendulkar two seasons to test the waters at the
international level before proceeding to dominate the game like no Indian had done before.
Dravid was fortunate in a sense that when he arrived in 1996, Tendulkar was already a phenomenon.
Like all batsmen of his time, Dravid had accepted that Tendulkar was the best and all he could do was
fight for second place. That helped him focus on his own game and avoid looking at it in comparison
to Tendulkar s.
However, if Dravid had played in the 70s and 80s, life would have been easier for him. Those
were times when leaving a ball got nods of approval and admiration from spectators. Dravid played
the bulk of his cricket in an era when defensive batting was considered almost a handicap. It is rare to
see a defensive batsman come through the modern system.
Not to say that Dravid was all defensive, though. He had one shot that is uncommon in a defensive
Indian batsman: the pull. It is a superb instinctive stroke against fast bowling, and it is a stroke he had
from the outset; a shot that bailed him out of many tight situations in Tests.
Gavaskar was a great defensive batsman who took on the best at their best and won. Tendulkar was
blessed with outrageous talent that he never took for granted. Dravid perhaps had the strongest mind
among the three, the largest mental reserves.
Gavaskar did have mental strength but he had occasional indiscretions, which gave you cause to
think that the great man was not really tuned in that day, that he had not yet recovered from the last
mammoth effort, perhaps. He also took one-day cricket lightly, so as to reserve his best for Test
matches. In Dravids batting, on the other hand, you saw the same intensity in every international
innings he played.
When his place in the one-day team came up for scrutiny early in the 2000s, it was a difficult period
for Dravid because he wasnt very good at the shorter form of the game at the time. He was lucky to
have Sourav Ganguly as captain. Ganguly wanted someone sensible and dependable, like Dravid,
alongside him. Dravids transition from then on as a batsman, and especially as a valuable one-day
batsman, was inspiring. His progress in this period gave us our first insights into his great mind.
I must confess, Dravids attitude at the start of his career concerned me. As young cricketers we
were often reminded to not think too much and sometimes reprimanded by our coaches and senior
team-mates for doing so. Being a thinker in cricket, it is argued, makes you complicate a game that is
played best when it is kept simple. I thought Dravid was doing precisely that: thinking too much about
his game, his flaws and so on. I once saw him shadow-play a false shot that had got him out. No
problem with that, everyone does it. Just that Dravid was rehearsing the shot at a dinner table in a
restaurant! This trait made me wonder whether this man, who we all knew by then was going to be the
next No. 3 for India, was going to over-think his game and throw it all away. He reminded me a bit of
myself.
Somewhere down the line, much to everyones relief, I think Dravid managed to strike the right
balance. He seemed to tone down the obsession over his game and his technique, and started

obsessing over success instead. Perhaps he looked a lot more studious and intense on television to us
than he actually is out there.
Life cannot have been easy for a defensive batsman in this age, when saving runs rather than taking
wickets is the general approach of teams. A defensive batsmans forte is his ability to defend the good
balls and hit the loose ones for four. But with bowlers often looking to curb batsmen by setting
defensive fields, batting becomes a bit of a struggle for players like Dravid.
It is a struggle he was content with, though. He did not commit the folly of being embarrassed about
grinding when everyone around him was attacking and bringing the crowd to their feet. He was quite
happy batting on 20 when his partner had raced to 60 in the same time. Once he got past 50, he
sometimes seemed to get into this mental freeze state, where it did not matter to him if he was stuck
on 80 or 90 for an hour; he resisted the temptation to do anything different to quickly get to the next
stage of the innings. It is a temptation that many defensive batsmen succumb to after hours at the
crease. When the patience starts to wear, you think of hitting over the infield, for example, to get a
hundred. Dravid knew this was something Sehwag could get away with, not him.
That Dravid has played more innings that have mattered for the team is not a coincidence. Its the
kind of person that he is, the kind a school teacher will give ten out of ten to in an assessment: the sort
of perfect role model that the Indian middle-class family value system often throws up. Those middleclass values are, I believe, Indias greatest strength, and Dravid is among the finest illustrations of that
fact.
Former India batsman Sanjay Manjrekar is a cricket commentator and presenter on TV. A version of this article was
published in Cricinfo Magazine in 2006

Dravid bowled 20 overs in his Test career, and took one wicket for 39 runs: that of West Indies wicketkeeper Ridley
Jacobs, in the Antigua Test in 2002.

[ 5 ]

A cricketer most evolved

AAKASH CHOPRA

still fondly recall that brisk summer evening in Australia in early 2004. We had levelled a series
for the first time in a long time in that country. Rahul Dravid, a senior team-mate and my hero, sat
next to me in a rather cheery dressing room, and I hesitantly spoke to him about my batting, hoping to
get his two cents.
As always, he was eager to help. Besides the many things that I picked up from him that day, what
struck me was his honesty and humility which I believe are the first steps towards greatness.
Dravid, in his classic self-effacing way, confessed to being, for the most part, an on-side player.
The bowlers had come to know of his strengths and had stopped feeding him on his legs. He had to
find another way to score runs, he said. Which was how he became one of crickets outstanding offside batsmen.
That was an overwhelming revelation for me: what seemed like second nature to Dravid had been,
in fact, practised and perfected. Just a few days ago he had stunned everyone with his stupendous
double-century in Adelaide, an innings punctuated with an array of breathtaking cover drives,
piercing the smallest gaps with surgical precision. How could one believe that his impeccable off-side
play didnt come naturally to him?
It was only my second series for India, but Dravid had already become my go-to man, my mentor,
for queries to do with technique and temperament. His confession had been in response to my concern
about my inability to score big runs despite getting good starts. He didnt have to expose chinks in his
armour when he answered, but he did.
Years later that chat with Dravid made me go back and search for videos of him batting early in his
career. I wanted to know if the confession had just been an attempt to pep me up. What I found made
me respect Dravid, the man and the batsman, more.
When he started out, Dravid used to crouch a lot more in his stance, with his head falling over a bit
towards the off side. His bat, coming from the direction of gully, forced him to make a huge loop at
the top of the backlift. Both the backlift and the falling head allowed him to punish anything that was
even marginally on his legs. His wide backlift also made him a good cutter of the ball, provided there
was width on offer. On the flip side, it meant fewer front-foot strokes on the off side. In fact, mid-off
was rarely brought into play. Dravid said that because he grew up playing on jute matting wickets, he
became a good back-foot player and also strong on the legs, for the bounce allowed him to work
balls, even those pitched within the stumps, towards the on side. He was a predominantly bottom-hand
player, he said.
The knowledge of where his off stump was, coupled with his immense patience, ensured Dravid
continued to score bucketfuls of runs in Test cricket, in spite of the bowlers finding him out. But
though the runs were coming, they were not coming as briskly as he would have liked. He had to stay

longer at the crease to accumulate his runs, and that eventually cost him his place in the ODI team. He
needed to find ways to open up his off-side play. Thats why he chose to not get behind the line of the
ball at all times, and also started to use his top hand a lot more.
An ardent follower of the Gavaskar school of batting, Dravid would, when he started out, go back
and across before the ball was bowled, and then further across to get behind the line of the ball. While
this method worked well in Test cricket, it needed some tinkering with in the shorter format. So
instead of going back and across, he preferred going back and back, to ensure he stayed beside the
ball more often, which allowed him to free his arms while playing through the off. These tweaks were
successful and Dravid went on to play his finest cricket in that period.
That was not the end of it, though. When you think you have mastered your biggest shortcoming
and can breathe easy, something else that is unwanted creeps into your system. While the back-andback trigger movement worked really well for Dravid, his front foot started going a bit too far across
in the process. The movement across the stumps allows you to cover the swing a little better, but it
also blurs your judgement of lines, with regard to deciding which deliveries to play and which to
leave alone.
Mitchell Johnson, with his line that goes across the right-hander, forced Dravid to play at deliveries
he would have left alone if his front foot had not gone so far across. And uncharacteristically, Dravid
got out fishing outside the off stump on more than a few occasions.
Once again, the challenge was to find a solution to a technical glitch. Dravids answer was to
completely eliminate the trigger movement and stay perfectly still till the bowler released the ball.
That may sound like a simple adjustment, but a batsman will tell you that it is perhaps the toughest
one to make. Even though the movement occurs before the ball is bowled, and is only a few
centimetres, its as important as the movement after the ball is bowled. The trigger movement sets the
body in motion and allows it to get into the right positions to meet the ball. Eliminating the trigger
movement is sort of like engaging fifth gear right after turning on the ignition in a car. And the catch
is that it will not work if you are constantly thinking about not moving. The only thing you should be
thinking about while standing is your response to the delivery.
It must have taken hundreds of hours of practice to get it into his system, so as to make it absolutely
seamless; Dravid went through the grind. Nothing great was ever accomplished without passion.
He went on to have the best Test series of his career in England in 2011, where he not only got runs
but was extremely fluent in getting them. Yet the adjustment he had made meant he didnt have a
second line of defence so if he was beaten, he was likely to get bowled, not struck on the pad. And
that was what happened in Australia.
Dravid had been aware of the risks involved, but it was a gamble he had been ready to take. There
was a hullabaloo about Dravids dismissals in Australia as if being bowled was dishonourable.
Being dismissed essentially means being beaten by a bowler. What difference does it make if one is
bowled, lbw or caught behind?
Knowing Dravid, if he had decided to play on, he would have found ways, yet again, to address the
slip. For him, nothing was unachievable.
Perhaps that is what made him the most evolved cricketer of this era. Change didnt mean only
survival for him; it also meant the maturity to create endlessly. His desire for growth was intense
enough to work on both conscious and unconscious levels: while he intentionally worked on his

trigger movement and playing beside the line, things like his stance which was more upright in the
latter half of his career and the straighter descent of the bat happened almost automatically over the
period.
In cricket, as in life, it is not the most talented who survive, nor the most intelligent, but the ones
who are most responsive to change. Dravids career was an eternal quest to get better. Everything he
did was to, as he puts it best, deliver the bat at the right time.
Former India opener Aakash Chopra is the author of Out of the Blue, an account of Rajasthans 2010-11 Ranji Trophy victory.
This article was first published on March 19, 2012 on ESPNcricinfo

Dravid opened the innings only 23 times in Tests, but he scored four centuries in those innings. Only six Indian
openers have scored more hundreds: Sunil Gavaskar, Virender Sehwag, Gautam Gambhir, Navjot Sidhu, Wasim
Jaffer and Vinoo Mankad.

[ 6 ]

A fascinating captain and the job he fell out of love with

SIDHARTH MONGA

ahul Dravid became the best batsman, wicketkeeper, short leg, silly point and slip he could
R
become. It is a fairly prosaic, unglamorous thing to say of a cricketer, but it is a difficult achievement
to pull off. To use every bit of talent and time; to be in the right physical, psychological and
emotional state to do so. As a player, Dravid did just that.
Dravid the captain was a different story; more fascinating and contradictory too. He brought more
natural talent and flair to captaincy than he did to batting, yet it can be argued Dravid didnt become
the best captain he could have been. Having recently become a father when he took over captaincy full
time, he strove to look at cricket as just a sport, not more, which should in part explain the sense of
adventure he brought to captaincy he hated losing, didnt fear it. Yet so careworn had he become by
the end of it all that he uncharacteristically sat on a series lead in his last Test in charge. No followon, despite a 319-run lead against England at The Oval, no push for a win.
Dravid brought dynamism to Indias ODI cricket, shaking up a team in flux, defending small totals
with attacking fields, refusing formulaic captaincy, yet the lasting memory of him as ODI captain
remains that March afternoon in the West Indies when India were knocked out in the first round of the
World Cup.
Dravid knew that in India a captain, a team, are always judged by how they do in World Cups. It was
as if in those three matches in Trinidad, all the good work of the previous years had been undone. He
didnt quit immediately, but by the end of the England tour later that year, he was a spent man. The
tension that the clashes between the coach, Greg Chappell, and some Indian players both parties
equally headstrong brought, the expectations, the intensity, they all consumed him. One fine day in
2007 he let go. He had stopped enjoying it.
That, though, wasnt the case when Dravid was first made the full-time captain, in late 2005. Dont
get it wrong: he surely enjoys his batting, but during some of Dravids best efforts with the bat you
could imagine him gritting his teeth and going through an unpleasant experience others had shirked.
Captaincy, you could see, he enjoyed. Small tricks on the field, big plans off it. He had acumen, he had
vision, and most importantly, as he said in an interview in January 2006, the will to keep the game
moving.
Naturally intelligent, a balanced individual, a fan of Mark Taylor s captaincy, Dravid was arguably
Indias most tactically proficient and aggressive on-field captain. There was something delightfully
unpredictable about India under him. In November 2003, standing in as captain, Dravid opened an
ODI innings with a spinner. In the famous two-and-a-half-day Test in Mumbai in 2004-05, standing in
again, he introduced Murali Kartik ahead of Anil Kumble, while defending just 106. In Multan he
declared with Sachin Tendulkar on 194 because it made cricketing sense to him that the Pakistan
openers be given a thorough examination before stumps; it was a flat pitch, and India would need time
to force a result.

When he got the reins full-time, he left a Dravid imprint on the team. Before his first Test as fulltime captain, he tried to make team meetings more interactive, getting senior players to speak about
some of their experiences. Soon he took India to Pakistan, and on a flat pitch he played with five
bowlers. If a man could bring this edge to India-Pakistan Tests, long infamous for the teams fear of
losing to the arch enemy, and thus for drab cricket, that man could be dangerous with the right
bowlers to back him up. Three Tests later he played five bowlers, against England in Mohali,
dropping his good friend and the player of the best innings ever played in Tests, VVS Laxman.
Under Dravid, India began to focus on bowlers, under him India won their first Test in South
Africa, their first series in the West Indies since 1971, and their first in England since 1986. The
salesmen often credit the IPL for Indias big chases in ODIs of late, but back in the days of two
formats, 14 of Indias record 17 consecutive successful chases came under Dravid.
However, setting fields, picking XIs, managing bowling changes, pushing for wins, staying
aggressive, keeping the game moving forward, is just one part of the job especially in India. The
assumption that everybody who has made it to the India team will respect everybody else, will do his
best to win matches, will not have differences with team-mates, that a captain will not have to go out
of his way to maintain harmony among a group of individuals with the same goals, is as idyllic as it
is adult. An India captain has to understand various equations in a side, has to, at times, bring himself
down to the level of intellect of the other or raise his own. He also has to deal, fight, argue and work
with the selectors, who have to balance the interests of their zones with national ones. It is near
impossible for an India captain to stay apolitical. Equally a thick skin is a must.
During Dravids time, the need for such a leader soon arose. All it took was an outsider, another
complex personality, the domineering and outspoken coach, Chappell, trying to bring his ideas to
India. It was arguably the most tumultuous and divisive period in Indian cricket. It was also the dirtiest
time. In these cases, who is right and who is wrong is often inconsequential. Was Chappell not right in
suggesting that Virender Sehwag and Zaheer Khan get fit when he did? Was Chappell not right in
suggesting that India have an eye on the future? At the same time, were the players lying when they
say that Chappell created an atmosphere of insecurity, fear, humiliation and mistrust in the dressing
room? The truth will never come out even if every party involved writes books.
The only absolute truth is that the loss was that of the Indian cricket team Dravids team. His
vision was torn apart, his achievements as captain forgotten. For all popular purposes, he was now
just Chappells puppet a notion lacking respect, and given strength by Sourav Gangulys comments
in 2011 that Dravid didnt have the guts to stand up to Chappell. The fact, though, was that even Dravid
wanted fitter cricketers who were not stagnating, but perhaps he couldnt control the personality flaws
of everyone else involved.
It is a measure of Dravid the person that even when Chappell was being written off by almost
everyone, Dravid did not dissociate himself from the former coach. He still talked of those days using
the pronoun we. And he admitted things could have been done differently, that perhaps personalities
could have been handled differently. I think when you look back at any stage of your career, there
are things you could have done differently, and that captaincy period is no different, he said. In
terms of intention, of what we were trying to achieve, I have no doubt in my mind that it was on the
right path. Sure, we made mistakes, sure, there were things that we did right, and maybe some of the
results didnt show up right away. They did show up later on, but thats just the way it is.
And so cricket ceased being just sport. It became something bigger that consumed everything: the

administrators, the players, the performances, the fans, the media. One party manoeuvred one half, the
other took the remaining two quarters. The whole nation was divided. Caught between all this was the
captain, hoping desperately for results in the World Cup, because ultimately only that would matter in
India come Judgement Day.
Shrewder man-managers, less intense people, might have done better. During those days Dravid
was very much the great tactician accidentally captaining the wrong side, a team he didnt know at all.
Everything was draining; daily activities he used to look forward to earlier were now chores.
External factors began to matter much more. He admitted there were days when he woke up not
looking forward to captaining India. This was during the England tour, where he settled for a 1-0
series win. That let on in no uncertain terms that he was afraid of losing, of what people might say if
he lost, through some miracle of the order of Headingley 1981, in an attempt to add to Indias meagre
five wins in England.
Dravid the captains goose, though, was cooked months before, on that March afternoon in
Trinidad. It was the most poignant sight of his career. Munaf Patel has just become the last man
dismissed, with India 69 short of Sri Lankas 254, and thus out of the tournament, played on slow and
low pitches ideally suited to Indias style of play. Dravid has been chewing his nails, with Dinesh
Karthik and Anil Kumble sitting next to him, and Sachin Tendulkar and Virender Sehwag in the row
behind. Now he gets up, runs his left hand across his eye. Is it a tear he is trying to hide? Its like
something has left him. Kumble consoles him. It is clear, though, that trying to be the best captain he
could be is not as easy as being the best cricketer he could be.
Sidharth Monga is an assistant editor at ESPNcricinfo

Dravid scored 860 runs in World Cups at an average of 61.42. Among batsmen who scored at least 750 World Cup
runs only Viv Richards has a better average (1013 runs at 63.31).

[ 7 ]

The best batting happens when you are batting in the present
INTERVIEW BY SAMBIT BAL
December 2003

ill Adelaide 2003, most epic performances by Indian batsmen on foreign soil had either been in
T
vain or, at most, had helped salvage a draw. Rahul Dravids vigil in both innings of that Test marked a
watershed moment. His double-hundred in the first saved India from catastrophe, and after an
unexpected burst from Ajit Agarkar set the stage, Dravid made sure India got over the ropes.
This interview was conducted a few days later, in his hotel room in sleepy Hobart. Given that he has
always been a man of method, I was keen to explore the processes of batting, unique to every batsman,
with him. His press conferences can often be dull because he chooses to play safe, but his
thoughtfulness and power of articulation make him a wonderful interviewee.
Do you think youre at the peak of your game at the moment?
Id like to believe not. Lets put it this way: Im batting better than I have ever batted before, but I
would like to believe that I can get better. I have batted well in the last couple of years, but never have I
felt that this is it and that this is the best I can do.
Youve hardly had a bad series since that big hundred against Australia in Kolkata. Can you
pinpoint any aspect of your game that you feel has improved?
I cant pinpoint any one thing, because there isnt any one thing I have done differently. It is a
combination of things. It is the confidence of doing well consistently, and the maturity gathered over
the years. With experience you learn to trust your game more than you did as a youngster. Also, I
think I am getting into better positions while playing the body position, the head position, the
balance, and certainly I am in a better state of mind.
Lets put it another way: is there any weakness that you have managed to eliminate?
I have looked at all areas of my game and worked hard on all of them. I have really worked on my
physical fitness. I think its a question of everything coming together. It is generally accepted that the
best years for a batsman are around the age of 30. I have a few years of experience at international
level now, so it all adds up.
You certainly seem more positive about your strokeplay.
I am more positive because I am more confident, I am getting runs, I am batting better, I am getting
into better positions. Its not that I have made a conscious decision to go out and play more strokes.
Your last truly bad series was in Australia [1999-00]. Since then you have not really failed in
series anywhere. Even in New Zealand [2002-03], you scored some runs.
Actually, I thought I was playing quite well in New Zealand. The 70 that I got in the first Test I rate
quite highly among all my knocks. The conditions were really tough. Things didnt go well after that
but I got a 39 in the second Test and I was batting quite well when I got out to a rank bad ball.
What were the lessons from that bad series in Australia?

That whole phase was quite tough for me. Three Tests against Australia and then hardly a break
before we played two Tests against South Africa at home. I had more doubts about my game in that
period than Ive ever done. What really helped were my six months of county cricket in England. It
came at the right time because I needed to get away, to a new environment where I could just relax and
be myself and play cricket and enjoy it. I was on my own, and I learned things about myself and my
game.
What do you think really went wrong in Australia on that tour? Did you, like Sanjay Manjrekar
before you, who was also a good technician, fail because you got bogged down?
I was out of form. No two ways about it. I was not batting well. I was not getting into good positions. I
got out to balls that I had lost track of. I didnt feel confident. Things got better as the tour went on,
and I got a few runs in the one-dayers. But in the Test matches I just didnt bat well. Lets just say that I
wasnt good enough and they were too good for me. I didnt fail last time because I played fewer
shots, because most times I wasnt batting long enough. In Adelaide, I got a 35, which wasnt a bad
start, and perhaps if I had converted that into a 70 or 80, things would have been different. But after
that, I was hardly spending time in the crease.
Is there anything you feel you are doing better now? Any particular stroke that you think you
are playing better?
I think Im driving a little better on the off side. When I look at some of my old videos I realise that I
was perhaps driving much less then. I was always a good cutter; its a shot I have always played well,
especially abroad. But I am getting more forward now, and my front-foot driving is more sure.
Its not very natural for an Indian player to be a good cutter. You pull quite well too.
Thats because I played a lot of cricket on matting wickets. That really helped develop my back-foot
game. With the kind of bounce you get on matting, you need to cut and pull well. And I was quite
conscious thatI needed to play these shots well if I was ever picked for the national side. I remember
people like [Javagal] Srinath telling me that if I wanted to do well abroad, I had to cut and pull well.
So I made a conscious effort to develop these two shots. Sometimes while playing in domestic
cricket, its easy to lose these shots, because on those wickets you dont really need them. They are
just not an option. So you learn other skills to score runs. But I always kept working on them because
I knew I would need them abroad. People dont give you too many balls to drive in international
cricket.
For a while you were not an automatic choice for the one-day team. You were dropped on a few
occasions too. Did this change your approach to batting?
I was conscious of the fact that I needed to improve if I wanted to come back into the one-day team. I
knew I had certain strengths that were useful to the team, but I knew I had to get better. Being left out
of the team is not a nice feeling. I went back and worked on certain areas of my one-day game, like
playing with soft hands, trying out a few new strokes. I had to look hard at which areas needed work.
Maybe earlier I used to go into one-day games thinking of batting a lot of overs. One-day cricket has
changed a bit. Sides now bat deep and a lot more runs are scored. I had to adjust my thought processes
to that. Experience teaches you things; it teaches you to think differently and helps you play
differently.
You obviously place a lot of importance on thinking about your game?
Oh, yes. The mind does help sharpen your skills. When you are in the right frame of mind, a lot of
things fall into place. I cant describe what the right frame of mind is, it varies from situation to

situation, from player to player. What might make me a little nervous and a little tense might not make
another player nervous. It is a process of self-discovery.
How do you prepare for a match?
I try to have as many nets as possible in the last couple of days before the match. When I feel
comfortable with my game, I stop. Then I start thinking about the match. I look at the wicket. I try to
analyse the kind of bowlers I will be playing, their strengths and weaknesses. I replay in my mind the
memories of my last encounter with them. I look at videos if theyre available. If a bowler got me out
the last time, I try to think about how I got out, what mistake I committed.
And I do my best to be in a relaxed state of mind, because thats when I play at my best. I try to slow
things down a couple of days before the game. I have long lunches, do things in an unhurried way.
The morning of the match, I always get up a couple of hours before we have to get to the ground, so
that I have plenty of time to get ready. I take my time to have a bath, wear my clothes, eat breakfast. I
never rush things, and that sort of sets up my mood for the rest of the day.
Then, if the facilities permit, I have a net at the ground. I try to be flexible about my routine. If you
have a set routine, if you say, I must do this and this, then it can be counter-productive, because
sometimes you may not have facilities at the ground. At some grounds the practice pitches are so bad
that it can actually harm your confidence to bat on them. The facilities in Australia are very good, so I
might have a net. It also depends on weather; if its hot and sweaty, maybe I will skip it, because it
takes too much energy.
Do you do visualisation?
A little bit. There is always a bat in the dressing room. I hold the bat in my hands and go through
some of the shots I might play. Before sleeping the previous night I spend 15 minutes running through
the next day and how I would like it to pan out for me, structuring my thoughts.
What do you do while waiting for your turn to bat?
I try to be relaxed. I never put any pressure on myself. I watch the game. I try to go out in the light and
watch. I look at field settings, the bounce, the bowling changes. I think about the game but I am quite
relaxed. I might have a cup of tea and talk to someone sitting next to me. If its a long partnership, I
walk around, do a bit of stretching to get the blood circulation going. But I dont get into the game. I
like to conserve my mental energies for batting in the middle.
Describe what happens when you walk out to the middle. A wicket has just fallen, perhaps to a
great ball, and you are making your way out.
I like to get in quite quickly, it gets my legs moving. You do feel nervous. You feel the butterflies in
the stomach every time you walk out to bat, regardless of whether you have played 100 Tests or ten.
You need that bit of nervous energy; it tells you that you are switched on. I would worry if I didnt
feel it. I have a look at the wicket, then have a little conversation with the other batsman, which is quite
important because it makes you feel that you are not alone out there.
What kind of first ball do you like to receive? Are you happier leaving it, or do you like it hitting
the middle of your bat?
I have thought about this. All that I am thinking at that moment is that I want to be there for the second
ball. Of course, I would love a full toss on leg stump. Its always nice to feel the ball in the middle of
the bat, but at the beginning of an innings its good to be able to leave as many balls as possible. It
gives you a sense of where your off stump is. It gives you the confidence that you wont be forced to
play a lot of balls that you dont have to play.

How you do you plan an innings?

I have had a look at the wicket earlier, so I kind of know my stroke options. I know the things that I
should not do. I also have chats with other batsmen in the team to see if their reading of the wicket
matches mine. For instance, on the first morning of a Test match, cover-driving is not always the best
option, because the ball is doing a bit. So I might think that Ill try to hang on till tea maybe, before I
use that shot. Of course, if I get a half-volley, I will drive it. But it is not a percentage shot in the
morning. You need to be flexible. You might think the pitch will behave in a certain way, and it can
turn out to be completely different.
In India the stroke-making options are very limited. Its very difficult to generate power on the
square-of-the-wicket strokes. Places like Australia, England and South Africa really give you a lot of
freedom with your strokeplay; once you are set, you can really play all your shots.
While batting, are you always looking at the ball? I mean not only from the bowlers hand but
also tracking it from the wicketkeepers gloves?
I do that sometimes. Particularly if I am struggling with my concentration or if I want to take my
focus away from negative thoughts. I might say, I will just watch the ball for the next couple of overs.
Sometimes telling yourself to concentrate doesnt work, so you try to focus on something else.
Concentration is one of the strongest aspects of your game. Is that something youve always
had?
Some of it is natural but a lot comes with practice. I always try to work on it in the nets. I always treat
nets as a match. Its very rarely that I would have a casual net, just to knock a few balls around. I play
every ball in the nets like I would in a match. I really hate getting out in the nets. I create the sort of
intensity that I would need in a match. That helps my concentration. If I think the conditions will help
swing and seam in a match, I will try to leave as much as I can outside the off stump in the nets.
Driving and edging in the nets is not okay with me.
Can you describe how it is facing a ball in the middle? Sachin Tendulkar once said that the ideal
mental condition is to have a blank mind.
It is possible to blank your mind. Thats the ideal situation, and thats the challenge. If you can blank
the mind, suspend your thoughts and just watch the ball and react to it without cluttering your
thinking, thats the ideal situation. It happens at times, when you are playing well, you are confident
but it comes and goes. During a long innings, you have patches of 30 or 40 minutes when you think
that you had that. Its the closest you feel to being in the zone.
How does being in the zone affect your batting?
To start with, you pick up the line and length of the ball more clearly, and much earlier. And then you
are able to respond to each ball purely on its merit. The best batting happens when you are batting in
the present. Its about controlling the controllables. You cant control the last ball or the next ball, but
if you can be fully present to play the ball at hand, bring all your mind, your concentration, to
respond to that ball, then thats it. You are not thinking about the state of the match, the condition of
the pitch or the previous ball. Your mind, energy, hands and eyes are responding only to that moment.
Its the closest you can come to purity; its a special feeling.
How can you create this state?
You cant. If you could, you would always be in that state, because you know how it feels. Its
something you aspire to, but you cant create it consciously, and sometimes you even do well without
it. Sometimes you can have your fears and your doubts and still come away scoring runs. But you

cant reach that state if you are tired. If you are physically exhausted, its difficult to focus your mind.
Thats why physical fitness is so important. The fitter you are, the greater your chances of reaching
that condition.
What goes through your mind when you benefit from a dropped catch?
Youre glad to still be there. But you try to put it out of your mind and focus on the next ball.
And when you get hit?
It makes me more determined. Its like a wake-up call. Ive been hit badly only a couple of times, and
it has made me fight and concentrate harder. It happened in the West Indies [2001-02], and the situation
demanded that I stayed in.
But you know, I really admire the cricketers who played fast bowling without helmets. To play that
quality of fast bowling without protection is a very special thing. I can never imagine playing fast
bowling without a helmet because I grew up playing with helmets, and how I would have reacted
without a helmet, I dont know. But batsmen of that era even the other equipment wasnt good then
I have huge respect for them.
What was the state of your mind on the morning of the last day at Adelaide?
We had a quiet confidence. We knew we had a great chance to win and we knew we could do it. Of
course, we were a bit nervous, and it was natural. We had lost a lot of matches we should have won in
the past. I was quite determined to not let that happen again. Its a sick feeling to think that you could
have won. We have worked so hard as a team, all of us, John [Wright], Andrew [Leipus], Greg [King],
so we had to win.
Did you tell yourself that you wanted to be there at the end?
I told myself in the morning that I needed to do whatever it took, that whatever happened I would try
to be there at the end. I had to give it all I had. You tell yourself that all the time, that you always want
to be there at the end. It doesnt always happen. But it happened that day, and it was a special feeling.
Has the enormity of the achievement sunk in yet? Are you aware this might be your personal
slice of history, that the Adelaide Test might be remembered as Dravids Test?
The real significance of it can only be judged after a few years. A few months ago I was told I would
always be remembered for that 148 at Headingley [in 2002]. Im not done yet. Only after I am done
will I know what my best moment was.
Sambit Bal is the editor of ESPNcricinfo. This interview was first published in Wisden Asia Cricket magazine

In the words of his peers

It is not an exaggeration to say that a whole strand of the game a rich vein that runs through the games poetic heart
departs the scene with Indias greatest-ever No. 3. Playing T20 cricket wont teach anyone to become the next Rahul Dravid.
Ed Smith, A gentleman champion of timeless steel
and dignity, page 60

[ 8 ]

The rock around whom the rest moved

JOHN WRIGHT

et me begin with a story. In 2000, Kent were playing in Lancashire, and one evening I went out
L
with Rahul for a meal. It was his first year as a county pro and the main difficulty he seemed to be
having in adjusting to England was this business of driving from city to city. We drove into town but
there werent many parking spaces to be found. The only empty spots we could see were in a parking
permit zone. It was late in the evening; who would be bothered, I thought. I told Rahul it was fine if he
parked right there. He asked me if I was sure, and since we were both hungry, I said, Of course.
We came out of the restaurant after dinner and the car was gone. It had been towed away and he had
to get it out of the lock-up. He is, of course, a very calm and smart guy, so right from that stage, I
think, he knew never to listen to everything I said.
Kent was a long experience of matches, meals and car rides, but our paths had crossed much
earlier, in 1996, when I first met Sourav and him. I was hugely impressed with both of them. Rahul
was a very good player, very sound and correct. Technically he stood out. We had seen the likes of
Sachin Tendulkar but not someone like Rahul. You saw that he could play outside India. He looked
very good in defence and knew how to put together an innings. I thought this guy was going to be a
really great player. He was talented and humble but confident.
When I went to Kent, I wanted to sign players who either wanted to make it or wanted to use the
experience: players who were hungry, not those who wanted to come and get a contract. We were
having some problems with our batting and needed an overseas professional to bolster it, while Rahul
wanted to experience county cricket, to try to make himself a better player. I knew he would not only
produce runs but would be an extremely good influence on our young players, like Robert Key and
Ed Smith. It would help them to watch Rahul train. He had a tough year but he met with the
expectations people had of him. He was everything Kent needed then.
A lot of people ask me what role he had in me getting the India job. I have to say it was all very
casual, not orchestrated in any way. I remember telling Sourav and Rahul that if the job came up Id
like to be considered, but it was the boards decision and was beyond them. What I do know is, Rahul
had seen how I coached, so it may have put me in the frame.
Being Indias first foreign coach and living in the country could sometimes be a lonely job. Sourav
and I had very different styles of working, and I think Rahul and I went back a longer way. I dont
remember ever having to calm Rahul down, and he was someone I could always talk to if I needed a
hand. If Sourav turned up late and we were about to leave for a tour, Rahul and I would do the press
conference. We always knew that.
He took over in Pakistan in 2004 when Sourav was injured, and won that first Test in Multan. He
made a strong call to declare when Sachin was on 190-odd. I was aware milestones were important,
and yes, we had sent a message out to Sachin that he should hurry up in getting to the double. Rahul
had known the consequences when he took the decision.

He always had wonderful leadership qualities, and since he had never pushed for the captaincy, the
dressing-room atmosphere stayed fine. He was also the rock of our batting, the one around whom
everything else could move. You had Laxman and Tendulkar, but with Dravid at the crease the
dressing room felt very calm. The only thing he used to worry about was his running between the
wickets, particularly when he batted with Sourav. There were times I thought that was the only way
they would get him out.
It helped me hugely to have Rahul around. Sourav was great as captain when I look back at it now,
Sourav brought qualities to the team that were rare but the issue was that both of us were very
emotional people. We were very driven, and Rahul was a real calming influence. It very quickly
became the three of us. We used to bounce a lot of things off each other. But Sourav was the leader;
we would argue and he would do exactly what he liked.
Much has been written about Rahuls game and his personality, and how he managed to remain
grounded even in the circus of Indian cricket but thats fairly well known, so Id like to reveal a part
of his nature he managed to keep masked by generally being a good person. He was an absolutely
fierce competitor. People forget how ruthless he was out in the middle. You cant do what he did
without having inner resolve. I think it stems from his wonderful defensive technique, but I am sure he
also had the confidence in his ability to survive when the bowler was on top. If he decided to defend,
there werent many ways people could get him out.
I think Rahul always wanted to be and turned out to be one of the great batsmen in world cricket
and in the history of Indian batting. There were Sunny Gavaskar and Sachin, brilliant players in
different ways, and then there was Rahul. It is now beginning to strike me that Rahul was always
acutely aware of how many runs he had got and what his record was. We never talked about that, but
you dont get runs if you dont have some goals.
I have never seen a more dedicated cricketer than Rahul in the nets. He was able to simulate a game
situation, not just by going through the motions but by making every ball count. It was like he didnt
want to get out even in the nets. In a situation when he had three or four bowlers going at him, he
wanted to compete. He was always testing himself and worked on whatever needed the time, like his
technique, or on sorting out some kink.
One of the things I found interesting while watching Rahul play in his late 20s was what he was able
to get out of the experience and the opposition. He never made the same mistake twice. He learnt
hugely in one-day cricket which probably was an area he had to work at a little bit more than others.
He had been dropped from the Indian one-day team and then went on to come back and have a very
good World Cup. He was a great student of the game and never made the same mistake twice. He had
all the shots but he worked hard at turning the strike over, getting the singles, and dropping the ball on
the on side, when normally you might put it on the off side. At the start people would try to slow him
down, but then he worked out a way so they couldnt do that. He also probably improved his ability to
loft the ball.
For people like him, what you do is far more important than what you say. Kumble, Tendulkar,
Laxman and Dravid were very professional. When Sehwag, Yuvraj, Zaheer Mohammad Kaif and
Harbhajan came into the team they were all young boys. I think Sourav counselled them emotionally,
and they learnt a lot from how Rahul and the others practised. It had a very powerful effect on all of
them.
Maybe his type of batsman is going now. There is probably Alastair Cook, if youre looking for a

comparison, but few others spring to mind. Rahul is the most obvious example of what you want in a
defensive No. 3. He was called Jam because his father worked for a jam company, but I felt a better
name for him was gem. People trusted him.
John Wright, Indias coach between 2000 and 2005, spoke to ESPNcricinfo senior editor Sharda Ugra

Dravid became the second-oldest batsman to score over 1000 Test runs in a calendar year when he made 1145
runs in 2011, when almost 39. Don Bradman had scored 1025 runs in 1948 when he was nearly 40.

[ 9 ]

A gentleman champion of timeless steel and dignity

ED SMITH

hen Rahul Dravid walked into the dressing room of the St Lawrence ground in Canterbury on a
W
cold spring morning, you could tell he was different from all the others. He did not swagger with
cockiness or bristle with macho competitiveness. He went quietly round the room, shaking the hand
of every Kent player greeting everyone the same, from the captain to the most junior. It was not the
mannered behaviour of a seasoned overseas professional; it was the natural courtesy of a real
gentleman. We met a special human being first, an international cricketer second.
The cricketer was pretty good, too. Dravid joined Kent for the 2000 season, and I spent much of it
at No. 4, coming in one after Dravid (not that he was the departing batsman very often). That meant I
had some wonderful opportunities to bat alongside the player who became the highest-scoring No. 3
of all time.
What did I learn? I learnt that real toughness takes many different forms. Dravid could appear shy
and slightly vulnerable off the pitch; in the middle, you sensed a depth of resilience. Many overseas
players liked to set themselves apart from the county pros as though they had to swear more loudly
and clap their hands more violently to prove that international cricketers were tougher than the rest.
Not Dravid. He never paraded his toughness. It emerged between the lines of his performances.
Instead, he always talked about learning, about gathering new experiences as though his cricketing
education wasnt complete, as though there were many more strands of his craft to hone. His journey,
you could tell, was driven by self-improvement.
One word has attached itself to Dravid wherever he has gone: gentleman. The word is often
misunderstood. Gentlemanliness is not mere surface charm the easy lightness of confident
sociability. Far from it: the real gentleman doesnt run around flattering everyone in sight; he makes
sure he fulfils his duties and obligations without drawing attention to himself or making a fuss.
Gentlemanliness is as much about restraint as it is about appearances. Above all, a gentleman is not
only courteous, he is also constant: always the same, whatever the circumstances or the company.
In that sense, Dravid is a true gentleman. Where many sportsmen flatter to deceive, Dravid runs
deep. He is a man of substance, morally serious and intellectually curious. For all his understatement,
he couldnt fail to convey those qualities to anyone who watched him properly.
I last bumped into Dravid late in 2011 at a charity dinner at the Sydney Cricket Ground. He was the
same as he always has been warm, self-deprecating, curious about the lives of others. As ever, he
made a point of asking about my parents their health and happiness although he has never met
them. Family and friendship, you sense, are central to his life and his values.
In the q&a that followed his speech, one answer got close to the core of his personality. What
motivated him still, after all these years and so many runs? Dravid said that as a schoolboy he
remembered many kids who had at least as much desire to play professional cricket as he did they

attended every camp and net session, no matter what the cost or the difficulty of getting there. But you
could tell from just one ball bowled or one shot played that they simply didnt have the talent to
make it. He knew he was different. I was given a talent to play cricket, Dravid explained. I dont
know why I was given it. But I was. I owe it to all those who wish it had been them to give my best,
every day.
What a brilliant inversion of the usual myth told by professional sportsmen: that they had
unexceptional talent and made it to the top only because they worked harder. Dravid spoke the truth.
Yes, he worked hard. But the hard work was driven by the desire to give full expression to a godgiven talent.
On the field, what set Dravid apart was a rare combination of technical excellence, mental
toughness and emotional restraint. He was restrained in celebration, just as he was restrained in
disappointment exactly as the true gentleman should be. And yet his emotional self-control coexisted with fierce competitiveness and national pride.
Dravid single-handedly disproved the absurd argument that tantrums and yobbishness are a sign of
how much you care or, worse still, how much you want it. He was rarely outdone in terms of
hunger or passion. And he was never outdone in terms of behaviour or dignity. Those twin aspects of
his personality the dignified human being and the passionate competitor ran alongside each other,
the one never allowed to interfere with the other. He knew where the boundaries were, in life and in
cricket.
I am an optimist by nature. I do not think that sport is perpetually declining from some mythical
golden age. But sometimes I cannot avoid the sense that a certain type of sportsman is an increasingly
endangered species. I have that feeling now, as Dravid declares his innings closed. No longer will he
take guard with that familiar hint of politeness, even deference. No longer will he raise his bat to the
crowd as if he is genuinely thanking them for their applause the bat tilted outwards in
acknowledgement of the supporters, not just waved frantically in an orgy of personal celebration. No
longer will he stand at first slip, concise and precise in his movements a cricketer first, an athlete
second. No longer will the high Dravid back-swing and meticulous footwork link this generation with
the great technicians of the past.
It would be nice to argue that no cricketer is irreplaceable, that sport is defined by continuity rather
than full stops, that there will soon be another Dravid, another champion cricketer of timeless steel
and dignity. But I dont think there will be. I think Dravid will be remembered as the last in a great
tradition of batsmen whose instincts and temperament were perfectly suited to Test match cricket. It is
not an exaggeration to say that a whole strand of the game a rich vein that runs through the games
poetic heart departs the scene with Indias greatest-ever No. 3. Playing T20 cricket wont teach
anyone to become the next Rahul Dravid.
In years to come, perhaps too late, we may realise what we have lost: the civility, craft and dignity
that Dravid brought to every cricket match in which he played.
Ed Smith is a former England, Middlesex and Kent player and the author, most recently, of Luck What It Means and Why It
Matters. This article was first published on ESPNcricinfo on March 13, 2012

Dravid took five catches in the Chennai Test against Australia in 1998. Four of the catches were off Anil Kumble, and
one off Venkatapathy Raju.

[ 10 ]

The eternal student

GREG CHAPPELL

M en dont say these things, but I have a genuine affection for Rahul Dravid.
Whats not to like about him? He is a nice guy who is genuine, tough, strong, honest, reliable, and
very dependable; and one hell of a cricketer to boot.
Rahul gave everything he had on the cricket field, and you cant ask for more than that. He wasnt
prepared to give less than that.
He was an excellent deputy, in that he gave whole-hearted support without ever thinking he might be
better than the incumbent, and when he got the job he was a much better captain than he will ever be
credited with.
Rahul Dravid is a thinking mans cricketer. Everything he does on the cricket field and off it is
well-considered. He is not prone to making rash decisions or ill-considered remarks.
He became an excellent player because he had thought it through and worked out what he needed to
do to succeed. His success did not come by accident and it wasnt just about hard work. He was an
extremely skillful player who never stopped trying to improve himself. If he thought he could get
better at something, he analysed what he needed to do and then worked hard at making the
improvement.
Rahul is an avid reader, who reads in the search of knowledge with which to improve himself. He is
like a child in that he constantly asks questions and then asks why when you give him an answer. I like
that he challenged me to substantiate my arguments with sound reasoning.
I also like that once he was convinced, he could make instant adjustments to his game. I remember
one such occasion in a Test match at Feroz Shah Kotla Stadium in Delhi during a series against Sri
Lanka. The wicket was not easy to bat on because it was low and slow, and Sri Lanka had a fellow
called Muralitharan who could bowl a bit and who was making life difficult for most Indian batsmen.
Muralitharan took 7 for 100 in the first innings, in which Sachin Tendulkar made a patient century.
Rahul was one of many who had found scoring runs against Muralitharan difficult in the first innings.
Over dinner that night, he asked me how I thought he could play him better in the second innings. I
said that under the prevailing conditions I thought it was tough to do more than he had done that day.
He wouldnt accept that as an answer and insisted that I do better, so I said that he had to look for
scoring opportunities off every ball, no matter how hard it was.
Batting for survival against Murali in those conditions, I said, was not an option. Even if you
succeeded in surviving, you wouldnt make any runs, so the game would be lost anyway. When one
thinks of survival, the feet do not move well, which means that scoring opportunities will be missed.
This, I said, is a sure way to boost the bowler s confidence. The best way to build your own
confidence and dent that of the bowler is to score off every poor ball he bowls and some of his good

ones. The only way to do that, I said, was to look to make the danger zone (the area a metre or so in
front of a good stride forward) as small as possible by scoring from any delivery pitched marginally
full there or short of it.
Rahul asked me to explain further. I said that it was my opinion that the best way to survive was to
be positive in intent. By intending to score runs off every ball one would actually give oneself a better
chance of defending against the good balls.
Rahul became excited by the prospect of batting in the second innings and was quick to ask me to
throw some balls to him on the outfield the next morning so that he could practise the mindset that we
had discussed.
That he went out and scored a fluent 53 (run out) that day was more about his ability to interpret my
suggestion than the suggestion itself.
In that way, he was eminently coachable. He could take concepts and turn them into action because
of his intelligence and a strong belief in his ability. To be prepared to do this in the middle of a Test
match took courage. It was that sort of courage that made him the player that he was.
The same courage and belief made him a good captain. His propensity to think things through may
have meant that he was always going to appear conservative tactically, but going by that would be to
underestimate his ability to take calculated risks.
Rahul wanted to make India a tougher team. He knew that for that to happen, things had to change.
India had won very few times when chasing a target in ODIs. This was because they had no plan other
than to attack, which could be spectacularly successful or just as spectacularly not.
Rahul knew from his own experience as a player that success did not come by accident, so he
sought to change the way India went about their ODI cricket. He knew that partnerships were
important when batting and that the best way to slow the opposition run rate down was to take wickets.
Early wickets were important, but so were wickets in the middle overs of a one-day game. Up to that
point, India had been happy to try to contain with the ball and attack with the bat. Rahul decided to
reverse the game plan.
He wanted to take wickets regularly, so he identified bowlers who swung the ball, such as Irfan
Pathan and Sreesanth, and someone who got bounce, like Munaf Patel. He also wanted a spinner, such
as Ramesh Powar, who attacked and took wickets in the middle overs.
With the batting, he wanted partnerships, and good finishers who had poise and power the likes of
MS Dhoni and Yuvraj Singh. More than that, he wanted to use his batting strengths according to
situations rather than be tied to a set batting order. On occasions he used Pathan at the top of the
batting order to utilise his hitting power while the ball was hard and coming on to the bat. He knew
that Pathan found it harder to do that when the ball was soft and the spinners were operating, later in
the innings. This approach was far from conservative and was spectacularly successful.
To learn how to get better at chasing a target, Rahul kept asking the opposition to bat first, no
matter the conditions. Under his leadership, India won nine ODIs in a row against Pakistan and
England, and went on to complete a world record of 17 consecutive wins batting second.
A similar approach to Test cricket brought about Indias first overseas series victory in the West
Indies for 35 years and a first-ever Test victory in South Africa, which could quite easily have been
turned into a series win if the team had batted better in the second innings in the final Test in Cape

Town.
Sadly the success of the team was not universally enjoyed within the team. Some individuals felt
threatened by the new world order and appeared to work against Rahul. Had he been given the same
whole-hearted support in the role that he had given others, I think the recent history of Indian cricket
may have been very different and he could have gone on to become the most successful Indian captain
ever.
Former Australia batsman Greg Chappell was Indias coach for much of Rahul Dravids tenure as captain

In an ODI against South Africa in Kochi in 2000, Dravid outbowled Anil Kumble, taking 2 for 43 against Kumbles 0 for
48.

[ 11 ]

The master will see you now (and always)

SURESH RAINA

hen I think of Rahul Dravid, apart from all that he achieved in cricket, I think of his simplicity,
W
discipline, and the way he conducted himself on and off the field.
In all my time with the Indian team I never saw him late for anything training, team meetings or
any group activity. And he gave his complete attention to everything he did, whether it was a team
dinner or leading the squad to a social gathering. He took all his responsibilities seriously.
As a youngster, I found it easy to chat with him. He was always available and had tips for us about
life outside cricket. He always gave equal importance to every player, regardless of whether he
played for India or not. And his interest was genuine.
Looking at him and listening to him, you understood how he had managed to lead the kind of life
he had. And watching him closely, you understood why people looked up to him.
I always felt motivated when I chatted with him. As captain, his speeches in the dressing room and
on the field were simple, but they spurred you to do well. He communicated in a language you
understood and he paid attention to every player in the team.
I got a duck on my international debut, trapped leg-before by Muttiah Muralitharan. I was terribly
disappointed, but Rahul bhai told me I should not let it weigh me down because I had 10-15 years of
cricket ahead of me. It was a simple thing to say, but the way he said it made all the difference. It
helped me lift my head and believe in myself.
This was in 2005. As a young player it was difficult for me, Venugopal Rao and even MS Dhoni to
say much during team meetings, but Rahul bhai always made it a point to listen to us and gave us a lot
of confidence through these interactions. That was his other strength: to engage youngsters and let us
realise that even if there were no senior players in the team, the younger players were capable of
taking over.
One of my fondest memories is of Rahul bhai leading India to victory in the Test series in West
Indies in 2006. His magnificent fifties in Jamaica can never be forgotten, and I watch videos of those
innings, and his Adelaide century, from time to time, as they teach me so much. He tirelessly
supported Test cricket and never forgot to point out to us that no matter how much one-day and T20
cricket we played, it was important to perform in the five-day game because the satisfaction of
scoring a hundred in a Test match was a completely different feeling.
I was really happy when he was the one who gave me my Test cap in 2010 in Sri Lanka. Welcome
to the league, he said. You have been outstanding in ODIs and Twenty20. Now this is the real
cricket. Just go and play your natural game. I believe in you. I scored a century in the match, which
made Rahul bhai very happy. He told me how pleased he was, and also how lucky I was compared to
him, since he had got out on 95 on Test debut at Lords.

It was not only in the good times that he put an arm of support around me. During the toughest
phase of my career, he stood by me and helped me stay strong. Immediately after the 2007 World Cup
I was dropped and then suffered a knee injury. I was out of the Indian team for nearly 15 months. I was
young, without any support and mentoring, and I was disappointed and desperate.
I travelled to England, where India were on tour, to have John Gloster, the team physio, take a look
at my knee. Rahul bhai told me not to hurry back. He suggested that I spend time with my family and
not worry too much.
During this time I was at the National Cricket Academy in Bangalore, and he came for some net
sessions ahead of a Test tour. He stressed the importance of fitness and told me to concentrate on
proper training and gym sessions. He stayed in touch and texted me every time I did well, like when I
was the Man of the Tournament in the Challenger Trophy.
I am probably one of the few people who got his Test and ODI caps from the same person. Just like
he did while handing me my Test cap, he said a few interesting things while handing me my ODI one.
He said a lot of glamour, fame and money would surround me as an international player but the key
thing for me to keep in mind at all times was to never lose my focus on cricket, to be disciplined and
remember what I am as a person.
A good way to not lose focus, he said, was to never miss optional team training sessions. He never
missed them because he could get more time to face the net bowlers, get more quality feedback from
the coaches and senior players, because they would have more time to focus on him. Taking my cue
from him, I have never missed any optional nets. I believe such inputs come in handy and make a
good cricketer.
As for insights into my game, Rahul bhai never asked me to change anything. Before the 2011 tour
of the West Indies, there were several doubts raised about my technique against the short ball. He
understood the pressure I was under and told me it was all in the mind, and that I should just ignore
what others said about me. He said the pitches in the Caribbean were some of the toughest to bat on
and that he was impressed with my technique. I was leaving the short ball well, he said, and that my
back-foot play was very good, so the only thing I needed to continue doing was to stay positive.
As a player Rahul bhai was always focused. He could maintain a clear head for several hours in
challenging conditions on all kinds of pitches, in all formats. It is easy to admire him for these virtues
but you also wonder how he could manage those levels of concentration. I believe his focus was a
result of the simple life he led. He was down to earth, calm, and never had any interest in stuff like
cars and bikes. He was not attracted to the glamour attached to a cricketer s life. If you looked into his
kit bag, it was always clean. He wore simple and elegant clothes.
Dont be fooled by his simplicity, though. He played with a lot of passion and could never swallow
defeat easily. When we lost the one-day series in 2006 in the West Indies, he was very angry and said
we should have performed better.
He attached great importance to the India cap. I remember him taking on Jimmy Anderson after the
defeat at Lords in the 2011 one-day series. It was a rain-affected match, which we lost from a winning
position. Rahul bhai told Anderson, without mincing any words, that a young Indian team would
thrash England when they came to play one-dayers in India. Its a good thing then that we won the
home series 5-0!
Rahul bhai was more than a team-mate to me. He introduced me to a yoga teacher at the NCA to

learn visualisation and meditation techniques from. When I used to stand in the slips with him and
VVS Laxman, he would ask about my family, about life in the Uttar Pradesh hostel system from which
I had graduated, and then move on to talk about dinner plans. His ability to switch on and off was
amazing.
During the Tests in England in 2011, I was struggling with form, and asked for his opinion. He
asked me to relax, took me to a theatre in London, and invited me to share dinners with his family,
with whom I now have a very warm relationship. It was good to see this focused cricketer could
switch off once he stepped off the field.
The Indian dressing room will be a different place without Rahul bhai. His knowledge of the game,
his experience of handling pressure, how to calibrate a chase or set a target, his pitch-reading skills
they will all definitely be missed. He was always willing to do things for the team: ready to open,
ready to bat at No. 3, ready to keep, ready to captain. He was a responsible man, and through his
actions he inspired us to play from our hearts and give 100%.
Just like Dravid the batsman who never looked like getting out, Dravid the man will always remain
a part of my life.
India batsman Suresh Raina played 61 internationals alongside Rahul Dravid. Raina spoke to Nagraj Gollapudi, assistant
editor at ESPNcricinfo

Shane Warne dismissed Dravid more often than any bowler in Tests eight times in 13 Tests. In all international
cricket, Brett Lee leads the way, with 12 dismissals in 38 matches.

[ 12 ]

I cant recall beating him more than one ball in a row

JASON GILLESPIE

he game of cricket is the battle between bat and ball. It is about who loses patience first; that
T
determines the winner. Rahul Dravid was a master at staying patient for long, long periods of time. He
won the battles more often.
Good bowlers are able to put pressure on a batsman, no matter how good, and draw him out of his
comfort zone. How tough was Dravid? Dravid was so patient, he made you bowl to him. Because he
did not give his wicket away easily, you had to be incredibly disciplined against him in line and length
to get the better of him.
That was easier said than done. It is easy to assume, like many other fast bowlers might have done,
that you could settle into one line against Dravid, as opposed to someone like Virender Sehwag, who
can easily distract you with his penchant for strokes. Dravid, being a very disciplined player, was
never easy to lure. He had a set way of playing; he would always wait for a bowler to make a mistake,
unlike Sehwag, who tries to take it to the bowler.
Dravid complemented the more aggressive batsmen in the Indian batting line-up perfectly. He
brought stability to their batting order, which was full of stroke-makers like Sachin Tendulkar,
Sehwag, VVS Laxman and Sourav Ganguly.
He was a rock-solid player, someone who valued his wicket, someone against whom you knew you
were in for a real hard task. He could judge whether to play or leave the ball, especially early in his
innings. He knew where his off stump was an important asset to have for a top-order batsman.
Dravid had a simple game plan and he stuck to it. It comes back to patience: he had the patience to
grind out long innings and wait for the right ball to hit. He had his specific shots that he wanted to
play, and he would wait for the bowler to pitch in the area where he was comfortable playing an
attacking shot. That made him very difficult to get out.
The two best examples of how we lost the battle of wearing him down came in 2001 in Kolkata and
2003 in Adelaide. Both were good batting pitches. Our plan on both occasions was to be patient
ourselves and stick to good bowling areas. Certainly in Adelaide there was good bounce and carry,
and we thought that if we stuck to our plans we could get anyone out. But the way Dravid played,
essentially he was more patient than us bowlers. We became impatient, especially when he scored that
double-century, because we could not get him out, and that made us go away from our game plan.
That in turn worked for him because his plan was to wait for the bowler to lose patience.
Some might say our bowling attack in Adelaide was not as strong as the one in Kolkata, but I was
leading a very good bowling attack and we believed we could dominate the Indians. However, we
were just not good enough against Dravid. It was old-fashioned hard work, which he put in
successfully and we did not.
I cannot recall beating Dravid more than one ball in a row. I remember in Adelaide, in the first

innings, at one point I decided to have a real go at him and bowl a few short deliveries. He was
ducking them pretty comfortably, and then suddenly he played a hook shot. It was a sort of top edge
it went for a six and he got to his first hundred. I was pretty devastated. That was an example of when I
decided to move away from my game plan and he was well settled at the crease and took me on
confidently.
In 2001 when we went to India, we started off in Mumbai by winning the Test comfortably. In
Kolkata, having forced them to follow on, we felt we had won the game, having picked up early
wickets during their second innings. Dravid and Laxman together, we knew they were very good
players, but we thought if we kept at them, they wouldnt be able to deal with the pressure. But they
counterattacked perfectly. I remember Dravid just playing in the V with a very straight bat and
providing wonderful support to Laxman. We just could not dislodge them.
At the end of that fourth day when we returned to the dressing room, with Dravid and Laxman
unbeaten, we were like, Wow, what just happened? We were a little stunned and very disappointed.
We knew we were just one ball away from getting one of their wickets, but we couldnt produce that
one ball. Those guys had done something special and we had to respect their performance.
We all learn. On that 2001 trip, our fast bowlers plan was to bowl in the channel outside the off
stump, get the Indian batsmen playing on one side of the wicket, and create opportunities that way. But
we realised that Indian pitches were a lot flatter and slower and our plan would work only on
bouncier tracks. In 2004, when we returned to India, we accounted for that and changed our lines to
bowling a lot straighter and looking to hit the stumps every time. That worked, and it was one time
that even Dravid was circumspect and vulnerable.
The special thing about Dravid was that when he got a bad ball, he would be waiting for it and he
had the ability to put it away. He did not miss those opportunities to score. That is sometimes the
difference between a very good player and a great player: the ability to score when you get the chance
to score. And that is one of the reasons he averaged mid-50s consistently in Test cricket.
Many might call him a defensive batsman in the mould of a Jacques Kallis or a Michael Atherton,
but Dravid ranks up there with the great batsmen of the game. To simply refer to him as a defensive
player is selling him short as a batsman. He was a wonderfully gifted player and we all enjoyed the
way he played the game.
Former Australia fast bowler Jason Gillespie dismissed Dravid eight times in the 22 international matches he played against
India. Gillespie spoke to Nagraj Gollapudi, assistant editor at ESPNcricinfo, where this article was first published on March 9,
2012

Dravid is one of four batsmen to be bowled more than 100 times in all international matches. He was out that way
112 times. The others in the top four: Tendulkar (117), Border (110) and Steve Waugh (102).

[ 13 ]

His team, his time

RAHUL BHATTACHARYA

do my best to be in a relaxed state of mind because thats when I play at my best. I try to slow
I
things down a couple of days before the game. I have long lunches, do things in an unhurried way.
The morning of the match I always get up a couple of hours before we have to get to the ground, so
that I have plenty of time to get ready. I take my time to have a bath, wear my clothes, eat breakfast. I
never rush things, and that sort of sets up my mood for the rest of the day.
This was to Wisden Asia Cricket in Australia in December of 2003. Those were different times.
Rahul Dravid had become Indias batting leader but not still its captain; he had recently become a
husband but not yet a father. Two years on, this is the build-up to his first Test series as full-time
captain of India.
He spent the long evening of November 28 at the Wankhede in Mumbai, leading India to a serieslevelling win against South Africa. Seventy-eight not out chasing drenched, coarse batting: he
willed it, really. He applauded the spectators from mid-pitch moments after victory, called them
stars at the presentation ceremony, and at the press conference that followed, he paid tribute above
all to the unity within a team that had just completed an extraordinary turnaround in the one-day game.
He slept not a wink saw no point in it, probably could not have from the adrenaline of the past
month even if he wanted and took a 3am flight to Bangalore.
At 5.30am he was home and delighted to find awake not only his wife but also Samit Rahul Dravid,
all of six weeks (beam, soft smile, blush). He spent the whole of November 29 doing nothing,
absolutely nothing. The next morning he was on the plane to Chennai and by early afternoon at a
practice session that was the first involving Sourav Ganguly and Greg Chappell since their little email
misunderstanding. That evening he had a little meeting with Greg to talk about Test cricket, general
things, specific things to the match, departed to receive his wife and son at the airport, returned only
at half past ten and went to bed later than usual.
The following morning, December 1, he was at the ground with the team at 9.30am for a long
session under billowing skies. It included, among other things, support staff delivering balls in
Muralitharan action from atop chairs. At its completion he shuffled up to the first floor for a trophyunveiling ceremony, shuffled back down while the Sri Lanka captain and coach did their presser,
shuffled back up to do Indias, where he showed just who was in charge by admonishing a senior
journalists innuendo about Virender Sehwags niggle with a blunt, Theres no need to make issues
of little things.
Shortly after, he was in a selection meeting with Greg Chappell and Kiran More at the hotel.
Formally I will announce the XI only in the team meeting. Anyway its only one or two guys whove
missed out you need to tell those guys I would have already told. Following the selection
discussion, some food, bed for a bit. Then a captains meeting with the match officials. Now this.
This being Cricinfo Magazines first intrusion, which began at precisely 5.30pm in the coffee

shop, as scheduled. Throwing regular glances at the interviewer s wrist while speaking passionately,
the captain sprang up and shook hands in the middle of an answer at exactly a minute shy of 6pm.
Got to run, mate, another meeting.
This was the team meeting where Anil Kumble talked about his preparation for a Test match,
Sachin Tendulkar dwelled on a few differences between Test and one-day cricket, and the captain
himself, and VVS Laxman, relived their Adelaide partnership of 2003, because one of the things
were trying to do is make team meetings more interactive than watching endless replays of the
opposing batsmen. You realise when champions like Sachin or Anil talk about the game, how much of
time and thought they put into it its not that they become champions by just turning up.
On the heels of the team meeting, the team dinner, since anyway we have to eat food and people
tend to stay cooped up in their rooms and order room service and watch television. These are great
opportunities to sit around and talk, try and make it as informal as possible, dont try to make it too
heavy as if youre trying to give advice. I think Greg and Ian [Frazer] have been very good in that
way. An early night.
And after all that, three and a half days of weather-watching. This meant trips to inspect the ground,
on one of which he browsed the boundary, high-fiving the few hundred poor souls who had landed
there hoping against hope; a few sessions at the gym; acquainting himself with the new selectors;
providing his input on Indias itinerary for the tour to Pakistan; giving several interviews, engaging
in more relaxed interaction with the players; spending bonus time with his family; and revisiting parts
of Mike Brearleys The Art of Captaincy (on the menu over the last few months has been a book on
the NFL, one on boxing, and a couple on management, passed on by Frazer).
Chennai finished with four fruitless sessions of cricket. Then it was off to Delhi and the whole thing
began again and finished in triumph, but by that evening Kolkata was burning again and the following
day the Left and the BJP had found common cause in Parliament and it all promised to be just the start.
By Ahmedabad the poor chap was in hospital. This now is Dravids world.
It is different, he shrugs, smiles. I spoke to a few captains before I took the job up and in the
course of even when I was vice-captain whether its been a Mark Taylor or Steve Waugh or
Gavaskar, the basic thing they told me is that you grow into the job. One of the things you realise is
the pace of the whole thing. It needs a bit of getting used to, no doubt about that.
Queried once about the three most important attributes for a batsman, Dravids first response was
balance. It is a quality that will now be tested more than ever at the crease and he knows it because
he always does. Rahul has been waiting waiting, watching, listening, learning, preparing long
enough. His team, his time.
Theres the bigger picture. Asked if hes getting a sense of the kind of captain hed like to be,
Dravid says it will take time. But, he adds without cue, I do have a sense of the kind of team Id like
to have. Which is?
Which is, obviously, tough, competitive a team that is looking to improve and have some fun
along the way. Not taking things too seriously, as at the end of the day it is sport and we must have a
lot of fun playing it and must play it hard.
As new captains mostly do, else there would scarcely be need to appoint them, Dravid has inherited
a team in flux. At the time of writing it is not known whether Ganguly will be on the plane to Pakistan
or not. The same for Zaheer Khan. VVS Laxman and Anil Kumble, who are out of the one-day squad.

Ashish Nehra is Ashish Nehra and on the mend. L Balaji is crocked and somewhat forgotten.
And it has hardly been as simple as that. For a period it appeared that the BCCIs master plan to
revive a flagging team was to appoint alternating captains while the board had some fun in court. The
new coach was not exactly looked upon as Santa Claus. Without question it has been the most
controversial year for Indian cricket since Mr MK was pouring his heart out to the CBI at the top of
the decade. In case it has been forgotten, till September it had been a fairly rotten year for Indias
results too.
Something needed to be done. Chappells and Dravids approach, of which they were able to
convince the selectors, was a shake-up. It has been the first and most crucial phase of team-building
and it has been difficult. Some terribly cold decisions have been taken, opinions on which are bound
to remain divided. It is possible that some may have caused Dravid unease, but it is clear that he stands
steadfast by a philosophy of team ethic, and that stagnation has hurt as much as defeat. He is after selfstarters, those who can look back and say that Im a better player now than I was four years ago. Or, I
can do this better. He does not like naming names but over and over in conversation he will return to
the phrase finding the right people.
The right people and I hate to say it not have the wrong people around them. You dont want
people whose own insecurities, whose own problems and whose own fears drag everyone else down.
That can be a big dampener in teams. I want to say that at this level I shouldnt need to motivate
anyone. If Im needing to motivate an international cricketer then theres something wrong actually.
The challenge is to not demotivate anyone.
If youre going to be spending time in the team always having to cajole and look after a few
people, youre doing a disservice to the rest because youre wasting and investing too much time and
energy in a few people whore taking away from the group. Players need to understand that they need
to give energy to the unit. There are times, of course, when youre not doing well and your forms
not good and youll need the support of other people. But most of the time youve got to give to the
team and make sacrifices to the team and give back to the team.
But are not bad boys, lonesome hobos, sluggish talents, going to be part of any side? What is his
attitude towards them?
I believe that you need different kinds of characters in the team. But there are certain nonnegotiable rules because youre playing a team sport. Youve got to understand that your behaviour,
the way you conduct yourself, affects other people and you have a responsibility to all of them. Those
are the broad rules we work under. But within those non-negotiable rules I think its important to
allow people to express themselves.
What, for example, did he say to the mightily gifted, passionate, but perma-dander-up Harbhajan
Singh? In this instance Harbhajan came with particular baggage: he had openly sided with Ganguly in
the Chappell row, and there had been suggestions, some, sadly, from within the team, that he had been
deliberately trying to undermine Dravid. All through, his form had remained nondescript.
Well, Harbhajans a champion performer. One of the great things about Harbhajan is that he really
cares about his bowling. Hes a very proud cricketer. And its not hard work with people like that. Ive
no problems working with people who want to be champions, as simple as that. I think he figured out
for himself that he needed to focus a bit more on the game and not worry about anything else, get
back to what he was doing when he was successful. Its credit to him, its not about what Ive told

him.
What is the basic approach, though? The man to whose tome he has written a foreword, Steve
Waugh, mentions slipping players memos, encouraging poems and other such cute stuff. Is Rahul
Dravid a speech-maker? A one-on-one man? He laughs. Better ask the guys.
Laughed off, too, are queries about perceptions of Chappells domineering style. I dont know
where that has come from. Ive not found him domineering at all. Hes been more than willing to
listen to my ideas and my thoughts, and I get a very good say. At the end of the day I think he believes
that a captain must get what he wants. In fact, in a lot of ways we do a lot of things in my way.
Rather, of the initial friction between Chappell and a section of the team he says that like anything,
sometimes it takes a bit of time for people to understand what the other person is trying to do and
achieve. I think the guys have responded very well. Ive really enjoyed it. In a lot of ways hes trying
to bring in some new thoughts, some new ideas. We have our opinions and sometimes we agree and
sometimes we might disagree. At the end of the day, hes done a really good job. Hes trying to coach
teams in a slightly different way. I think its a good way.
What way is that? I think he believes in giving different people different experiences so that they
can learn and grow from those experiences, whether it is from different kinds of drills in practice or
in match play, so that your mind has a variety of options to choose from. A big believer in the mental
side of things.
Listening to Dravid, watching him work, you sometimes worry that he is consumed by an intensity
that can burn, torn by the trances of torment of Melvilles Captain Ahab, who sleeps with clenched
hands; and wakes with his own bloody nails in his palms. In truth, experience, not least time spent
banished from the one-day team, and now a wholesome family life, has taught him that at some level
there is nothing that is too important.
When asked, for instance, why Mark Taylor is among his favourite captains, the immediate
response does not address Taylor s tactical sparkle. Rather it is because he had a lot of balance, I felt.
Equanimity. About Mark you felt that he always treated this as a game, nothing more and nothing
less.
Maybe it is this outlook, and Dravids obvious intelligence, that allows him to bring to his captaincy
a Taylor kind of adventure ploy upon ploy, trick upon trick, never passive. Basically, he says, I
believe youve got to keep the game moving.
Enough has been seen so far to say that his major calls have been characterised by, one, the
emphasis on team over individual, and two, the inclination to take the gamble so long as there is some
cricketing logic involved. He prefers not to discuss the Multan declaration with Tendulkar on 194, but
is happy to delve into other instances that provide insight into a variety of aspects of his decisionmaking.
One from the micro level. During the outstanding defence of 106 in Mumbai against the Australians
in 2004, he famously threw the ball to Murali Kartik ahead of Anil Kumble in the fifth over of the
fourth innings. Kartik responded with two wickets from his first six deliveries.
What happened there was that when I was batting in the second innings and Michael Clarke came
on to bowl, he immediately started getting a lot of spin, and he bowled with a round-arm flat action.
He was virtually impossible to play, bowling fast, straight balls that were spinning. There was no time
to react to that. When I was batting it crossed my mind that Murali Kartik would definitely be a great

option on the wicket to right-handers, because he can push the ball through faster. But the good thing
there was that Zaheer Khan took the wicket of Justin Langer in the first over that was a very critical
thing, Zaheer s wicket, people forget that. It exposed [the right-handers] Ricky Ponting and Damien
Martyn when it mattered, and I could get Kartik on.
In one-day cricket he has been an aggressive tactician, preferring at every turn the attacking option
and often the left-field one. As far back as October 2003, again versus Australia in Mumbai, he
opened the bowling with a spinner while standing in as captain. It did not quite come off but it did
provide a glimpse into his thinking. In Sri Lanka last July he showed that, particularly in defence of
medium totals, he was prepared to risk looking foolish by keeping catchers on and the field up. But,
he adds: It depends on the quality you have. Its all very well to say, Put only two guys out. For
example, I can easily bring the field in for Harbhajan Singh but not so easily for Virender Sehwag.
They are different bowlers, their level of consistency is different, their thinking is different.
Most revealing of his readiness to take risks have been the (largely successful) batting orders,
which may seem to have been generated by an iPod shuffle but were, he explains, prompted as much
by long-term strategy as plan for the day.
How do you sometimes get the best out of people? he asks. By challenging them. From personal
experience Ive seen that batting at different positions has made me think about my cricket differently.
I had to bat at No. 3 for a part of my career in the one-day game, batted at No. 5, kept wickets, batted at
No. 6, No. 4. The demands have been different. Its obviously opened up my game. Im hoping it will
help a lot of others as well.
Long-term-view, too, were the decisions to rest Tendulkar and himself in consecutive games
against Sri Lanka. Though the series was in the bag, the team had just found form, just managed to
curb the increasing cynicism of the watching public. More conservative minds would have chosen not
to tinker. More insecure souls would not have dared, at that stage, grant captaincy to another, even if
for only one game.
Its just that when youre on the road and playing a lot of cricket, theres a lot of physical pressure
and a lot of mental and emotional pressure. I dont think the same XI is going to be able to play the
whole season for you. People need just a little bit of a break to recharge their batteries. In fact, when
were playing a lot of one-day cricket I think there might even be a case for someone who doesnt
play to go back home and spend two days with his family. More can be gained by taking that time off
than another long net practice. These are things we need to be aware of.
Perhaps Dravids strongest batting-order call came not in one-dayers but in the Delhi Test against
Sri Lanka. With Virender Sehwag missing the game, Dravid promoted himself to open. He was on
antibiotics for a viral flu, had been unable to make it to practice the previous day, and the voice
escaped his body as if through a jute towel stuffed in the gullet. And he had failed in each of his seven
previous innings as Test opener. In another time the wicketkeeper or the newest member might have
been sent up.
Dravid rejects the suggestion that it was about making a statement or setting an example. It was a
tactical decision. Losing Veeru opened up the situation. I knew there would be a bit in the wicket in the
morning. I didnt want to expose the middle order, and since I do bat at No. 3 and play the new ball
quite often, I thought I would be the best equipped to handle it. In the second innings, with quick runs
the need of the hour, Irfan Pathan was sent in and the delightfully well-rounded stripling responded
with a decisive 93. Dravid did not displace the strokeful VVS Laxman from the No. 3 slot he had

occupied in the first innings.

In short, unnerving, but he seems to have it basically sussed. Creative but not absurd, ruthless but
fair, diplomatic but articulate, ambitious but grounded, demanding but not dictatorial, progressive in
every way, he has the makings of a complete captain for the age. He even looks happy in skins.
Inevitably a time will come when the team will lose and it is only then that Dravid will truly be
tested and only by his response to that can he truly be assessed. Between them, Dravid and Chappell
have taken or precipitated decisions of the type not usually associated with Indian cricket. Having
done so, theyve also turned up the heat on themselves. The challenge before the combine, even if
neither may say it, is to better the successes of the Ganguly-Wright era, for that is how they will
ultimately be gauged by the public.
But to talk of this as the Dravid era suggests a kind of discontinuity from the past. For him it has
been the same journey and it goes on. Six years ago, in a bid to overcome the staleness that had crept
into his game, he spent a summer at Kent, which he regards as a key phase in his own selfunderstanding. It was there he met John Wright, whom he subsequently recommended to the board,
and from there began a grandly exhilarating, grandly fluctuating period for Indian cricket, with his
co-debutant at the helm and in which Dravid himself was performer-in-chief. In many ways it is
Dravid who is the central bond between the eras. How does he look back on the last five years, the
thrilling rise, the sagging end? In what ways has the approach changed? Flexibility, total cricket,
theres been a lot going on. Whats coming?
John did a fantastic job for us for the time that he came in. You must never forget that. He and
Sourav had a good combination and they did some very good things for four years. John worked
really hard and made sure we worked really hard. A lot of us raised the bar during the period. He
created the right environment and evolved a sense of team in a lot of things that we did.
His voice rises a touch and the earnestness is striking. You know, teams go through ebbs and
flows, things like team spirit, things like performances, they have to be constantly worked on. Just
because you have it today doesnt mean you have it tomorrow. You have to constantly reinforce it.
Over a period of time, due to a lot of factors, maybe complacency to a certain extent, injuries to some
extent, we struggled a bit. Weve got to try and get that back. Were trying.
I think theres a lot of focus now on trying to get better at skill, thinking about the game a lot
more Its early days its going to take time. I dont want to start saying that its something huge.
Part of it has been necessitated by circumstances, part of it by need, part of it by what were thinking
and where we want to go
He weighs his words. Like I said, its going to take time We want a good team Were looking
to challenge people Were looking to take it forward. He leaves it at that. Theres not much more
to ask.
Rahul Bhattacharya is the author of the cricket tour book Pundits from Pakistan. He was contributing editor at Cricinfo
Magazine when this article was first published there in January 2006.

The great innings

His batting is not, for some, immediately appealing; it is like some paintings, it requires a second look, a considered
appreciation. Soon its beauty is revealed, its simple elegance, its clean, classical lines, its divorce from awkwardness, its
stylish symmetry. He plays to his own wondrous sheet music.
Rohit Brijnath, Twin treatises in courage, page 107

[ 14 ]

Hercules on second fiddle

SIDHARTH MONGA

VVS Laxmans epochal 281, among the greatest Test match performances of all time, stopped
Australias juggernaut in its tracks in Kolkata in 2001. It threw into the shade an innings that in
any other game would have been the main event: Rahul Dravids 180, the epitome of sweat and toil,
made in the teeth of extreme physical discomfort. For Dravid, it never came easy; this classic least
of all.
180 v Australia, second Test, Kolkata, 2001
ntil the afternoon of March 13, 2001, Rahul Dravid was a batsman too obsessed with technique to
U
score runs. On that day, despite an average of 52.23 in 42 Tests, he found himself in a corner. Against
the three best attacks of that time, Pakistan, Australia and South Africa, he averaged 27, 29 and 36
respectively. Take out Zimbabwe and he had not scored a fifty in over a year. He struggled to score
singles, finding fielders with well-timed shots. It was said he was thus building pressure on other
batsmen, coming to bat as he did at No. 3. Shane Warne seemed to have a hold over Dravid,
dismissing him a day earlier for the seventh time in seven and a half Tests. In the last two of those,
Dravid, shy of moving well forward, had been bowled.
On March 13, not for the last time in his career, Dravid swapped places with a batsman who often
took out with him a wand instead of a bat. It was a desperate move from a desperate side, and one rich
in cricketing logic from what was going to become a successful side. India had just come out of the
match-fixing scandal and were under a new captain and coach. If this was a bout, they were being
manhandled by a professional, richly talented, deliberate-to-the-last-detail, bullying Australian side.
The knockout punch was about to be delivered when India instinctively threw up VVS Laxman in
defence.
What followed was so blissful and magical, even the hard-nosed Australians were won over,
putting behind poor umpiring and falling over each other to congratulate the miracle-makers. If
Laxman caressed India out of trouble, Dravid chose the only way he knew: fighting through it, never
mind that he had to play the pick-up truck to Laxmans Rolls Royce, preferring to struggle out in the
public eye than trying to hit his way out of form. For one full session he hobbled through for his
runs, took tablets and saline drinks for cramps. He was denied a runner and at one point even drinks,
but hed be damned if he played one loose shot in Kolkatas humidity of over 90%.
If Laxman was writing poetry at the other end, Dravid was just rediscovering the alphabet at his. A
day ago he had been bowled by a Warne legbreak that pitched about four feet outside his crease, on
the line of leg; and yet he couldnt reach it, and was bowled. The feet were not leaving the crease at
all, and he was not reaching the pitch of the ball. India were bowled out in 58.1 overs, thus having
failed to reach 300 against Australia in ten straight innings. Laxman, though, counterattacked, and was
the last man out, for 59 off 83 balls. When Laxman came back, the coach, John Wright asked him to
not take off his pads, and to go in at No. 3 in the next innings.

Wrights reasoning was damning for Dravid. Watching Laxman make 59 while batting with the
tail, I remembered Ian Chappell arguing that your No. 3 batsman should be a strokeplayer, someone
who took the attack to the opposition, and put away the bad ball, Wright wrote in John Wrights
Indian Summers. Dravid was our regular first-drop, but he hadnt hit his straps; his partnership with
Tendulkar in Mumbai had been slow. We simply werent taking the initiative. Ian Chappell was one
of the commentators for the match, and he felt it was a mental thing with Dravid, that he needed to
forget technique and score runs. The switch was working, too: Laxman was nearing a century by the
time Dravid came out to bat, eight overs before stumps on March 13, and India had taken off all but
42 runs of the 274-run deficit.
Smaller men have sulked and lost interest at such times, weaker men have tried to show the coach
and captain they too can hit boundaries. Dravid swallowed it all and came out to fight the biggest fight
of his career. Off the first 52 balls he faced, either side of stumps on day three, he scored just nine
runs. He couldnt find the sweet part of the bat, he hit too hard, Warne looped the balls high, as if to a
kid, Michael Kasprowicz bowled 14 straight dots at him.
When the umpire erroneously ruled a leg-bye as a single off the 15 Kasprowicz delivery Dravid
faced, the bowler came up to him and asked, Which part of your bat did it hit? Australia must have
felt it was only a matter of time before Dravid succumbed, and they didnt want him to get easy runs,
any runs. At the other end, Laxman toyed with similar deliveries, having hit 20 fours in his 113.
Umpire SK Bansal would soon join the drive. When Jason Gillespie how well he bowled without
any reward that day got one to snarl at Dravid, the inside edge for four was ruled leg-byes. Dravid
would have taken any runs then.
th

In the next over Laxman mis-hit a pull off Glenn McGrath. Soon Dravid followed a short-of-length
delivery, coming close to edging it. Now McGrath started his famous mumble, all the way back to the
top of his mark, the crowd began to dance, Dravid gritted his teeth and went back to struggling. Back
foot in front of leg, front foot slightly open, the bat going up and down three times as the bowler ran
in, the sweat beginning to drip already. He was only 11 off 69, and this was only the first hour. Wright
wrote random notes on his laptop, Sourav Ganguly sat with a towel draped over his bare chest.
In the next over, Laxman inside-edged Gillespie for four in much the same manner as Dravid.
Laxman now took the most dangerous bowler on, off-driving, steering and cover-driving him for
three more fours in that over. In the next over Dravid went at a wide delivery, punching McGrath
slightly awkwardly through the vacant mid-off region, and it seemed he would now be away. The
innings, though, was devoid of any flow or pattern: soon he would be beaten by one that held its line
outside off. At the end of that over, the 90 , drinks arrived. The first hour had been negotiated.
th

In the first over after drinks, Dravid found timing, perhaps for the first time, when he cut McGrath,
but not placement. The next ball stayed low. He was equal to it. Then he began moving forward to
counter the variable bounce. McGrath went round the stumps, and this time Dravid convincingly
punched him through mid-off for four. In the next over he sparred at a kicker from Kasprowicz. At 26
off 92, he was still looking for some sustained rhythm but not giving up.
Then Dravid got a length ball on the pads, which he clipped wide of the fielder deep on the leg side.
First signs he was in. Leading up to lunch the scoring rate increased. The clip into the leg side, at
times from in front of off, remained the profitable shot. By lunch he was 50 off 127, but that came
with its fair share of trouble too from Ricky Ponting, who had been having a horror series with the
bat. With the ball, he swung away at gentle pace, bringing the odd one back in. Two of those

inswingers could have on another day had Dravid lbw. One was a touch-and-go not-out with
regard to the impact vis--vis off stump, and the other hit him marginally outside.
India added 122 in the session. Australias over rate stayed good, and the fields attacking, even if
India had begun to build a lead. At lunch they were 102 ahead. Forty minutes later Wright said to
Laxman and Dravid, See you after the next session. Laxman nonchalantly drove the first ball after
lunch for four. Dravid repeated the dose to near-nemesis Ponting in the next over. Just when it began
to look easy, Ponting got one to rear at Dravids gloves. Laxman called for a quick single. He
stopped. He resumed. He was short. He dived. Laxman. Dived to make the crease. They were not
going to get out today. Not even run out.
Now Dravid pulled Ponting to midwicket. Michael Slater who had been all over Dravid in the last
Test, abusing him because Dravid had dared question the legality of a catch gave chase, kept the ball
in, threw it back to Ponting, who conceded an overthrow. Dirty looks exchanged. Wheels coming off.
Dravid ran all four. India effectively 132 for 4. A bread-and-butter couple off the pads followed. The
dream of 17 straight wins was fast evaporating. Only one slip remained. Were they thinking of a draw
now, to protect the lead?
In the next over Dravid defended one, and it spun towards the stumps. He looked to chest it away,
decided against it. He looked to kick it away, but the ball was too close to the stumps he could have
been hit-wicket. He chose to let it bounce a second time. It bounced about six inches from the stumps:
he still couldnt risk kicking it away; he let it be. The off stump stood. Eden Gardens heaved as one.
The emblem on Dravids helmet had begun to come unstuck; it looked like it had come off a few
more inches during the effort.
Mark Waugh finally provided respite. Dravid took a wide half-volley and drove it wide of mid-on.
He was finally dictating. Another on-drive. A pull. The lead was 150 now, and Dravid on 76. And
again he was to be pulled back.
Gillespie bowled a massive offcutter that hit him flush on the box. He hobbled through for a legbye, and as soon as he reached the crease he pulled out the box and went down. When he got up, he
doubled over his bat. Andrew Leipus, the physio, came out, not for the last time. Minutes later Dravid
put the box back in, and Eden cheered. His shirt was now wet enough to start clinging onto him. How
long before cramps set in?
Gillespie kept troubling him with the variable bounce, and his extra pace, that final snap of the
shoulder. How beautiful his action, how harsh his luck. He put everything into it. He bowled cutters,
he held the ball across the seam, he even reversed it for a while. Dravid kept moving forward to try to
keep the low-bouncing balls out, but kept getting beaten once in a while. By drinks in the afternoon,
Dravid had reached 84, two fewer than his previous best against Australia, and Laxmans back began
acting up. He almost hadnt played this Test, because he had been listing, which means, in Wrights
words, his shoulders and hips werent in line. It is the bodys way to protect a damaged back. Now
the tilt was back, and Leipus gave him exercises. What had been happening during the session breaks
now had to happen out in the open.
Laxman was four short of a double then, and you realised Dravid had begun to shepherd him. In
that hour Laxman faced only 39 balls out of 90. In the last seven overs, Dravid had faced 31
deliveries. Dravid, who had fed off Laxmans momentum and learned from Laxmans momentum,
was now giving back to him. They had played together often for South Zone in age-group cricket and
in the Duleep Trophy. Now the firm was going global. Dravid knew he need not bother about tempo

as long as Laxman was there, Laxman knew Dravid wouldnt throw it away as long as he was
conscious.
For a second, soon after the drinks break, Dravid borrowed Laxmans audacity. Towards the end of
another spell where Gillespie kept doing things with the ball at 145kph, one stayed dangerously low.
Dravid not only kept it out, he worked it through midwicket to reach 89 off 186, his best against
Australia. Laxman soon got his double, driving a wide half-volley from Mark Waugh for four. The
two hugged and went back to work.
As Dravid neared his century, the realigned Laxman resumed domination of the strike. Dravids
progress further wasnt smooth. He spliced a hook off Kasprowicz, and then under-edged another off
Mark Waugh. We were entering dangerous territory: Dravid had been dismissed in the 90s four times
before this. Ganguly still had his upper body wrapped in a towel. He was not the only superstitious
one. During an over break, Warne, Adam Gilchrist and Justin Langer swapped their shades. Nothing
worked. Laxman went past 206 off Warnes bowling the highest score by an Indian against
Australia; the previous best had been by Ravi Shastri before Warne made him his first Test victim.
Dravid was now using his feet well to Warne, not quite driving inside-out from the rough outside leg
but kicking him away well.
Dravid was nearly run out on 97 when Matthew Hayden dived at cover but couldnt hit the stumps. A
tired Dravid had given up. Before the start of the next over, that showman Warne made Dravid wait.
He took his time setting the field. Called in forward short leg. Then moved a fielder in the deep a few
feet. Then called for a silly point. Then Gilchrist moved a man in the deep. Dravid waited. Three times
the bat went up and down in the stance. Dravid, who had been accused of not moving to the pitch of
the ball, now stepped down and drove him wide of mid-on. Six steps down the pitch, he leapt into the
air. Not too high, but high enough to suggest how much this meant. Then you saw it on his face.
Anger. He raised his bat to the dressing room, and then pointed it to a higher level, to the media box.
Tony Greig, just the man for the occasion, was on air. He used the words sticks it up. Thats the
joint-angriest Dravid has ever been in the public eye. The other was when he was asked in Pakistan if
a match that India had fought hard to win was fixed. This, though, was more personal. Deeper. The
constant criticism must have got to him. This over-my-dead-body hundred was perhaps the last
affirmation he needed to know he belonged. And how he belonged.
Dravids hundred included 13 fours, nine of them in front of square on the leg side. Fifty-eight of
the runs came there. Mostly clips, flicks, drives, and the odd pull. The bowling and conditions had
been conquered by now. India led by well over 200, a defendable target, with six wickets still in hand.
This Australian team, though, came with an aura. Nothing was considered beyond them. India needed
to bat through till stumps at least.
Seven minutes before tea, Jagmohan Dalmiya, the ICC under his chairmanship and the Cricket
Association of Bengal his fiefdom, announced an award of 2 lakh for Laxman, for the first double
by an Indian at the Eden Gardens. He made sure it was announced during the live coverage on TV.
Soon the big board at the ground would announce 1,000 for each of Laxmans runs until his 236 ,
then the highest Test score by an Indian, and 2,000 for each run after that. Laxmans beauty not only
survived amid the crassness, it blossomed.
th

At tea, the contest still alive, the game still anybodys, Australia let the Indians lead the teams off the
field. Dravid let Laxman stay a pace ahead. Shastri, a commentator then, couldnt wait for stumps to
shake Laxmans hand. Leipus waited inside to realign him. It would have been hard enough for a fit

and fresh man to stay focused, and Dravid was about to begin cramping up. See you after the
session, Wright said, and Dravid having swapped his full-sleeved shirt for a fresh half-sleeved one
went out and waited for Laxman to arrive.
Australia tried to put a brave face on, charging onto the field, throwing the ball around, looking
sprightly, waving to the camera, their one last effort to reclaim a winning position. Two years before,
on March 14, leading West Indies 1-0, they had seen Brian Lara score a crazy, match-winning doublecentury. Jimmy Adams was the Dravid to Laras Laxman then. Did Steve Waugh, a historically minded
captain, think of that game? Surely it was not going to happen again? Not after India had been asked
to follow on. Only twice had a team won from such a predicament.
Hayden Australia had already tried everybody except Langer, Gilchrist and Steve Waugh and
McGrath resumed proceedings after tea. Hayden bowling nagging swing at around 125-130kph, and
McGrath using the unevenness of the bounce. Dravid clipped Hayden off the pads and limped through
for one. Cramp? A muscle pull? McGrath tested him further. Dravid played out two successive
maidens from McGrath. Too tired to manoeuvre the ball or steal a quick run. Leipus made another
trip soon. With a tablet and a saline drink. It was cramps, then, which dont qualify you to get a runner.
Dravid could hardly lift his arms. The pill hit the helmet grille and fell. Leipus placed it inside his
mouth. He also undid and redid the pads, to relive some of the strain on the calves.
In the next over, the two of them hobbled through for a single, and Steve Waugh who had been
trying all day to sneak in a run-out fumbled. Chappell compared it to the deep end of a heavyweight
bout between sluggers who were too tired to even throw punches. No one was taking a dive, though.
Not just yet. Dravid had now stopped bothering about the singles. He on-drove Hayden for four to
take India past 500, and then cover-drove McGrath through a tight field. Laxman screamed from the
other end: Played, Jam. Hang in, Jam. Didnt matter if it was a four or a block or leave. Dravid
would nod. They knew they were to see Wright only after the end of the session.
At some point before the final drinks break of the day, Ganguly had put on a shirt. A sign India
were out of the woods? Venkatesh Prasad and Venkatapathy Raju, who earlier dared not move from
their seats, were now mimicking how Bansal raised his finger. Gillespie came back for another
brutally unlucky spell. He even tried running in with his arms spread like an eagle, in a bid to distract
the batsmen. Warne bowled bouncers. Laxman joked with Peter Willey, presumably and cheekily asking him if Dravid could get a runner. Let alone a runner, soon Willey would banish energy drinks
too. Try telling this to todays players, who enjoy unscheduled breaks at the slightest excuse, as the
powerless umpires watch.
Back then, India were only just entering the modern professional era. They didnt have laptops and
analysts; they didnt even have neckerchiefs. Some resourceful person in the back room sliced towels
into thin strips and put them in ice. During the drinks break, Hemang Badani and Sarandeep Singh tied
them on the batsmens necks. It was not difficult to draw boxing parallels. The bell rang again.
Laxman soon reached 250. That was 2,64,000 worth. A tenth of what they get from an
advertisement contract nowadays? A decade later, Ishant Sharma, playing for Kolkata Knight Riders,
made 1.5 lakh per ball bowled. Not all the money in the world could buy the joy and satisfaction of
exhaustion that Laxman and Dravid would have felt then.
Six overs later, they got new makeshift neckerchiefs. Dravid turned Mark Waugh around the corner
to reach 150. He was not angry now. It might have seemed he was too exhausted to show anger, but on
the evidence of the rest of his career, Dravids earlier show of emotion was an aberration. He was

moving smoothly now. Australia even tried Langer now. Without further incident, Dravid and Laxman
became the third Indian pair after Vinoo Mankad and Pankaj Roy, and Gundappa Viswanath and
Yashpal Sharma to bat through a days play.
Thats 540 legal deliveries, nine modes of dismissals possible with each, and none came to pass.
Laxman had added 166 runs, Dravid 148. From being minus-274 on March 13, the day Dravid was
still a man too obsessed with technique to score runs, a man with low averages against the best attacks
of the day, India were now 315 ahead. Australias dream had been interrupted. They had had bad
decisions against them when they batted. They were about to break through the doors of the Final
Frontier. Then this happened. So beautiful was this that Australia lined up to congratulate the two
batsmen.
Once again, Laxman and Dravid led the way off the field. They had just about enough energy to
shake hands before walking straight into the makeshift hospital that was the dressing room. One man
went on a lunch table, the other on the physios. Doctors were ready with drips. The two now lay next
to each other, in the knowledge they had shared something special, that, in Dravids words, would
define our careers from now on, irrespective of what we achieved or didnt achieve after that.
On the fifth day, Laxman added only six before cutting McGrath straight to deepish gully. A period
of uncertainty followed. India kept batting without any increase in the tempo, despite a lead of over
300. Every over purposelessly batted away diminished their chances of winning, which would be the
only perfect end to this turnaround. Turned out Wright and Ganguly had conferred and decided they
wanted to frustrate Australia, who didnt like being played out of a game.
It was the perfect chance for Dravid to get to a double-hundred. He simply wouldnt get the strike,
though. He scored 25 off the 34 balls he got on the fifth morning, and as he tried to steal a single
when Zaheer Khan pushed one to cover, he was sent back. Dravid had covered more than 22 yards in
running up and coming back, and he was caught short. He went back shaking his head.
Not all the way back to the pavilion, though. He wasnt an angry man anymore. He was to cherish
the moment. He raised his bat to all parts of the ground before walking off. He now knew he
belonged.
Sidharth Monga is an assistant editor at ESPNcricinfo

The bowlers who got Dravid out most often in ODIs were both fairly unlikely names: Sanath Jayasuriya and Abdul
Razzaq, who dismissed him six times each.

[ 15 ]

The monk of Headingley

SANJAY BANGAR

While Kolkata 2001 was the first glimpse of a new, aggressive India, it was at Headingley a year
later that the team showed real steel. Rahul Dravid was the chief forger, absorbing all the heat to
create one of Indias most memorable wins abroad.
148 v England, third Test, Leeds, 2002
atthew Hoggard delivered a fuller-length delivery on my leg stump. It had looked, at least to me,
M
like an innocuous ball going down leg side, and I reacted accordingly. But suddenly it slithered past
my hanging bat, like a fast legbreak on a turning pitch.
Rahul Dravid walked up to me and said with a smile, Boss, this is not Karnail Singh. Karnail
Singh is the home ground of my domestic team, Railways, and its pitch is slow, flat and low.
Headingley, Leeds, in the north of England, was cold, fast and unreliable.
The year 2002 was an interesting one for me and Indian cricket. The English summer had been
mixed going in to Headingley. We had won the NatWest ODI series final after coming back from the
dead. It was a wonderful achievement for Indian cricket; the chase of 325 was one of the top five in
ODI history at the time, and we achieved it after losing nearly all our specialist batsmen.
We lost the first Test at Lords. At Trent Bridge, Ajay Ratra, the first-choice wicketkeeper, was not
fit to take the field and 17-year-old Parthiv Patel made his debut. England dominated the first four
days, but India, led by a century from Rahul, fought valiantly on the final day to save the Test. I dont
think we could have drawn it if not for Parthivs daring efforts with the tail in the final 20 overs. That
fightback gave us fresh belief for the rest of the tour.
The day before the Leeds Test, John (Wright) told me I was to play. Of my five Tests till then, I had
done well in three. In the last, in the West Indies a few months ago, I had failed. I asked John where my
career stood. He plainly told me, I do not know. So I knew this was my make-or-break Test.
Sourav won the toss and elected to bat since we had two spinners in the side. On TV, Sunil Gavaskar
called it a brave decision. Nasser Hussain smiled happily for he had a good four-pronged fastbowling attack that could take advantage of the overcast conditions.
The much talked-about Headingley pitch was foreign to me, though I had read about it in Darren
Goughs autobiography, so I knew about its slope and what kind of adjustments a bowler would need
to make. Even Rahul, who came out in the seventh over after Veeru (Sehwag) edged Hoggard to slip,
was playing only his second match there. He had played there for Kent against Yorkshire in 2000, but
that match had finished inside three days.
It was the first time I was batting with Rahul in a Test. Already that year he had impressed me by
taking the initiative to get the team together. At the start of the West Indies tour he said every player
would be asked to talk about the team. I wrote a poem and read it out during our first meeting. That
move by Rahul, I felt, brought the team together and made newcomers like me feel more confident.

He also asked me out to dinner in the Caribbean. In England, after the second Test, I returned the
favour, and he was happy to join me with two other team-mates. By the time we batted at Headingley
we were comfortable with each other.
Neither of us spoke a lot on the field, and the only instruction Rahul gave me was to look out for
sharp singles and always be ready to run. I was a slow runner but Rahul never showed his
disappointment. We were going at just about two runs an over till lunch, yet he didnt ask me to
change my approach.
Not that it meant Headingley was quiet. The fans kept shouting Geddon with it. The close-in
fielders chirped constantly, telling us we were going nowhere with our two-per-over run rate. Mate,
youre not getting enough runs a couple of wickets and youll be the same again, they said.
Early in the innings I noticed a big difference in our techniques: Rahul was looking to get forward,
as close to the pitch of the ball as possible, but would play with soft hands, whereas I was hanging
back in my crease, trying to use the pace of the ball to create runs. That was probably why he took
more blows on his fingers, hands, elbows and body.
The first session was the most important: Englands bowlers were hostile, looking for one wicket,
just one. They were confident they could tear a part the rest of our batting order once they broke
through. Rahul not only stopped them from doing that, he frustrated, annoyed and exhausted them for
the better part of five sessions.
There were three things Rahul had to counter in the innings: swing, seam, and awkward and
variable bounce. He weathered them successfully for more than seven hours, revealing his strength of
character and his quality as a batsman.
Hoggard and Andy Caddick mostly moved the ball away, so once you got your eye in, you didnt
really falter against them. But Alex Tudor had natural inswing, and that added to the variable bounce
made him the most dangerous bowler to face, at least in the first session. He bowled a hostile spell
and troubled us the most. He kept bowling into our bodies. When a bowler does that, no matter how
good a batsman you are, you start to think about getting hit.
Rahul copped a few from Tudor. Once, before lunch, he was hit hard on his fingers, but he didnt
flinch. As a batsman you are always looking to score mental victories over your opponent. The next
ball hit him on the forearm. The message he conveyed to Tudor was: Im digging in and Im not
going to give my wicket away easily. It was old-fashioned Test cricket.
I have seen many Rahul Dravid innings. The striking thing, to me, was that he played more balls
outside off stump initially, as against when he was settled. It seemed like after a poor tour of Australia
in 1999-2000, he wanted to assert himself early in an innings. If he made 20 or 25, he could get into
his comfort zone and start leaving balls outside off stump alone. At Headingley, though, he was happy
to keep shouldering arms, as many times as possible. It was as if John had asked him to do a set of
exercises repeatedly.
Rahul understood that the bowler would beat him many times and that he needed to accept that. I call
him a monk in that respect. He does not have an ego and can easily concentrate on the next ball after
he has been beaten by one. Many other batsmen might have struggled in a similar situation. The key
was, Rahul knew exactly what he had to do to survive on this wicket and he adapted accordingly. It is a
given that Indian batsmen will score runs on spin-friendly pitches. They have also got runs on fast and
bouncy Australian wickets. But very few Indians have succeeded in seaming and swinging conditions.

The effect of his patience was so strong that though Englands fast bowlers bowled some good
spells, they were eventually frustrated. In fact, we later read that Duncan Fletcher, then Englands
coach, was so disappointed with his bowlers lines that he started drawing charts to explain to them
where exactly to pitch the ball. One of the mistakes they made was to keep pitching it mostly back of a
length instead of full.
By the time Sachin Tendulkar and Sourav started dominating, Rahul had crushed Englands will. He
was the one who went out in the vanguard and neutralised the dangers of the pitch, allowing the other
two to easily post big scores. It was the first time in six years that all three scored centuries in the
same Test.
After that our seamers and spinners combined to deny England any room in which to fight back. It
was one of Indias largest victories overseas.
In a way that match changed the general opinion about Indian cricketers. We took a lot of risks at
Headingley. It was the turning point of our overseas record. We had not beaten big teams outside
India. The tide was turning. And Rahul had a lot to do with that.
Sanjay Bangar, who played 12 Tests for India, and scored 68 at Headingley, spoke to ESPNcricinfo assistant editor Nagraj
Gollapudi

[ 16 ]

Twin treatises in courage

ROHIT BRIJNATH

When India went to Australia late in 2003, few predicted they would get away with more than
honourable defeats. After a rain-affected draw in Brisbane, the second Test belonged to Rahul
Dravid, who led India to their first win in Australia in over 20 years, with two innings of efficient
purity and defiance. Rahul batted like god, his captain, Sourav Ganguly, said.
233 and 72 v Australia, second Test, Adelaide, 2003
usk descended gently and soon a scoreboard that told an improbable tale would be obscured.
D
Seagulls loitered as sprinklers hiccupped. The team bus had gone home and the Adelaide Oval echoed
with silence. But inside the dressing room, amidst the detritus of empty Gatorade bottles and sandwich
wrappers, he was still there, tired smile on drawn face, cold beer in limp hand, the hero contemplating
his finest moment.
Above him, as he craned to look, high on the wall hung a whiteboard, on which the names of
travellers who had taken five wickets or scored a century were inscribed. His name had not been
written yet, the 233 beside it, but his eyes told you he could already read it. Maybe Rahul Dravid just
wanted to slowly inhale the last remaining scent of victory, take one last look at this foreign place
where he and his team had imprinted its greatness. His team had owned this stadium briefly, and he
was not ready to leave just yet.
It wasnt unusual for him, this lingering, it is part of why he plays. I do that quite often, he says. I
like the warmth of the dressing room. After youve done five days of battle it feels like home, to
share so many emotions with so many different people, its fantastic to stay and soak in it.
Those innings in Adelaide, the 233 and the 72 not out, were essays in concentration, studies in
craftsmanship, treatises in courage. They were the most compelling advertisement of the truth that he
is one of finest batsmen of his generation. They are also, not wholly but partially, an education in him
as player and man.
Last month, in Wisden Asia Cricket magazine, he wrote an article on books. He remembered his
days as a young player, curled up on the wooden bunk as the train rattled its way to another match,
reading To Kill a Mockingbird. In Adelaide, Racers, the story of the dramatic 1996 Formula One
season, rested on his table. But there is one book he identifies with powerfully, perhaps because the
tale has something of him in it. David Halberstams The Amateurs studies in detail the quest of
American rowers for Olympic selection, dissecting their pain, their rage, the obsession of their
journey. Down the phone from Hobart, Dravid explains: It shows you true passion and true drive. Its
what sport is about for people who play it. Its not about the accolades or the money, but about the
personal battles, the sacrifice. Its about the process, and I enjoy that.
His process, as in Adelaide, commences in the morning. The silent warrior awakes, then in his
room he visualises the portrait of an artist in boxer shorts. As his batting suggests, this man prefers
method to chance. He will see the bowler in his mind, envision his action, and then barefoot, with bat
in hand, take stance and meet the imaginary ball.

In the first innings, he is there in total for 594 minutes, searching for harmony between mind and
feet, discovering a way to stay in concentrations embrace. He does not care for statistics, he is not
distracted by his nation spellbound, for he says, You cant be thinking, What if I fail?
You cant concentrate for ten hours. You switch on and off, you push yourself, your mind
wanders, you bring it back, you steel yourself. Thats the real beauty, when you win the battle against
yourself, he explains.
This is the essence of Dravid, waging his silent, private war. He is occasionally bewildered that
after he is done, the pleasure of what he has accomplished is not that powerful; for him, more joy is
found while completing the task.
He is an inward-looking player, an analyser, constantly scrutinising his art, dismembering his
innings and emotions into pieces for study. Predictably, he is too intelligent to be at ease with this
hero business; he finds it discomforting, exaggerated. He says: I dont really feel like a hero, my
only qualification is that I come on television more than a nurse or a soldier or a teacher. Anyway, I
dont think sportsmen can really be considered heroes.
At the crease in Adelaide, his brain will register heat, applause, scoreboard, partner, but it is the
specific bowler of the moment that he is attuned to. That this is Jason Gillespie running in, hair askew,
awakens the warrior in him. The Australians always come hard at you, youre always in a contest,
and this makes it easier to concentrate. In fact, when change bowlers like [Simon] Katich come on,
you have to focus harder.
His second innings, India chasing 230, is more valuable, more arduous. The pressure is stifling and
his fine form of earlier days initially deserts him. I didnt feel in much control. I had to fight through
periods, refocus, reminding myself of what I wanted to achieve. My goal was to not get out, to make it
as difficult as I could.
He is both calm and desperate, driven by emotion yet aware it is dangerous. Ive been playing for
seven years and weve lost a lot of games, and I was just fed up, and during many periods on Tuesday
I kept telling myself I didnt want to go through that again.
His batting is evidence of a careful work ethic, of a player who shares a comfortable
companionship with discipline. After the Test, his captain, Sourav Ganguly, will say on television:
Hes the best role model you can have, because he works so hard, thinks so much. But this is also
genetics, this willfulness written into some invisible chromosome. He says his mother, an artist, is a
very determined woman; when she sets her mind to something she does it. Mother gets a doctorate in
art in her mid-50s, and son takes photographs at the ceremony; of these innings, mother would
approve.
In the first innings, he plays 446 balls, in the second, 170, so many just watched and left as if
unworthy of his bats attention. Monks are less circumspect than him, and indeed, when he plays it
appears he is delivering a sermon on batsmanship. Yet his carefully calibrated approach has a
powerful reason. As much as I get confidence from playing shots, I also sometimes gain confidence
from leaving balls, because it gives me an idea of where my off stump is.
His batting is not, for some, immediately appealing; it is like some paintings, it requires a second
look, a considered appreciation. Soon its beauty is revealed, its simple elegance, its clean, classical
lines, its divorce from awkwardness, its stylish symmetry. He plays to his own wondrous sheet music.
He is the owner of more shots than some believe; he is merely fastidious about what to play when, but

when he delivers, in Adelaide, cover drives of such precise sophistication, it is worth any wait.
Polished, fussy batsmen like him are often eclipsed by the quicker scorers, those with flair and
flourish. It scarcely bothers him. People like to come and watch great shots, and players playing
attractively. Thats natural. So would I.
But this unpretentious, engaging man is an owner of different virtues, just as precious. As he says:
I dont have some of the gifts of a Tendulkar or a Lara, but I have other things. Id like very much to
be respected as someone who is courageous and fights and does his best. I enjoy an innings [like the
233 and 72], for it brings out different facets of my character that are dear to me commitment and
discipline and courage. But he knows gifts themselves mean little; in themselves they are inadequate.
The challenge, he says, is making the best of the gifts you have got. I have learnt this from
Tendulkar, who has worked extremely hard to make best use of his gifts.
All his life, even when belittled, Dravid has stayed faithful to these gifts. Years ago, when
considered unfit for the one-day team, even told to sandpaper his offspin because it might help
selection a time of great humiliation for him his response was classic. Then, he told me, he could
have either moped and moaned and believed the world was against him, or he could have gone to the
nets and found a way to get better. He chose well.
But let us not believe he is all seriousness, some swotting student with no time to look at and smell
life, because that is not him. Mostly, in fact, if you meet him for dinner, there is a charm and
roundedness to him that is appealing.
Indeed, of all the moments in Adelaide, the one he enjoys more than most points to a man who
delights at crickets charming surprises. It came around tea on the third day. He had begun the day at
43, VVS Laxman on 55, yet late in the day when he looked at the scoreboard, he noticed with
amusement that he, impossibly, had outpaced his usually more fluent friend. You dont need to see the
grin on his face, because he is laughing down the phone when he talks of this: Yeah, jeez, not a bad
effort for a blocker, huh?
No, not bad at all.
Rohit Brijnath covered the 2003 Adelaide Test for the Melbourne Age, for whom he worked at the time and where this article
was first published. He is now a senior correspondent with the Straits Times in Singapore.

Dravid scored more Test runs and centuries at Eden Gardens than at any other ground. In nine Tests there he made
962 runs at an average of 68.71, with four hundreds.

[ 17 ]

Notes from an ugly epic

RAHUL BHATTACHARYA

Rahul Dravids Rawalpindi marathon was a landmark for being the longest Test innings in Indian
history, and more for securing Indias first-ever Test series victory in Pakistan. It was the ultimate
background innings, uncharacteristic in its lack of fluency but typical for its awesome commitment.
He was in excellent humour throughout. This is an edited excerpt from Pundits from Pakistan: on
tour with India 2003-04.
270 v Pakistan, third Test, Rawalpindi, 2004
world away Brian Lara was approaching a quadruple-century in a Test innings, and accordingly
A
some guests arrived late to Waqar Younis retirement dinner in Rawalpindi, some left early, others
whisked themselves away to the giant screen in the coffee shop.
Rahul Dravid watched the moment on the TV in the gymnasium area. With him was the Marathi
journalist and editor Sunandan Lele. Dravid marvelled at Laras technique, which allowed him the
option of a defensive stroke or an attacking one to every ball till the very last moment. Above all he
marvelled at Laras appetite. Lele had just interviewed Dravid. He had asked him about his dry run in
this Test series. Vees, Dravid had held up two fingers and replied, vees houn dya (Twenty, just let
me get past 20).
And at dinner on day one of the Test, he excused himself early from the table. He wanted to sleep
well, he told his companions, because he had to bat all day tomorrow.
Presuming an opening stand longer than one ball, the Maestro was a touch late to the crease the
previous evening, still attiring himself as he reached. But now, after a good nights rest, Dravid fell
clean out of his groove. The gooduns still make it count; and maestros, of course.
He was just not feeling it. Mohammad Sami had a close lbw shout against him on the fourth ball of
the morning. Soon he edged Shoaib Akhtar out of the reach of third slip. On 21, he was a goner,
surely, struck again by Sami on the pads. Not given.
This was not an easy morning for India, nor was it expected to be, for the grass still had not fully
browned and there was movement about. Parthiv Patel was briefly troubled by Shoaibs bouncers. Illadvisedly Shoaib bowled only bouncers, all for a macho smirk at watching a little guy leap about.
Parthiv fell soon after lunch, pushing Fazl-e-Akbar away from his body, which brought Sachin
Tendulkar to the crease. Shoaib was produced at the other end. First ball, back of a length, steaming
hot, climbing, shoulder height, off stump, wicked, evasion from Tendulkar, jubilation from the
keeper, appeal from Shoaib, no response from umpire, Tendulkar walks, 130 for 3.
In the snap of a finger the game had opened up. Pakistan needed to break the door down. Some
magic, some madness, some inimitable Pakistani inspiration; this was the moment, now was the time.
Nervous moments followed for India. VVS, the new man, made a wristy edge off Shoaib. Dravid

top-edged Fazl over the keeper.

Fazl and Sami strayed on to the pads of the Indian gents, an irredeemable error, and accordingly
were creamed for boundaries. Dravid began treating Samis bowling with increasing disrespect,
taking two more off-side boundaries, but on 71, with the total on 177, he allowed himself a flailing
up-and-under cut, the type he rarely indulges himself with. Yasir Hameed plonked it at point. It was, as
they say, a lollipop. Yasir said later, endearingly: Sometimes you get so engrossed in watching
batsmen like Rahul Dravid and Sachin Tendulkar that you lose focus on your job.
Dravid continued to buffet rough seas. On 77, there was a prolonged inquiry into a caught-behind
off Danish Kaneria. It was, even on the slowest replay, a not fully discernible flurry of bat, boot, earth
and ball. My own impression from the freeze frames was that it had gone from bat to boot to the
keeper, which should be out.
Misery was piled on misery: Dravid edged a cut wide of slip in Kanerias next over. From the other
end Shoaib bowled another bumper, which jarred Dravids finger, and the physio was summoned.
This was a wretched innings. But look at the score.
Tea was taken, and after it VVS opened his wings and soared away. There was nothing to do but
blush. On three occasions he took a pair of boundaries off Fazl. He flick-pulled him to square leg; he
punched him into the covers and touched him straight down. Pakistans fieldsmen may as well have
retired to their tents, for VVS was not about to hit to them. To his five boundaries in the 90 minutes
before tea, he added seven more in just 30 minutes after.
Dravid picked his own pace, hooking Fazl unconvincingly and straight-driving him utterly
convincingly. Pakistan were not stuck between a rock and a hard place, more like between an
advancing wall and a dancing swordsman. Whatever is the chemistry that these two share, can it
please be bottled up and stored for all time?
With a turn to leg off Kaneria he reached his 17 Test hundred. He now had a century in and against
every country barring Bangladesh, an anomaly he would rectify before the year was out. On only one
of these 17 occasions had India lost.
th

Inzamam claimed the new ball as soon it became available. Shoaib drew an edge from Dravid, it
flew, down, wide of second slip, and two slips were all there were. It was impossible to remember a
Dravid innings as coarse as this.
Out of nowhere, on a day he had spent peppering his own toe, Shoaib screeched an outswinging full
toss past a half-flick and into the middle stump halfway up, leaving VVS blinking at a blur. Sourav
Ganguly was greeted by a leg gully, a forward short leg, many slips, and crimson flames blowing out
of Shoaibs nose. On the first delivery to the Indian captain, Shoaib tumbled and fell in his followthrough and left the field.
Pakistans attack, lacklustre, luckless, sank into submission. Planes flew over Pindi, the sun fell
away, and Ganguly prospered, cutting away, every bowler, cutting till the final ball of the day, from
Kaneria, to bring up an effortless fifty.
Dravid too approached his inevitable best in this last hour. And asked by the press at the end of the
day if he was eyeing Laras 400, he broke into a grin: Four hundred? For me to score 400 the Test
match would have to go into a sixth day.
Sami burned his soul through a 13-over spell in the morning, but he could gain neither Umar Guls

deviation off the wicket nor Shoaibs bounce. And reverse swing continued to be elusive. Besides,
there was Dravid to contend with. He had spent most of the previous day smoothing rough edges, and
now his bat did not have any.
When Ganguly was run out, for 77, 45 minutes into the morning, it was history in its seventh
repetition as farce. Of Dravids seven run-outs in Tests, four had been in collaboration with his
captain, and out of Gangulys three, all had been in duet with his deputy. They were magnets
configured to always face each other the wrong way, jolting madly towards one another when they
needed to stay far away, repelling madly when they needed to move towards one another with alacrity.
In this instance, deputys role was to watch as captain comically ducked a throw and failed to ground
his bat.
Dravid consolidated diligently with Yuvraj, committed to bat once, bat big, as per plan. An hour
after lunch he reached 200, just as he had reached 100, ticking Kaneria to leg. Inzamam came over for
a handshake. Cynics suggested this was only because of the criticism hed faced for having not done
so when Sehwag reached 300 at Multan earlier. Id like to believe it was a spontaneous
acknowledgement from one modern master to another.
When Yuvraj fell lbw to Sami, the pair had added 98 runs for the fifth wicket. Dravid had put on 129
runs with Parthiv, 131 with Laxman, and another 131 with Ganguly. Two runs more with Yuvraj and
he would have become the second man in the history of the game to have shared four century stands
in an innings. The only person to have done so was the PCBs Special Guest for this Test, Hanif
Mohammad, during the mother of all epics, the 16-hour rearguard against West Indies in Barbados in
1957-58.
Only after tea, once they had flattened Pakistan out as a rolling pin does dough, did the Indians
begin taking risks. Dravid pulled Kaneria and was dropped by Imran Nazir at midwicket; he raced on,
with sweeps and magnificent inside-out drives, one of which soared for a six. With the total on 593,
and his own score on 270, of which 136 had come from 181 balls on this day, as compared to 134
from 314 before, he pulled out the reverse sweep from outside leg stump to Imran Farhats part-time
spin, testament both to the adventure he had added to his game and his refusal to play for a milestone
ahead of the team cause. He was bowled.
Thus it was at quarter to four on the day recognised by the Islamic calendar as the 24 in the month
of Safar that Indian crickets longest batting journey came to end.
th

Of all Dravids tours de force this was the most physical. Life carried on, Pakistani bowlers tried
and tired, batsmen came and went and hit beautiful strokes, but Dravid had the runs. Twelve hours and
20 minutes says plenty, but not everything: apart from the intervals, Dravid had spent all but one ball
of virtually three full days on the field. This was especially challenging because he is prone to losing
fluids much quicker than the next sportsman. Dravid always takes measures. In Perth a few months
ago he had visited a specialist, who ran a series of tests and prescribed him a fluid mix that would aid
his rehydration process. And he was, according to John Wright, in the top 10% when it comes to
physical training, which meant that in a squad of 16 he was number one or two.
Indias was not an over-performance. It was a natural progression. Five of the six highest scores in
their history had come in the last three years. Four of them had arrived in the last five months, each
outside India. Since Sehwag joined the ranks, in late 2001, the quintet of Sehwag, Dravid, Tendulkar,
Laxman and Ganguly had between them piled on 31 centuries and 44 fifties in 30 Tests. Their
combined average in this time was 55.85. Twenty of these were away Tests and not a dud among

them: tours to Australia, South Africa, England, New Zealand, West Indies and Pakistan and nowhere
else. For prolificacy, for seizing moments, for always having a man, or two, for every occasion, the
quintet could not match the buccaneering band of contemporary Australians, but what they had
achieved was to turn India, despite their limited bowling attack, into contenders in any part of the
world. Finally.
If Gangulys and Wrights appointments as captain and coach were significant steps in this regard,
Dravids ascension to batting leader was equally so. Indeed, it is not possible to dissociate the events.
Gangulys first Test as captain was against Bangladesh in November 2000 (Wright assumed his
position one match later), a time when Indian cricket had hit something close to rock bottom. Dravid
himself was in a slump in the period leading up to it. In the space of seven Tests his average had
plummeted from 55 to a mere 47, and he did not manage a single fifty in those 14 innings. In the 41
Tests and 41 months between then and now, Dravid averaged 70, eight points clear of Tendulkar in the
same phase. He strung together 16 fifties, three of which were nineties and another three eighties. He
constructed 11 centuries, five of them doubles, each bigger than the previous, more than any Indian
had ever done in an entire career, let alone in three and a half years. Not one series passed without
bearing the mark of the Maestro, and rare was the Test win, home or away, that remained untouched
by his work.
He was there in Kolkata with VVS, scripting among the most dramatic turnarounds the game has
known. He was there with Ganguly five months later in Kandy, making a long fourth-innings chase
against Murali and cohorts, the longest successful one there has been by a visiting team in that
country. He was there in Port Elizabeth three months later, saving a Test a day after Mike Denness had
infamously hauled the lot over the coals. He was there in Georgetown four months down the line,
averting a follow-on while popping painkillers to soothe a jaw that had swollen to one side as though
with a gulab jamun. He was there one Test later in Port-of-Spain, etching out more than a hundred
low-key runs over two innings in a famous victory. He was there, four months on, entrenched at Trent
Bridge for the final four sessions, saving still another Test. He was there at Headingley in the next
Test, taking blow after blow to the body on a bowler s pitch under glowering skies, sculpting one of
the great defensive innings in one of the great Indian wins. He was there, unforgettably, in Adelaide,
batting, batting, batting in a trance to victory. He had been Indias batsman of the 2000s as they had
unfolded so far, and his had been as significant an extended run as there had been by any batsman
anywhere since the second war.
Watching Dravid is an inspiration because at a most visible level Dravids lessons are the lessons of
life. After a point all achievement is appetite. In 1997-98 he scored fifties in six successive Test
innings. Five years later, he scored hundreds in four successive Test innings. How much can you keep
biting off? How much can you keep chewing?
Rahul Bhattacharya is a writer based in Delhi. He covered Indias 2003-04 tour of Pakistan for Wisden Asia Cricket
magazine, and later wrote a book about it: Pundits from Pakistan

Three of the four wickets Dravid took bowling in ODIs were of South Africans Shaun Pollock, Gary Kirsten and
Lance Klusener. The only other batsman he dismissed in ODIs was Saeed Anwar.

[ 18 ]

The Kingston grind

SIDDHARTHA VAIDYANATHAN

Rahul Dravids twin fifties at Sabina Park led India to their first series win in the Caribbean in 35
years. They were constructed on a spiteful pitch that saw 22 single-digit scores in a game that
finished in three days. Dravids technical mastery was unmatched. His defence was watertight and
he adapted his technique to the occasion.
81 and 68 v West Indies, fourth Test, Kingston, 2006

I t was the first morning of the final Test. The series was up for grabs. Sabina Park was a giant

construction site the stadium was being readied for the 2007 World Cup. Helmeted workers sat atop
scaffolds, rows of empty charcoal-coloured bucket seats alternated with heaps of rubble. Around
2000 filled the stadium. Some Indians in the George Headley Stand waved flags; some West Indians
tooted horns. A Jamaica flag fluttered above the pavilion. Jerome Taylor, the local boy, was running
red hot.
India were 3 for 2. Both openers were out. Rahul Dravid walked in at No. 4, where he had batted all
series in Sachin Tendulkar s absence. A local photographer, peering through his lens, asked about the
Britannia sticker on Dravids bat. He was told about a biscuit-making company in Bangalore,
Dravids hometown, where it was close to dinner time.

It took 19 overs for Dravids, and Indias, first four, a straight drive off Dwayne Bravo. The rest
was attrition. Corey Collymore, the most economical bowler all series, probed outside off. Pedro
Collins applied pressure with maidens. Taylor exploded: ratcheting the pace above 140kph, he forced
hesitant prods. None fazed Dravid.
Two and a half months earlier, in an unprecedented decision, the BCCI had named Dravid Test and
one-day captain until the 2007 World Cup. This decision, apparently a move towards stability,
provoked criticism. Dravids extended tenure in the ODI format was understandable the side was in
the middle of a record-breaking run but his Test results were questionable. Dravid had won a home
series against Sri Lanka and lost a series in Pakistan. Within five days of the landmark decision, he
would lose a Test to England, finishing a home series 1-1 and provoking further censure of his longterm appointment.
The Caribbean tour had begun on a high note: a Dravid hundred won the first ODI in Kingston
Indias 17 successful chase on the trot. But that was the acme: India lost the series 1-4 and the pressure
on Dravid intensified with every game.
th

India were expected to dominate the Tests. They came within one wicket of winning in Antigua,
were defied by rain in St Lucia, and by a confident West Indies batting line-up in St Kitts. Now in
Kingston their chances hung by a thread.
India resumed after lunch at 29 for 2. VVS Laxman fell in the first over. Yuvraj Singh and
Mohammad Kaif were floored by snorters: 78 for 5. Dravid was lucky to survive a menacing short

one from Taylor, the ball flying off his bats edge, grazing the fingertips of gully. He responded by
pulling Taylor for two successive fours, both in front of square. His wrists rolled, his body flowing
in a smooth arc in the follow-through.
Batting got easier midway through the day. Anil Kumble, adept at angling his bat, proved an able
ally. Dravid punished width and was quick on the drive, a long stride turning full-length deliveries
into half-volleys. Chris Gayle tried offspin; Dravid lifted him over mid-on. Shivnarine Chanderpaul
tried legspin; Dravid paddle-swept for four. Had the pitch flattened out?
Joseph Charles Morris, fondly called Charlie, was the head groundsman at Sabina Park. He began
working there in 1959. His trademark pitches had a glossy veneer on the surface. He made the fiery
one for the Test against India in 1976, when West Indies unleashed a pace battery so intimidating that
Bishan Bedi declared the first innings with six wickets down.
The pitch was re-laid in the early 90s and, according to Charlie, lost most of its bounce. He had
seen signs of a revival, though especially when Steve Harmison rolled West Indies over for 47 in
2004 but wished for more consistency. On the eve of the Test, Charlie guaranteed the surface would
help bounce. Brian Lara, the West Indies captain, said it would help spinners. Dravid called it a slow
wicket, where the ball would stop on the batsmen initially.
Kumble played on to a short ball from Bravo: 184 for 7. Five overs later Collymore lured Dravid
into feathering one outside off. The wicketkeeper pouched the edge. Dravid later compared his 81 to
the 76 he made on a windy first morning in Wellington in 2002.
India folded for 200. Only once had a team drawn a Test after making 200 or less in the first
innings in Kingston. No team had won. It was history or bust.
Dravid had been there before. Nine years before, on his first tour to the Caribbean, the two teams
had played out four draws. The series was decided on a manic morning in the third Test, when India
failed to chase 120 on a Barbados snakepit.
In 2002 they had squandered another series after batting collapses in Barbados and Jamaica a
harrowing defeat: the series would have finished 1-1 if Indias lower order had held on for half an
hour before torrential rain lashed the island for 11 days. Now, after three drawn Tests, Dravid was
back in Kingston. Another series was on the line.
Lara said West Indies needed to aim to bat for two days. They lasted a little over a session. From 72
for 3 they shrivelled to 103 all out. The team faced 33.3 overs 14 balls fewer than Dravid did in his
innings. India bowled with discipline Harbhajan Singh took five wickets in 4.3 overs but some of
the shot selection was baffling. The pitch was unpredictable; the batting more so.
India led by 97. Their openers walked in with rain in the air. By the fourth over they had both
walked back: 6 for 2.
Dravid took strike with the ground bathed in sunshine. There was a wide leg slip in place. Taylor
banged a short one in, then another, then angled one onto Dravids pads. The delicate edge flew
between the wicketkeeper and leg slip. In his next over Taylor again fired one onto Dravids legs. It
clipped the pads and produced a woody sound. Denesh Ramdin fumbled the catch. Taylor thought he
almost had a wicket. There was drama in the air.
From then on, Dravid reeked assurance. Bat met ball with sweet tocks. He juddered pull shots in
front of square. A regal swivel that raced to the cover fence took him past 9000 Test runs. His drives

were extensions of his defence: you saw the high elbow; the bat pointed at fourth slip in the stance,
and finished ramrod straight.
Dravid stood still before the bowler delivered, then he mostly went back and moved across to
defend. Sometimes and here lay his genius he simply got back and chose not to move across,
creating width for a cut shot. Here was a batsman at the peak of his prowess. All afternoon he was
beaten once.
Collymore cleaned up Laxman and Yuvraj. Collins got Kaif to play on. Seventy-six for 5. India led
by 173. MS Dhoni added 46 with Dravid, before missing an incutter that kept a shade low. With his
feet rooted to the crease, Dhoni stood no chance.
Two overs later Taylor sent a replica delivery down to Dravid. It caught a thick inside edge and
dribbled. Dravid shook his head, determined. The next ball kept low again, except this time it held its
line. Dravid moved forward, his bat came down straight. Taylor stood transfixed. It was his last over
of the day. The best bowler in the match knew he was defeated. There was no way past Britannia.
India ended the day 225 ahead. Dravid batted out another 36 deliveries the next morning before he
was bowled off a shooter. He walked back to heartfelt applause. Back in the dressing room, he cursed
himself for not getting the bat down in time.
West Indies were set 269. They went down swinging. A festive Sunday was lit up by cameos from
Ramnaresh Sarwan, Bravo and Ramdin. Kumble had the final say, his sixth wicket wrapping up the
game in the penultimate over. India had won a series in the Caribbean for the first time in 35 years.
Dravid was chaired around the ground. Groundsman Charlie shed copious tears.
This was Indias first significant away series win in two years. Dravid went on to lead India to a
series win in England. Despite memorable results in Tests (including Indias first Test win in South
Africa) his captaincy was defined by India being knocked out in the first round of the 2007 World
Cup.
For Dravid the batsman, Kingston 2006 was a high point. His next significant innings was a year
and a half later, on another challenging surface, in Perth, leading to another historic Test win.
Dravid returned to Jamaica in 2011. Faced with another unpredictable pitch, he responded with a
match-winning, and eventually series-winning, century. For those who missed his batting in 2006, he
obliged with an encore, showing that history does occasionally repeat itself.
Siddhartha Vaidyanathan is a journalist based in New York. He covered Indias 2006 tour of West Indies for ESPNcricinfo

Dravid was never dismissed for a first-ball duck in Tests. He was, though, run out for 0 without facing a ball once: in
the Lahore Test of 2004.

[ 19 ]

A part of his best self

SHARDA UGRA

Indias 2011 tour of England provided more occasion than others in recent years to drag out the
familiar clichs about lone bulwarks and defiant solos: Rahul Dravid scored 461 runs in the Tests,
nearly 200 more than any of his team-mates, at twice the average. The finest of his three hundreds
came at Trent Bridge.
117 v England, second Test, Nottingham, 2011

T he grey skies at the start of the Nottingham Test had defined the first day as what English cricket

folk call a bowling day. As the clouds parted on the Saturday and sunlight flowed over Trent
Bridge, naturally it was the advent of that other phenomenon: the batting day. For this Test match,
though, those descriptions were irrelevant. In terms of batsmanship, the first two days have both been,
quite simply, Dravid days.
The wicket at Trent Bridge is known for its propensity to aid swing. The theories behind that
phenomenon include the Dukes ball, the new stands built at the ground, the airflow around them, the
neighbouring river Trent, the sky, the clouds, the weather, everything and nothing. Wherever the
swing came from, Rahul Dravids response to it, and his second Test century of the tour, came from
skill, memory and cussedness.
In the toughest conditions of the series so far, Dravid has come through as the toughest batsman on
either side. In passages of play when the bowling has been unrelenting and during spells when the ball
has darted, jagged, leapt and thrown flying kisses at the bats edge, Dravid has been instinct and
calculation in perfect sync.
With this 34 century, he has now drawn level with Sunil Gavaskar and Brian Lara, to go with his
No. 2 spot on the list of all-time Test run scorers. If there ever was a poll conducted to identify the
most hardy and considerate international batsmen of this age, Dravid has a very good chance of
topping it. In this series already he has done most of what he is known for: opened, batted at No. 3,
kept wicket, fielded at slip and, he will say with his droll humour, also dropped a few. Asked, after
his century, about his ability to bowl, he laughed and said, If I bowl, my shoulder will come out of
my back.
th

On this tour of England, it is a shoulder his team has leaned heavily upon. Of all the India batsmen,
he has adjusted the quickest in England, looked the most composed, and scored the most heavily. India
still find themselves gasping because he has had very little company.
He was out in an outrageously flashy manner here, a wild, short-game cut off Tim Bresnan, as out
of place in his innings as pink hot pants would be at an awards presentation. Given that his partners
had been unpredictable in the last ten minutes, and four wickets had fallen for six runs, it was hard to
blame him for going for broke.
It is worth remembering that his first-innings century at Lords had been rendered paltry because of

a poor effort from the rest. So maybe if Dravid is seen attempting reverse hits or Dilscoops at The
Oval, well know how the Indian batting has gone for the rest of the series. After Harbhajan Singh
was out, Dravid said he wanted to go for the runs, the extra 20-25 runs that could add up at the end.
Essentially he wanted to borrow from Stuart Broad and Graeme Swanns ninth-wicket approach on
Friday.
Dravids second century of the tour had begun with a bruising hour of play on Friday evening. He
was hit on his wrist, jammed in the fingers, worked over. He kept batting through two more sessions,
sometimes hobbling, sometimes cramping but always pushing forward. He was hit on the wrist again
this morning, and after the initial spasm, his hand lost sensation for a few overs. What Dravid never
lost was the purpose of what he had to do: bat one ball at a time.
In his epic innings and hes one of the few who has produced regular epics as against memorable
stanzas Dravid can often bat like a clock that ticks reliably. Tap. Single. Back again. Forward.
Defend. Dot ball. Beaten. Dot ball. Forget. Off stump. Leave. Dot ball. Late. Nudge. Two. Soft hands.
Kill. Dot ball. Width. Cut. Four. Ball after ball, over after over.
He called Nottingham one of his better hundreds because of the hard-working, fighting aspects of
it that he enjoyed. He said the conditions in Headingley back in 2002, when India batted first on a
green track to put up a total that set up victory, were tougher, but the bowling in 2011 was far more
demanding and precise.
He emerged with VVS Laxman on a bright morning and within three overs they cracked four
consecutive boundaries. Two each, off rare lapses from James Anderson and Broad, that erased the
dread that had built up last evening among the small gathering of vociferous Indian fans at the
ground.
The partnership hummed along like it always has, at varying paces. The two men farmed the attack
cleverly, Dravid facing Broad and Laxman against Anderson, with few singles, several twos, and the
quick boundary at a juicy sighter.
Laxman melted the conditions driving, pulling and cutting savagely to score his second halfcentury of the series. At the other end, Dravid was in his own bubble of concentration, found often at
the non-striker s end shadow-practising the leave as much as he did the forward defence.
Broad later said Dravids wicket had been his favourite in a day when they fell in a clatter and had
included his stunning hat-trick. Dravids game is based on technical classicism and attached to it is the
awareness of how valuable a wicket his can be. Unlike items in the English retail market right now,
Dravids wicket in this series is not going to be offered at a discount.
In Nottingham there was measured driving, his runs earned by tucking balls away off the pads,
countering the swing by playing the ball late and easing it through to third man. Closer to his century,
the new ball nearing, Dravid saw the slower bowlers and the sun come on, and decided to show off
the rest of his repertoire of shots: a back-foot cover drive, a glide through slips. Swann, in particular,
was taken apart, going for 42 in 37 balls to Dravid.
If Dravids batting in this series were to be set to music, it could be to Elgar possibly: both pomp
and circumstance. This is his last tour of England, a country where he has always enjoyed playing his
cricket. He has scored five centuries here (average 73.18) and soaked in its best traditions. His grim,
beautiful fights in these two Tests for India have also carried with them gratitude for the grounds he is
playing on.

In Nottingham as he tried to push his team ahead in the contest, run by run, inch by inch, he was also
giving the crowd his farewell masterpiece. Dismissed in an uncharacteristic manner, he walked back
through stretching shadows and the golden light of a dipping sun. Having shaken off his annoyance at
his dismissal, he raised his bat to all sections of Trent Bridge as he neared the gate. Then he
disappeared up the steps into a pavilion that is 125 years old, with an honours board that will have his
name up a second time. When Rahul Dravid leaves Nottingham, he will leave a part of his best self
here.
ESPNcricinfo senior editor Sharda Ugra covered Indias 2011 tour of England. This piece was first published on the site on
July 30, 2011

Of the 11 triple-century stands by Indians in Tests, Dravid has been involved in four, which is the highest. Tendulkar
and Laxman have been involved in three each.

[ 20 ]

There are no easy catches in the slips

INTERVIEW BY NAGRAJ GOLLAPUDI
December 2010

How deeply were you interested in slip fielding to begin with?

I have never considered myself a natural slip fielder, but I worked hard on it, I practised it, and I have
taken my fair share of them.
Growing up, in my Under-15 days I used to be a wicketkeeper, and that carried on till I was 17.
Then I started focusing on my batting and moved on. I got into the Ranji team quite early, and
generally, as a youngster the first place you are put in is at bat-pad and short leg, so you had to work
on your close-in fielding straightaway.
GR Viswanath was the chairman of selectors in Karnataka back then and we did a lot of slip
catching early in the morning. I started to really enjoy slip catching because it was very competitive.
We had these competitive games with each other as Vishy sent catches our way. With a lot of younger
kids coming into the team, we would try to outdo each other.
Once I was in the Indian team, I was at silly point and short leg for about four years in the
beginning. I started enjoying it by working on the reflexes and catching. Once I became a bit senior
if I could call it that I moved to the slips. It was a natural progression.
How did you figure out which was the best spot for you in the slip cordon?
When John Wright came in [as coach] he was very keen that we get specialist fielding positions and
stick to one position. I identified first slip as a good one for myself.
Mark Waugh believed that slip catching comes naturally, that you cant be taught by coaches.
What do you think are the essentials of a good slip fielder?
Firstly, you should enjoy it. You should want to be there. It is a position where youve got to
concentrate the whole day, where you are always in the game.
Then youve got to take a lot of catches. There is no substitute to taking a lot of a catches as a
youngster if you want to do slip catching youve got to catch, catch, catch. And more than doing the
normal stuff, you have to vary your catching youve got to take some catches with the tennis ball,
youve got to take some closer, some further away.
One of the important things I have found with slip catching is, you need to have relaxed hands.
When an edge is coming towards you, the last thing you want to do is tighten up or freeze or snatch at
the ball.
What about the position where and how you stand? Is there an ideal one?
Bobby Simpson spent some time with us [the former Australia captain was a consultant to the Indian
team during the 1999 World Cup]. He was coach of a team that had what I consider probably the best
slip-fielding cordons ever. Mark Taylor and Mark Waugh were the best slippers I ever saw they
were incredible. He [Simpson] came in and altered the way I stood in the slips, in terms of
positioning. That made a big difference to me. He got me to take the weight on my instep rather than
standing flat-footed. What it does is, you can transfer weight and quickly move in any direction.

Each one of us has a unique body position, so you have to work out what is comfortable for you. I
know some who spread their feet a little more, some a little less, and they catch as well as anyone that
I know. In the end, youve just got to catch.
What about hand position? Is it always better to have your preferred hand taking the ball, with
the other one wrapped around as a support?
The fact that I never thought about it means I am not sure if I do all that. I just catch the ball. I do have
big hands and that does help in slip catching. I dont think you have time to think which hand should
come on top; it just comes naturally.
You mentioned practising with different kinds of ball. Can you tell us a little more about that?
It gives your hand a different feeling, of a different object. Like, catching one day with a tennis ball,
then another day with a slightly hard plasticine ball, then another day with a softer ball you can even
catch with a golf ball. It just makes it more interesting. If you continue taking catches in the regular
fashion, it could get boring and repetitive, but if you can just vary it with different balls, with different
angles, it could be more fun. It is all about fun.
Do you watch the bat, the batsman or the bowlers hand?
I just focus on the ball. As soon as the bowler runs in and as soon as he hits the delivery stride, I
switch on and start focusing on the ball in a relaxed fashion. As for reading the hand, if it is a spinner,
like Anil [Kumble] or Harbhajan [Singh], you are reading their hands, you are watching their hands
what they are bowling.
How different a challenge is it, standing to a spinner compared to a fast bowler?
Not a massive difference. With the fast bowlers the ball comes at you a lot quicker but you are further
away. With the spinners you dont have that time to react because of the short distance. Then again, it
doesnt come at the same pace.
How do you decide where to stand?
From a spinner s perspective, in India it was never easy for me to judge where to stand: how far
forward, how far back. Because on Indian wickets the ball does not carry as much as abroad. That is
true of slip fielding in general. I wouldnt say only for spinners, even for a fast bowler that holds true.
A lot of foreign players have pointed that out to me. In Australia and South Africa the bounce is quite
consistent, quite even, and you can stand way back. But in India, since there is not much carry, the
edges do not travel to you straight, so you get sort of tempted and dragged forward all the time. And
it is very difficult to know exactly how far forward you need to go. So it is just a judgement thing,
based on the wicket, the bounce, who is bowling, which spell they are bowling, the condition of the
ball So youve just got to keep varying. There is no perfect place to stand.
What sort of pressure are you under as a slip fielder?
As I said earlier, you must enjoy being a slip fielder. Everyone in the slips drops catches at times. You
are putting yourself in a position where you are seen, but you must enjoy the fact that you want to be
able to make a play. One of the great joys of being a slip fielder who takes a catch is that you are able
to contribute to the bowler s success. Yes, you are putting yourself in the firing line if you stuff it up,
but you must want to be in that position to make a difference, and recognise that sometimes you might
make mistakes. There are no easy catches in the slips. But as long as you have practised well and put
in enough time, you are fine.
What is the most challenging thing about standing in the slips in Test cricket?
Concentration. At times you will get nothing the whole day, but suddenly in the 110 or 112 over of
th

th

the match, a sharp chance comes along. Youve got to be ready and alert to be able to react. So it is
about the concentration, about doing it day in, day out, over after over, ball after ball.
One thing that could help is having a set routine, a pattern where you know exactly what you are
going to do each ball. That keeps you in that space to do that.
You spoke of switching on. What about switching off between deliveries?
It is very similar to batting. Slip catching does help your batting in terms of your routines. Between
balls I talk to my co-slip fielders. You talk sometimes about the game situation, but lots of other times
about various other topics, not cricket. That keeps you focused, keeps you relaxed. Like me and
[VVS] Laxman talk about kids, house construction, plumbers, electricians, running errands. You
cannot keep talking cricket the whole day you have to switch off. But as soon as the bowler starts
running in, you switch back on.
Could you talk about your two best catches?
In the 2001 Test series against Australia I caught Mark Waugh down the leg side. It was not a slip
catch strictly it was at backward short leg off Harbhajan in Chennai. It was a critical time in the
match, during the third innings. It went down the leg side and flew to my right. I reacted instinctively
and grabbed at it. The ball bounced off initially but I was able to hold on to it. It had come very
quickly. We had practised for such a catch because we had recognised Mark Waugh was someone who
played Harbhajan really well off his legs. And on a wicket that bounced a bit, we knew one or two
edges might come and we should be in a position to catch them. The fact that it was a tight game, that
Waugh was already 50-plus in that context it was a huge catch and one I really cherish. Australia
collapsed after that, so it was a good catch.
The second one is once again against Australia, in Adelaide in the 2004 series: Damien Martyn
against Sachin [Tendulkar], again the third innings. Sachin was spinning the ball a long way and
Martyn drove at one and I stuck my right hand out and caught it. It was a reflexive catch, more
instinctive. With such catches, a lot of the time, if you are able to stick your hand out, you have done
well. It happens so quickly sometimes they stick, sometimes they dont. At times the ball just grazes
your hand or pops out, but you have to put your hand in a position where you at least try.
Against fast bowlers, the one that is memorable is catching Ricky Ponting off Ishant Sharma, at
third slip in Perth [in 2008]. The ball was flying across me. There was a bit of extra bounce in the
wicket and Ponting played at it, but I moved quickly to my right and reacted quickly to hold the catch.
Thats what I was saying earlier one of the advantages of standing in grounds like Perth is that
you have distance, and because of the bounce you have a lot of time. I have always enjoyed standing
in the slips in places like Australia and South Africa because the bounce is true. You know you can
stand back. The ball carries. It comes quickly but at a nice height and at a comfortable pace.
Who are the best slip fielders you saw?
[Mohammad] Azharuddin and Laxman from India. Andrew Flintoff was superb for England. As for
Australia, Taylor, Mark Waugh, Shane Warne and Ricky Ponting. Mahela Jayawardene has lovely
hands and is good.
What happens when you drop a catch. Do you let it affect you?
At some level it does affect you. You are disappointed about letting the bowler down because he has
been putting in so much effort to create an opportunity after a lot of planning and thinking, and you
have not been able to grab on to the chance. But youve got to quickly move on, because the worst

thing you can do is to be lingering on it and not be in the right state of mind to grab another
opportunity that comes along. With experience you learn to move on, accept it and try and get the next
one.
Do you remember all your catches?
I cant remember every one off hand, but if you show me the scorecard I will remember.
Nagraj Gollapudi is an assistant editor at ESPNcricinfo, where this interview was first published on December 28, 2010, when
Dravid took his 200th catch in Test cricket

Two Indians have effected 200-plus ODI dismissals as fielder or wicketkeeper. Dravid is one, with 210. Only MS
Dhoni, with 252 dismissals, has more.

The man

He batted as a river runs, at an immemorial pace. You could tune in to an innings of his at any time and be unsure whether he had batted
six hours or six minutes. He carried himself with the same easy dignity in success or failure, in India or abroad.
Gideon Haigh, A sportsman of model
decorum, page 145

[ 21 ]

Dignity, grace, conscience

ROHIT BRIJNATH

t the core of the great athlete often resides a self-centred animal. He is lit up by the spotlight; the
A
rest of the world falls into his shadow. Once, a former cricketer, his nationality irrelevant, dined at
my house and was staggeringly oblivious to my other guests. He was prepared to be questioned; he
simply did not have any questions for them. As if they were the distant, faceless crowd in a stadium.
It is here, for me, that Rahul Dravid found his point of difference. Life intrigued him, yours
included. When he came to Singapore once, he charmed my friends (one gave him batting advice; he
smiled). What are you reading, hed ask. What do you think, hed query. Not about cricket, but tennis,
toughness, politics. Hed linger in bookshops, stroll into theatres, sit in wildlife parks. One year he
opted to go and learn from a visual skills specialist in South Africa; last summer, he drove to Chelsea
FC to wander through their Mind Room. From his wide interests emerged crickets most interesting
man.
He wore polished shoes but never an aura. In a world of gods, he preferred his humanness, an
unadorned man battling his own imperfections with a low-key dignity. He was forever conscious of
the families he represented (his own, the team, the fans, the game at large) and owned an authentic
decency we crave in athletes but rarely find.
My mother is not given at all to cricket watching, yet she sent me an email after his retirement press
conference that included the words poised, grace, dignity. If the old-fashioned among us have a
quaint notion of what the athlete should represent, then Dravid met it for us. Greatness can be worn
gently. A man can stay true for 16 years to the idea that desire and sportsmanship, ambition and
etiquette, are not virtues in conflict. We needed a reminder that even amidst the over-indulgence and
over-worship of modern sport, a man need not lose himself.
Dravid was precocious that way, always the grown-up cricketer. He had a conscience, and in a way
he became ours. There is for me an irony in the mourning for him in a time when Virat Kohli is
worshipped. Perhaps we realise what we are losing, perhaps the time of such men has passed. He was
teased recently that it was fortunate he was not 22, for he would be a misfit: Dravid with his hair
gelled, a tattoo of his wife on his forearm, retinue in tow, snarling, is an image both amusing and
obscene.
Dravid took cricket seriously but not always himself. Or you. During the 1999 World Cup,
watching me take a few casual swipes with his bat, he fell off his hotel bed laughing and offered this
advice: Please, dont ever write about technique. His batting could be classical, yet he never viewed
himself as the classical hero. Indeed, the evening after his retirement press conference, he suggested
with amusement that his immediate future included practising my new sweep shot with a broom.
I met him first in 1996, a slim young man, shirt tucked in, hair parted; and his method on the field
would be as fastidious. He saw the nylon cages of the practice nets as his university and practised like
a man pursuing a degree he might never earn. There, and on the field, it was the discovery of himself,

this uniquely private moment, that he most relished. For him and youd groan when he repeated his
favourite word it was about the process.
There were many batsmen in Rahul Dravid. The worst one once found him the most applause. In
some forgotten one-dayer, he smashed a quick fifty (these very words must make him shiver), and he
joked that he received more handshakes for it than for anything before. Of course, he could be a
picture of balanced harmony, his shots all refined architecture, and this was becoming. But the cussed
Dravid, a man of team cause not crowd, was my favourite, playing to his own scholarly sheet music.
Laxman offered me art, Sehwag liberation, Tendulkar consistent genius, but Dravid taught us that
the ability to reassure is a gift. For such a neat man, he loved an ugly scrap. Runs might emerge in
unsightly dribbles sometimes it was as if to be uninhibited was an act of immodesty for him but
hed keep going. A leave, a block, a block, a leave, and this should have been boring and well, yes,
sometimes it was except, by the end hed built a lead, or rescued a situation, or offered India a
winning chance, and youd look at this man, shirt bound by sweat, ferocious in his concentration, and
just think, bloody hell. Struggle, in all its forms, was his hymn.
He wanted to win, and if he took defeat manfully he also did so painfully. On the night after India
exited the 2007 World Cup under his captaincy, on the phone he sounded as if he was dying.
I liked him for this and for his willingness to discuss his own and sufficient imperfections. Because
he wouldnt flinch from honesty and you could challenge him on his thinking as captain or get him to
laugh at his own unhurriedness. Because he understood talent is only lent to you for a while and that
only ceaseless industry can allow for its consistent expression. Because he has a strong sense of
himself, for even as kind bloggers would call him unsung, hed say, no, enough has been sung
about me.
He was more than just a cricketer and it was evident in our meeting in October 2011. He had been
invited to a discussion on the sporting mind, at the Bangalore launch of Olympic shooting gold
medallist Abhinav Bindras autobiography.
No speech, right? he insisted, for that would mean a months dutiful hard labour for him. No, I
promised. Only a discussion.
Except, on launch day, in the evening, he took me aside. Id like to make a short speech, is that
okay?
And so he did, a charming, generous introduction about Bindra and his virtues and the challenge of
the Olympics. He is nearly ten years older than the shooter and far more celebrated, but this was not
his moment, he wanted Bindra to have the sun, and being in the shadows held no fear for him anyway.
It was not Dravid at his best, it was simply just Dravid being himself.
Rohit Brijnath is a senior correspondent at the Straits Times in Singapore and the co-author of the autobiography of
Abhinav Bindra. This piece was first published in Mint Lounge on March 10, 2012

[ 22 ]

A sportsman of model decorum

GIDEON HAIGH

ahul Dravid is a thinking cricketer. But one person I learned that he does not spend a lot of time
R
thinking about is Rahul Dravid.
It was shortly after the Boxing Day Test, and we were having dinner with a mutual friend near my
home, at a spaghetti joint in Lygon Street, Carlton. As happens when youre in distinguished sporting
company, the subject of conversation turned to setting down some thoughts about that career when it
ended as Dravid announced yesterday it was.
Test crickets second-tallest scorer, and the man who faced more Test deliveries than any other,
would seem to have a tale to tell. Dravid did not agree. What, after all, had he done? He had had a
comfortable upbringing, a good education, a loving marriage and well, yes, hed made more than
24,000 international runs with 48 hundreds, but what of it?
Dravid had recently read Andre Agassis autobiography, Open. Now that was a story. Drugs, girls,
money, triumph, disaster. By comparison, Dravid said seriously, he had hardly lived at all.
While it seems almost churlish to dispute such a commonsensical self-estimation, on this occasion
lets quietly beg to differ. For most of his 15 years at the top, Dravid was the most immaculate
cricketer in the game, a batsman of preternatural serenity and a sportsman of model decorum.
That wonderful Indian cricket writer Sujit Mukherjee once said of Dravids great antecedent Vijay
Hazare that his innings had no beginning and no end, because whether his score was 2 or 20 or
200, he [Hazare] was assessing the bowling with the same exacting concern that characterised his
every moment at the crease.
The same was true of Dravid. He batted as a river runs, at an immemorial pace. You could tune into
an innings of his at any time and be unsure whether he had batted six hours or six minutes. He carried
himself with the same easy dignity in success or failure, in India or abroad: unlike the other members
of his countrys prestigious batting elite of Tendulkar, Sehwag, Laxman and Ganguly, he boasted a
higher average away than home.
Dravids decision to retire will not come as a great surprise to those who watched him struggle
through the Australian summer. You arrive at a point in contemplation of any great batsman dealing
with poor form where rational explanation no longer suffices. Some little advantage has been lost,
some indefinable aura has faded.
Bowlers sense it: they attack where they used to be content to keep quiet. Fielders sense it: they
crouch in eager expectation of catches, and relax in confidence of accepting them. Such was the case
with Dravid in 2011-12, and he is too perceptive not to have sensed it, despite his valiant struggles. He
was, as ever, a model guest, his Bradman Oration being quite possibly the seasons outstanding Indian
performance. It is also characteristic that Dravid waited until the Australian summer was completely
done with before making any announcement; it is in line with his view that individuals are at the

games service, not vice versa.

Not every cricketer s cricket faithfully reflects his personality, but Dravids would seem to. In
company, he thinks before speaking, gives his interlocutors undivided attention, is unhurried and
unflappable.
That evening, dining al fresco, we were perfectly at the mercy of passing rubberneckers Every two
minutes, it seemed, someone would ask Dravid for an autograph, want him to pose for a photo, or
simply stop to gawk. Even the chef came out to shake his hand.
Dravid gave every petitioner perfect partial attention, not once growing flustered, not once losing
the thread of a conversation dealing with them rather like balls wide of off stump, giving them their
due but no more. There was, I realised after a while, a well-honed technique to it. Dravid acquiesced
to each request politely but straightforwardly, volunteering nothing in addition. People got the
message; it was impressive.
Various subjects were discussed that evening, which it seems impolite to divulge, and may even be
unenlightening to, because Dravid is so reticent about his career and so respectful of opponents.
About one opponent, though, he was forthcoming, and that was Ricky Ponting. He recalled being
accosted by Ponting, whom he hardly knew and had barely conversed with, during Australias tour of
India in 2010. I want to talk to you, Ponting insisted.
Dravid wondered what he had done wrong; on the contrary, Ponting wanted to tell him what he was
doing right. Dravid was having a poor series; Ponting urged him to hang in there. I know youre not
making runs, and I know theres probably a bit of pressure on you at the moment, Ponting told
Dravid. But let me tell you: every time you come in, I tell the guys that you look like youre going to
get runs today. Youve been getting out, but I reckon there are some big scores around the corner for
you.
Dravid was moved by the grace of Pontings gesture as indeed were we, his companions that
night, to hear of it. He went and proved Ponting right, too, enjoying in 2011 the second-most prolific
calendar year of his Test career.
Just over a week after our dinner, Ponting dived headlong for his crease at the SCG, just beating a
throw and achieving his first Test century in nearly two years. It was noticeable that while most of the
Indian fielders assumed excruciated poses, hands on heads, looking martyred, Dravid moved in from
mid-off clapping appreciatively, and perhaps also gratefully.
You would think that having a cricketer play at international level for more than 15 years might
conduce to a little succession planning; this being Indian cricket, you would think wrongly. Nobody
stands out in this Indian line-up as an inheritor of Dravids mantle. His retirement will leave the same
breach in his team as it would have done a decade ago.
All the same, there is perhaps no modern cricketer better equipped intellectually and
temperamentally to make a contribution to the games governance and direction. Dravids greatest
impact on cricket might lie ahead of him. And that would be a story worth telling.
Gideon Haigh is an author and cricket historian, whose writing has been featured, among other places, on ESPNcricinfo, in
the Guardian, and the Australian (where this piece was first published)

[ 23 ]

The reason I got married

JARROD KIMBER

ve always hoped there is an alternate universe where Rahul Dravid is the man, the best batsman in
Ithe world and the guy that everyone wishes they could be. In that world everything he does or says is
gospel. When he bats, the whole world, every single country, stops and sighs. His forward defence is
the sole reason for world peace. Its as if before him there was no reason to live. Laws are rewritten
for him, ice-cream is named after him, and when he finally retires from cricket he takes over the
whole world as a unanimously elected benevolent leader.
Thats the world I wish Dravid lived in, because I think he deserves it and because of the effect he
has had on my life. I cant write about him from a distanced and analytical perspective. He once shook
my hand and its because of him Im now married.
Even before he touched me and changed my life, Dravid was always there. In the late 90s Id
become obsessed with him the way you did in those days, via Cricinfo and newspaper scorecards.
When India were touring Australia in 1999-2000 there was much hype over Sachin Tendulkar, so I
went out of my way to make sure that every cricket conversation I had about Indian cricket preceding
that summer had Dravids name in it. I wouldnt let him be forgotten.
Dravid averaged 15.50 that series.
Four years later he came back to Australia as that guy who had stood at the other end while VVS
Laxman defeated Australia. Australians still didnt really rate Dravid, if they thought of him at all.
Before the 2003-04 series India were playing Victoria at the MCG in a warm-up. I convinced my
girlfriend to spend the day watching some Indian legends and sit in the sun. It was us and a bunch of
Indian students. No one else was stupid enough to watch the third day of a tour match that had fizzled
out well before. The crowd were there to see Sachin, and so was I, but I also wanted to see Dravid.
As the fans slowly left, knowing that the chances of Sachin batting were quite low, my girlfriend
begged, abused and did everything short of dragging me out of the ground. Aakash Chopra and
Sadagoppan Ramesh batting quite slowly didnt please her. But I was resolute. I wanted to see Dravid
bat.
This didnt please my girlfriend even a little bit. But finally I was justified as he strode to the crease.
I told her that she could say she saw Rahul Dravid bat in front of a crowd of 16 people.
Dravid was watchful as he faced Victorias back-up wicketkeeper for five balls before the match
was called a draw. My girlfriend and I broke up shortly afterwards. It probably wasnt because of that
day, but you never know.
Recently I read a piece in an Indian newspaper that described Dravid as more English than most
English people. But I remember when he was pretty Australian. It was in an IPL match where Dravid
had edged to slip and Tendulkar had claimed the catch. You expected Dravid to just walk off.
Tendulkar and Dravid probably know what the other eats for breakfast and what Adam Sandler film is
the other s favourite, but here was Dravid, doubting what many people count as the word of god in

India. Not walking. The Australian way of cricket from crickets ultimate gentleman. It was brilliant. I
am sure many took offence. But for me it showed that even in an IPL match that he might not take
seriously, he still wanted to win more than anything.
Then there was the time I was making a film about Test cricket and luckily, due to our producer s
insistence and good timing, Dravid agreed to appear. I was going to be interviewing Rahul Dravid,
the man whose forward defence is tattooed into the memory of every Test cricket lover.
That Monday (which was due to be day five of the 2011-12 series against Australia) he shook my
hand twice.
He turned up and was polite, distinguished and reserved. Exactly what youd expect of him. It was
gentle, and you could barely feel the hand whose silky soft touch guides the ball behind point. Either
he was just a man who shook as softly as he catches in the slips or he was put off by our shabby
demeanour and questionable aroma. Once on camera, he answered questions the way he bats
thoughtfully, without rashness.
Sometimes he replied with a late verbal defensive shot, and other times he answered with an
elegantly punched oral drive. But when we spoke, he didnt treat us like the disgusting men we so
clearly were. He has this way about him that makes you feel like hes on your side.
The second handshake came after the interview. It was completely different from the first this was
the handshake of a man who clearly liked the questions hed answered and was happy we were
making the film. It was firm, more like he slapped our hands and then held on, giving a firm enough
shake. And he didnt just do it to me, he went through our whole crew with the same sort of
enthusiastic handshake that makes you feel better about yourself and life in general. Im not sure any
handshake has ever made me feel better.
In our own shambolic way, we appeared to have won over one of the keepers of Test crickets
flame. With one longer-than-he-agreed-to interview and boisterous handshake, Dravid had reinforced
to us that we knew what were doing and that we could, in fact, make a film about something as
monstrous as Test crickets future and present. Sure, we could run out of money, overdose on chips,
or even be freakishly killed by some rabid T20 fundamentalists aggressive six while we walked,
Reservoir Dogs-style, through a park. But Dravid shook our hands like we were doing the right thing.
So we have something on our side.
Touching me was something, but Dravid didnt stop there. Rahul Dravid is the reason my wife and I
got married.
Before meeting me, my wife was a cricket-obsessed nerd, and one day when she was trawling the
puke-infested gutters of the interweb, she found her way to my cricket site, cricketwithballs. The piece
she read was after a drunken day at the MCG, where I wrote about a torturous innings when Rahul
Dravid made three ones off a trillion deliveries, while being dropped 48 times.
Dravid had batted like a man who had just been gelded. It was ugly to watch, and the fact that a
batsman like that could be given a Bronx cheer for finally getting off the mark was horrible.
If Dravid was my dog, Id have taken him out to the country, and taken a shovel as well.
I was pissed off he was opening, I was pissed off he was doing it badly, and mostly I was pissed off
that I had to see him like this. To see him like this just left me cold.
But it wasnt the first time Dravid had dragged his carcass around the crease like this. These were

the dark days for Dravid, when he was more than a corpse with pads on, he was a fully kitted-up
cadaver. Runs had become sparse and painful for Dravid. On one other occasion when Dravid had
struggled in the UK, my future wife had been there, and lived the same sort of horror I had.
Seeing my words about Dravid meant she wrote a comment, and we bonded over seeing Dravid at
his worst and wishing we hadnt. Later on wed get married and shed slip a ring on my left hand,
which is very similar to my right hand, which, years later, shook Dravids right hand.
Our wedding was at The Oval, the place of Dravids last overseas Test century. At the reception the
tables were named after cricket grounds. One was the MCG, and we used a photo of Dravid facing a
throw-down there. The picture was taken only a couple of days before my wife wrote that comment.
Rahul Dravid is not my favourite cricketer. Hes not the cricketer I get the most enjoyment from. I
know other cricketers far better personally. It might even seem to some that I can only remember the
bad days of Dravids career. And I suppose I do. But I dont need to be the one writing about how
great a player he was, Im the one who writes about how this stoic Test champion changed my life by
his very existence. And for that, and his forward defence, I say, thank you, Rahul.
Jarrod Kimber is the author of the cricketwithballs blog. On ESPNcricinfo, he writes the Cricket Sadist Hour blog and is one
of the Two Chucks on the video show of the same name

[ 24 ]

The money moment

SAMIR CHOPRA

Ithen n January 2011 I travelled to Bangalore to meet Rahul Dravid and interview him for the book I was
writing. I intended to write on the changing face of modern cricket, on its response to the
introduction of the franchise into a nation-based game, on the challenges Test cricket faced, and on
the effects of media and technology on the game. When I thought of which Indian cricketers I would
most like to talk to, Dravids name suggested itself as an obvious choice.
Shortly after I received word that I should go ahead and contact Rahul, I called and spoke briefly
with him on the phone. He was unfailingly courteous and helpful, providing detailed directions to his
house, even solicitously inquiring whether I knew my way about Bangalore (I didnt, but assured him
that I would be just fine).
I arrived at his house on time, was shown in, and soon our conversation started. Dravid was dressed
casually and conducted himself with a polite, relaxed informality that put me instantly at ease, and
prompted me to ask all the questions I wanted to. Mrs Dravid joined us for a few minutes, brought us
tea, asked me a few questions about my background, and then left to take care of their boys.
As I talked to Dravid, a slight sense of unreality pervaded the proceedings. This man simply did not
have the airs of a sporting superstar, someone who was rich and famous and hobnobbed with other
cricketing superstars (though he did sometimes casually refer to them by first name). I could have
been talking to someone who was a keen fan of cricket rather than a Test great and a former India
captain. At times I had to keep reminding myself that this was Rahul Dravid. Of course, the quality,
sharpness, and sometimes bluntness of his observations on cricket, the level of cricketing knowledge
on display, and the insights that only someone on the inside of the game could have, reminded me that
I was talking to a person located at a very particular focal point of international cricket.
And then, it happened. The money moment, so to speak.
As we talked about the transition from first-class cricket to Test cricket, from Test cricket to oneday games and T20, Dravid said, My attitude towards batting was simple: the bowler had to earn my
wicket. I told myself that I had to bat at least 30 overs in a Test. If I didnt do that, I had failed. I would
do it one way or the other.
As he said this, suddenly his expression changed. The smiling, casual, relaxed demeanour that he
had assumed till that point in the conversation was gone. His face hardened, the lines on his visage
tautened. I stared at him, a lump now present in my throat, as I felt a slight chill run up my spine.
At that moment I realised I was in the presence of 10,000 Test runs, of umpteen thousands of
deliveries faced, resisted and scored off. I was in the presence of a man who had squared up to,
among others, Ambrose, Bishop, McGrath, Walsh, Akram, Steyn, Donald, Waqar bowlers who,
quite frankly, would induce in me trouser-soiling, spit-drying fear. At that moment the friendly mask
slipped, just for a second, and I saw the steel and the grit that had made so many of Indias greatest
Test wins possible.

And then we were back to being chatty about modern cricket, the big paychecks in the IPL, and the
new aspirations of young Indian cricketers.
Our conversation lasted some four hours. At the end of it Dravid drove me to the entrance of the
residential estate where his house was located, so that I could hail a cab. He wished me luck with my
writing and was then gone.
While I remain grateful that he took the time to speak so frankly and voluminously to an utter
stranger, I remain even more appreciative that he let me see, just for a brief moment, right into the
heart of a true champion. It is the closest I have ever come to knowing what goes into the making of a
great cricketer.
Samir Chopra lives in Brooklyn and teaches Philosophy at the City University of New York. He writes the blog The Pitch (on
ESPNcricinfo), where this piece was first published on March 9, 2012, and runs a couple of others Eye on Cricket and
samirchopra.com

[ 25 ]

Start as you mean to go on

FAZAL KHALEEL

first met Rahul at St Anthonys Boys Primary School in Bangalore but only got to know him better
Iwhen we moved to St Josephs High School in class four.
Even at that age he was serious a little different from the others. I see the same qualities in his
older son, Samit, who has the same ability to switch on and off easily. These qualities helped Rahul
through his cricketing life, to get out of difficult situations and to handle easy ones well.
He paid attention to detail, especially the basics. If his form was not good he would go back to
shadow-practice to the hanging ball. When correcting our mistakes, our coach, Keki Tarapore,
would tell us that if the bat did not come down straight, the ball would travel at an angle. Rahul never
forgot the instruction.
Interestingly, he never made any changes to his basic cricket or in his approach to the game. Right
from his school cricket days, he has played the same way. Playing in the V came naturally to him and
he never altered it.
As a room-mate, Rahul was difficult as well as easy to share with. He wanted a zen-like atmosphere
in the room everything peaceful and calm. He was quiet and meditative, would not watch TV much;
he read books instead. He didnt seem to realise that the rest of us were normal human beings who
wanted to make noise. He had his set routines and rituals, even in those days. He would do breathing
exercises and clean his nostrils using the ancient practice of Jalneti. It was very boring, but in
hindsight I wish I had done the same. Perhaps then I might have graduated to a higher level of cricket
too.
Rahul set the bar high for himself. Sunil Gavaskar and Gundappa Viswanath were his heroes, and
while he may not admit it, he tried to model his game on Gavaskar s. I remember during a physics
lesson in class six or seven, while the teacher was explaining how specific gravity is equal to relative
density, Rahul quipped: SG = RD. Sunil Gavaskar = Rahul Dravid.
In 1987, we were in Nagpur for an age-group inter-zone tournament. A few of us were standing by
a juice stall in the hostels atrium when a curly-haired short guy walked up and asked for Mujib-urRehman, a Tamil Nadu batsman. We told him Rehman was over-age and was not part of the squad.
When he left, Rahul said: This guy is a good player. He is going to play for India. I laughed, but the
next day that kid got a big hundred for West Zone. It was Sachin Tendulkar; inside two years he had
made his debut for India.
Rahul knew very early in life what he wanted. And that came from his upbringing. His parents
equipped him with solid middle-class values that helped him move seamlessly from one level to the
other.
His ability to look at the big picture at a young age was amazing. When we were concentrating on
getting into Under-19 sides, he was already thinking of excelling in the Ranji Trophy a leap I could
not even comprehend at that age. After he made his Ranji debut he told me it was just the beginning

and that he now wanted to play for India. After he returned from his debut Test series in England, he
said he wanted to be remembered as one of the greatest to have played for India, not some also-ran.
As the years went by, his determination to excel only grew, which meant he was often harsh on
himself. In the 1996-97 season he was playing in the Ranji Trophy for Karnataka after being dropped
from the India squad for the ODI series against Sri Lanka, supposedly because of his defensive style
of batting. We were playing at the RSI grounds in central Bangalore, where our dressing room was a
makeshift tent. During lunch one day, a spectator walked up and started to criticise Rahuls batting and
slow scoring. The man kept going at him but Rahul sat there quietly with his pads on. After a while I
half stood up to give the man a piece of my mind, but Rahul pulled me back down. Once he left, Rahul
said the man had made a couple of good points, and that it was good to take in constructive criticism.
The more successful Rahul became, the more humble he got.
But while he was patient, hed speak his mind if he wasnt happy with your work. In 1998,
Karnataka travelled to play Hyderabad in the Ranji semi-final in Secunderabad. We were desperate to
do well that season and the pressure was on. Half an hour before the end of the second days play I
was batting with Rahul. He warned me not to get distracted while Hyderabads veteran spinners,
Venkatapathy Raju and Kanwaljit Singh, were bowling together, and said to play out the day. Coming
from a man who can play out days for a run, it was hardly surprising. Unfortunately I got an inside
edge onto my pads and was caught at silly point.
Later Rahul gave me some stick for the dismissal, which I did not like at the time. I told my roommate, J Arun Kumar, that till we won the match I wouldnt talk to Rahul. The match went down to the
wire and I scored a crucial 51 in our successful chase. Then we patched up and had a good laugh. In a
way, Rahul letting me have it spurred me to do better.
He always inspired youngsters with his leadership qualities and his performances. He is the perfect
example of practise what you preach. He would never ask you to do anything he would not do
himself. The seriousness with which he played affected the various dressing rooms he was in India,
Karnataka, and even the corporate club, India Cements, that he played for in the Chennai leagues.
People always had immense respect for him, and it was difficult at times for me to decide who was
better: Rahul Dravid the human being or Rahul Dravid the cricketer.
Fazal Khaleel, a former Karnataka first-class cricketer who played age-group cricket and Ranji Trophy with Rahul Dravid,
spoke to ESPNcricinfo assistant editor Nagraj Gollapudi

Grassy wicket? No problem. Baby Rahul with his parents

An early start: Dravid wields a bat nearly as big as himself

In his India Under-19 days

The elaborate forward defence, bat safely behind pad,

on show in a Ranji Trophy match against Tamil Nadu in 1991

The Bangalore boys: Dravid, Venkatesh Prasad, Javagal Srinath and Anil Kumble, flanked by offspinner Rangarao Ananth on the left
and former England batsman Colin Cowdrey on the right, at the Karnataka State Cricket Association

Class of 1996: Dravid announced his arrival in Test cricket with 95 at Lords

Batting during his first-innings 190 in Hamilton in 1999. He made a hundred in the second innings as well.

Dropped for his slow scoring before the 1999 World Cup, he began the tournament with a 129-ball 145 in Taunton, and finished it as
the highest run-getter

In Kent colours, 2000: Dravid said his six-month stint with the county helped him better understand his game and himself

The duet: some of Dravids finest efforts came with VVS Laxman at the other end most famously his 180 in Kolkata in 2001

In 2002 he mastered the swing and seam of Headingley, making a teeth-gritted 148 to set the platform for Indias first Test win in
England in 16 years

Solo again: in Adelaide in 2003, his 233 and 72 not out gave India their first Test win in Australia since 1981

Dravid carried on in the 2003 World Cup where he had left off in 1999, scoring 318 runs. He also kept wicket, effecting 16 dismissals

Colour-coordinated with wife Vijeeta on holiday in Santorini, Greece, 2004

With sons Samit (above) and Anvay

His highest score, the 270 in Rawalpindi in 2004, was his fourth double-hundred in 20 months. India won the Test by an innings, and
the series 2-1

Dravid won the first ICC awards for Player of the Year and Test Player of the Year, in September 2004, for over 2000 runs across
both formats

Physios delight: Dravid rarely flunked the dreaded skin-folds test, and remained in peak fitness till the end of his career

Kingston, 2006 was another classic of standalone defiance. Dravids 81 and 68 won India their first series in the West Indies in 35
years

One of the toughest days of his captaincy came when India left the 2007 World Cup in the first round after defeats to Bangladesh and
Sri Lanka

The fab four: Dravid, Sourav Ganguly, VVS Laxman and Sachin Tendulkar, on the 2007 tour of England

His captaincy career ended on a high, with a win in the Pataudi Trophy Indias first series victory in England since 1986

On his third trip to Australia, in 2007-08, Dravid broke out of a run of poor form to score a crucial 93 in Indias famous win in Perth

In 2008, he became the sixth batsman to have scored 10,000 Test runs. Sunil Gavaskar and Sachin Tendulkar are the only other
Indians to have gone past the milestone

Long one of Indias best specialist slip catchers, in December 2010, Dravid broke the world record, taking his 200th catch in Tests

If its June, it must be Jamaica: another win in Kingston for India, thanks largely to Dravids second-innings 112

Fifteen years after his debut at Lords, Dravid returned to England for one of his finest series, with three Test hundreds and an
average of 76

Old-school Test batsman or not, Dravid didnt fare too badly in the IPL. In 2012 he captained Rajasthan Royals in the tournament.

[ 26 ]

My husband the perfectionist

VIJEETA DRAVID

ve been married to Rahul for almost nine years now and we have always been very private people.
IThis
is not meant to be a song of praise for him on his retirement; Im writing this to provide an
insight into the role cricket has played in his life, and to take that in for myself at the end of his 16year international career. How the game has made him who he is and how he has been able to get the
most out of his time in international cricket.
The last 12 months of his career were very special for us for more than the runs or centuries Rahul
scored. After the 2010-11 tour of South Africa, our older son, Samit, suddenly developed a huge
interest in cricket. With him watching his father score his centuries in England in 2011, it was as if in
the last year of his career Rahul had found his best audience.
I was with the boys at Old Trafford when Rahul played his first (and last) T20 international, and we
also travelled to every match of the one-day series. During the ODI series, we went into the Lords
dressing room and showed Samit and Anvay their babas name on the Lords honours board. It was a
huge thrill for both boys to see Rahul play live in front of so many people, to see him at the work
that kept him away from them for months.
Rahul and I will always treasure that memory. Our families had been friends for years. I have two
older brothers, which meant I did follow cricket but only one-day cricket, I must confess. I didnt
have a clue about Test cricket and was too caught up in my post-graduate studies in medicine to find
out. What I did know was that Rahul had been picked to play for India, and later that he was doing
well.
A couple of times during Tests in Nagpur, Rahul dropped in at our house for dinner: very normal
evenings; people were not invited in to show him off to. What I noticed then was how curious he was
about other people and their lives. Very little of the conversation was about him. We would talk more
about my internship in surgery and my work as a rural medical officer than about his cricket. At the
time I appreciated it, but I didnt quite realise what an unusual quality that really is. Now that I have
witnessed the crazy world of Indian cricket, I think he must have enjoyed those dinners. Just a normal
evening in a normal house, without fuss, where he was treated like a normal person, which he has
always been.
After we got married, I stepped into a completely alien environment. All he had said to me was that
once we were married, we would travel a lot, I would meet a lot of different people and I would learn
along the way. As part of my post-graduate training I had spent a year in a Maharashtra village as a
medical officer, working with basic facilities, helping women deliver babies, doing surgeries and
post-mortems. I was very involved with my work, had seen a lot of life by then; my post-graduation
studies had made me a little more mature than I would have been if I had got married at 21. In cricket,
I found people talking about difficulties and pressures, how to handle being dropped and so on. I
didnt get it at all. To me the real anxieties of life were under the knife, the real pressures were in
hospital wards.

Very early in our marriage, I remember Rahul saying to me that he was hoping to play for the next
three or four years and that he would need me to be with him to support him in that time. When he
retired in March 2012, I thought: not bad, weve done better than the three or four years he thought
about in 2003. We have shared a very good half of his cricket career together, and knowing how
much he loves the game, that has mattered to me.
It was six months before I travelled with him for the first time, when the Indian team toured
Australia in 2003. It had been six months without international cricket we had spent three months in
Scotland, and only when we came back to India did I hear people talk about Australia. I had no clue as
to how he had fared in 1999, why the tour was so important to everyone. Rahul never spoke about it
himself either. It was as if he was conscious that while his career was the only thing that was talked
about, his wife was an individual herself and her world was as important as his was.
I watched his Adelaide innings back home on television with his parents, everyone getting up at five
in the morning. I didnt realise the magnitude of that innings in cricketing terms. We saw him go from
199 overnight on the third day to 200 very early on a Monday morning. When I went in to work that
day, to St Johns Medical College, I was told there were some reporters who had come to talk to me. I
didnt speak to them, of course, but I could tell people were happy. I fully understood the significance
of Rahuls double-century and that victory much, much later.
When I went to Melbourne and Sydney, I was happy that I was back with him and he was doing well.
I was still trying to get to know him, know his game. It was only then that I began to notice how he
would prepare: his routines, his obsession with shadow practice at all hours of the day, which I first
found very weird. (At one point I thought he was sleepwalking.)
Ive learnt what I have about Test cricket by talking to him, and a few of his close friends, who have
helped me understand the tempo of Test cricket, bowling changes, field placements and the
importance of sessions all the things that can make Test cricket an adventure. As I began to
understand the game, I got hooked on to it, so much so that when there was a match I wanted to follow
but there was no live TV, I followed the game on the internet and enjoyed the text commentary as
much as I did the immediacy of being able to follow scores. These days, of course, I have my own
theories about cricket, which he has to listen to.
Early in our marriage I saw that there was nothing about his cricket that was casual, unconscious or
accidental. Before he went on tour, I would pack all his other bags, but his cricket kit was sacred. Only
Rahul handled it. I did not even touch it. I packed his things knowing full well that if I packed two sets
of informal clothes, he would wear them in turn all through a tour for weeks if he had to and not think
about it. He has used one type of moisturising cream for his dry skin for 20 years. He is not
enamoured of gadgets and barely registers brands, of watches, cologne or cars. If the weight of his
bat is off by a gram, though, Rahul will notice it in an instant and get the problem fixed.
Everyone around him knew that cricket was and had to be his utmost priority. On match days Rahul
wanted his space and his silence. He didnt like being rushed, not for the bus, not to the crease. All he
said he needed was ten minutes to himself, to get what I thought of as his internal milieu settled,
before he could get into a match day.
When we began to travel with the kids and he loved having the boys around during a series, even
when they were babies we made sure we got two rooms, next to each other. The day before every
match, the boys were told that their father had to be left alone for a while, and he was. He would go
into his room to meditate or maybe to do a few visualisation exercises. On the morning of the game,

he would get up and do another session of meditation before leaving for the ground. I have tried
meditation myself and I know that the zone Rahul is able to get into as quickly as he does takes a lot of
years of training to reach. It is all part of the complete equilibrium he tries to achieve before getting
into a series.
Like all players, Rahul too has his superstitions; sometimes they work, sometimes they dont. He
doesnt try a new bat out in a series, and he puts his right thigh guard on first. On the 2011 tour to
England, he made sure he sat in the same space in the Lords dressing room that Tillakaratne Dilshan
had occupied when he scored 193 earlier in the season. In that game, Rahul got his first Test hundred
at Lords.
Despite all this preparation and attention to detail, once the game is on, he has this fantastic ability
to switch off from it. At the end of the days play, he may be thinking about it, his batting may bother
him, he will be itching to go back and try again, but at that point he can compartmentalise his life very
well. He wont order room service or brood indoors. He would rather go out, find something to do:
go to a movie or watch musicals which he loves. He will walk out to the sea to wind down or go to
bookstores.
Rahul has been able to deal with all that goes on in cricket because of two reasons he can put
things in perspective and he can switch focus from one world to another when he needs to. Whatever
happened in his cricket, at home he was always husband, father, family man. Never Mr Gloomy. He
never came home saying, Oh, Ive had a bad day. Unless asked, he wouldnt speak about his work.
Other than dropped catches.
When he was going through a very tough time, around the 2010-11 season, the one thing that
bothered him was that he didnt want to be playing if he wasnt contributing and if he was taking a
youngster s place. He did think about retirement then. He had more than 10,000 Test runs, and he had
always said that he would go if he was not contributing. Because this is what I have stood for, he
said. To play well in tough conditions, play well abroad, to contribute to victories. We did have
discussions about whether he should go at that time, and a lot of my answers would be about my gut. I
always told him, I dont know about averages. I just said to him that he was the one who knew
everything about his game. In January 2011, after South Africa, on instinct I said to him, Hang on,
give it another series and then see if you are taking anyones place.
Rahul has always had a very good understanding of what was important about his being in cricket
and what was not. It can only come from a real deep love for the game. When I began to understand
the politics that exist in the game, he only said one thing: this game has given me so much in life that I
will never be bitter. There is so much to be thankful for, and regardless of everything, that will never
go away.
Only once, I remember, he returned from a Test and said, Shucks, I shouldnt have done
something I got a bit angry today. I lost my temper in the dressing room. He wouldnt say more.
Many months later Veeru (Sehwag) told me that Rahul had actually thrown a chair that day. Id never
seen him like that and he threw a chair not because wed lost but because of how wed lost.
He has always been even-tempered, on good days and bad. He never grumbles, and it is very, very
difficult to understand what he is feeling, because he can internalise everything. He often said that to
succeed in international cricket for such a long time, I have only thought about me and my cricket
but Im learning to be unselfish. That said, he found a way to work his training around the family. He
often fit in his five hours of training and nets when none of us were at home. If Samit needs help with

his homework, Rahul will be there to help.

Of course we argue, like all couples do. We did as young parents, over who changed the nappies or
why he didnt get angry about this or that. Cricketers have to be diplomatic when talking to the media
during series, but I remember telling him during the course of a phone conversation once, Hello,
Im your wife. Dont speak as if this is a press conference. In turn, he gets irritated with me when I
am being what he calls a little wife-ish and asking him why he did what he did and why he didnt
tick somebody off or say no to something.
If given a choice, he would never celebrate any of his on-field achievements at home, because, he
said, his enjoyment came when he was on the field, batting or competing. What he wanted after that
was to find out when he was going to bat again. I was the one who insisted that we rejoice when good
things happened. Not by throwing a lavish party or anything showy, but just by bringing home some
ice-cream. I often tell Rahul he is a very good husband but would have been a very boring boyfriend!
He has always had a wide view of the world and the ability to see the larger picture and take things
beyond the trivial and the individual. After he received the Padma Shri in Delhi for 2004, along with
Sourav, the next day he looked at the papers and said that to see just their photos on the front pages
was unfortunate. Rahul was saying this at home, not to impress people as to how modest he was. He
doesnt like the word hero being used carelessly, because to him real heroes are soldiers, scientists,
doctors.
In all these years he has let me be me. He didnt care about the correct cricket wife image. He
wasnt fussed about anything whether I worked when I wanted to, what I said to anyone. Ive read a
lot of stuff about how cricketers get disturbed when their wives are on tour. Rahul was fine when I
travelled, both in the Pakistani winter, when Samit was three months old, and two months later in the
West Indies. It meant that once we lived out of a hotel room for 69 days at a stretch; not easy with a
baby.
Rahul enjoyed being a father and was also very, very patient. (Though he also knew that a dad who
has fielded for 90 overs in the Caribbean heat is not going to be asked to change nappies!) We had our
challenges as travelling parents. Samit once burned his hand in the West Indies when Rahul was on the
field. At the end of it all, though, it was wonderful to enter the dressing room to celebrate Indias first
series win there after 35 years. He insisted that all the wives and family on tour were invited into the
dressing room and included in the celebrations most satisfying for all of us who were travelling
with the team. It was repeated in England the year after.
Next only to my father, I think of Rahul as the most non-materialistic person I have ever come
across. Gadgets, gizmos, brands, are completely lost on him. I remember entering the room for the
inaugural ICC awards event, when he looked at a car on display, the one that was to be given to the
Player of the Year, and said, Will be nice to get it. I knew he wasnt thinking about the car. The other
nominees included big names like Brian Lara, Ricky Ponting, Matthew Hayden and Muttiah
Muralitharan. The ceremony was very long, we had to go through many courses of our sit-down
English dinner. When he was awarded the Player of the Year, he gave me a little hug before going on
stage, and to me that said it all. It meant a lot to him.
Retirement will mean a big shift in Rahuls life, of not having training or team-mates around him
or the chance to compete again. The family, though, is delighted to have him back.
This article was first published on ESPNcricinfo on March 12, 2012

[ 27 ]

When youve played at the top, its hard to settle for second-best
INTERVIEW BY SHARDA UGRA
March 2012

How does a player pick the right time to retire? How did you? Whats the difference between a
slump and a sign that your time is up? What separates doubt from foresight?
Its actually very hard to tell if there is such a thing as a right time. All your career, youre taught to
never never give up. Youre fighting, you keep improving, you always think you can sort out
problems. I never thought about going out on a high or going out on a slump. A lot of people told me:
You will just know, Rahul, when the time is right. Obviously there are other things that come into
consideration: where you are in your life, where the team is at that point of time, what the future
challenges are, how you fit into that. There are the immediate challenges of tours like Australia and
England, which you think are tough, and you want to try to go there and make a difference.
In the end it just comes down to knowing and being comfortable with it. And I just think I was most
comfortable doing it at this stage. If things had not gone well in England, maybe I would have been
comfortable doing it then. Obviously after England I felt I was in good form and that I needed to go to
Australia, and I felt that it was going to be a tough tour and that it wouldnt be right to walk away after
doing well in England it may sound silly, but just wanting to finish on a high that hadnt occurred
to me, in the sense that I wanted to go when I was comfortable.
There was a period in 2008, the end of 2008, when I was really struggling and not getting runs, and
there was a lot of talk of me being dropped. If I had been dropped at that stage, I wouldve still
continued to play first-class cricket. Not with the intention of trying to make a comeback I know that
if I had got dropped at 36 or 37, the likelihood of me making a comeback would have been very slim.
I wouldnt have played for wanting to make a comeback, but because I still wanted to just play the
game. It was a game I loved and I still enjoyed playing it. I probably would have continued playing
Ranji Trophy at that stage. And how long that would have lasted, who knows.
But to end a career with the IPL?
In some ways its like a weaning-off period. Playing cricket has been such a big part of my life, so to
just walk away might have been hard. Some of the senior guys whove retired and played the IPL say
the IPLs a good way, in some ways, to slowly wean yourself off the drug that is cricket.
What do you assess when making a decision to retire?
Its a combination of things. The important thing to remember is how much you are contributing.
Thats a major factor. As you get older these things do come in, and thats why I said that England for
me it was important for me to keep contributing.
After retiring, did you think: what if this is a mistake?
I think the best question someone asked me about this retirement thing came from Eric Simons. I
called him up and said, Eric, Im retiring. And Eric said, When you made that decision, Rahul, did
you feel relief or did you feel disappointment? And I had never thought about it that way. It was a
feeling of relief and I did feel it. Ive not regretted it.
Ive lived this life for 20 years. I havent regretted it and I hope I wont regret it. I dont know, I

might miss it. We miss a lot of things. We miss college, everyone wants to go back to Uni and live that
life again, but you know thats not possible. Hopefully you move on. You will know that there are
other things to do and other challenges.
What about international cricket wont you miss, apart from the travel and being away from
family?
In a cricket career your life is in some ways controlled for you. You have no control over schedules,
you have no control about where you want to play, you dont have control over that as a cricketer. I
think while Ill miss the routine and knowing what to strive for, I think Ill enjoy the flexibility of
being able to make some choices about things I want to do. Ill enjoy the luxury of now having that
choice.
What is it about life after cricket that you think a player fears the most?
Each one has his own fears, when its something youve done all your life. And when its the only
thing that youve known, its almost like starting out fresh again. Its almost like going back to
college, like going back to what you felt like when making a decision about whether you want to do
commerce or engineering. The only problem is, you are doing it at 40 rather than at 17 or 18, and
with skills youve worked on for 20 years at the exclusion of other skills. You have to start all over
again. That, I think, in a lot of ways can be daunting to people, and its not easy, especially, if I may
say so, because you are used to competing and playing at an extremely high level. You pride yourself
on a certain level of competence and a certain level of ability.
Very rarely people can, I think, step out of something theyve done for 23 years and attain the same
standards in whatever they do. When you are used to playing at that top level, its hard to accept that
sometimes you have to settle for being second-best. I guess thats the way its going to be. You cant
expect a guy at 40-41 to become world class at something else.
What do retired players tell you about coping?
I have spoken to people who have retired, and especially coaches. Whether its been conversations
with Kapil Dev or through the years with John [Wright], Greg [Chappell], Gary [Kirsten], and even
Duncan [Fletcher] now. All of them have gone through that, and they say it takes a bit of time to get
used to. You get used to it and then there are new things to challenge you and you must move on. Each
one is different, I guess.
Before you actually retired, was there a time in your career that you were so fed up that you
actually wanted to throw it all away?
Obviously the period just after the World Cup when we lost, in 2007, was difficult. It was the first
phase in my career, other than the first couple of years when I was establishing myself, that I got
dropped from the one-day side. Other than that I had a pretty smooth run for a long time. That was
tough in terms of some of my performances, that whole period, 2007-08, getting knocked out of the
World Cup and not performing so well after I gave up the captaincy, for a while. I think that was a
really hard period, when I questioned myself a lot and wondered whether it had all just disappeared
and gone away.
I thought Id really had a good run and I could have walked away in 2008 and felt pretty
comfortable with what I had done and achieved, and I wouldnt have regretted it at all. Because Ive
always tried to do my best youve always got to try to be the best you can be and hope that the
results fall your way. If it hadnt worked out, it hadnt worked out. But I was lucky to get a chance to
play a couple of years of cricket.

How much was working on your fitness a part of pushing yourself through the last four or five
years from then on?
I spent two-three years working with Paul Chapman, who was the strength and conditioning coach at
the NCA, and with the NCAs physios and trainers, on raising the bar of my fitness. I was lucky that we
had all those people here. I saw in those physios and trainers, and in Paul, a resource really good
professional people who could help me. And I sort of decided to utilise that completely. I did make a
conscious effort to try and raise the bar of my fitness, because if I wanted to keep playing at this age, I
didnt want any of the younger guys or people in the field to feel that I wasnt fit enough to be there.
Sometimes performances you can or cant control, but fitness, I think, to a large extent you can
control. Im not saying you can control everything in fitness there are a lot of guys who have
injuries, who, whatever they do and whatever they try, sadly they cant do much about it. But in most
things, fitness and diet and stuff like that, you have responsibility over it.
Sometimes you practise and work hard and still things dont pan out. But fitness is a lot simpler. I
said, Look, Ill make an effort to be as fit as Ive been. While I did try, it was hard to say Ive been at
my fittest. In some areas I was fitter than I was at 24-25 and in some areas I was not. But Id like to
believe that till I finished my career, I set a pretty high standard of fitness for myself, and that I didnt
let anybody down in terms of the effort I put in, in terms of my physical fitness.
Did it have a direct impact on your game in the last few years?
Its hard to co-relate the two. You do perform better when youre fit, you do feel better about
yourself, but its hard to say. Even when I was doing badly in 2007-08, I was pretty fit. Was I really
fitter in England last year than I was in 2007 when I was doing badly? Really, no. Probably I was fitter
back then when I was in England, so no. Sometimes fitness is a good thing to have but you have to
recognise that fitness takes you only so far, and skills are the most important thing.
Fitness just helps you execute those cricketing skills for longer and more consistently, maybe. If
someone thinks, Ill spend the off season working on my fitness and Ill come back a better
cricketer, I dont think thats enough. You need to spend a lot of time working on your skills and
honing your skills.
When cricketers go into their late 30s do they sense what the outside world observes as a fading
of their skills? Slowing down of reflexes, eyesight etc?
I didnt sense it like that personally, but maybe we are trained not to sense it, who knows? Maybe
sometimes these things are better judged from outside. As a player you will never admit to weakness,
to a slowing down of skills. Youre trained not to admit these things. You have bad patches when you
are 24-25, and its only when you have bad patches after 35-36 that people say your skills are down,
the eyesight is gone. Maybe it has nothing to do with age and youre just going through bad form and
you happen to be 35. After 35, I felt as fit in terms of physical fitness if you judge fitness in terms of
sprinting a distance, running a distance, whatever yo-yo tests we have and weights you lift as I was
when I was playing my best cricket, at 28-29. I was probably doing more in terms of some things now
than I was when I was young.
How do you judge eyesight? If you go to a doctor and ask him, he will say youve still got 20-20
vision. Maybe [time] just wears you down the travelling, the pressure, the dealing with expectations,
those things slowly start chipping away, chipping away. Its hard to put a date to it and say, Now its
started decreasing and now it has decreased.
The best explanation Ive heard for this is that mentally sometimes you are fresher when you are

younger. Youve not been worn down so much. So your response to defeat, failure, success, pressure
is better. As you get older, the freshness gets lost, the sense of excitement. Like what you experience
the first time you walk into Lords. After youve been there three or four times, maybe that sense of
wonder goes. Thats the best explanation for why after a period of dealing with some of the same
things they become more difficult, rather than a fading of skill.
Australia must have been the tour from hell? You went there with the best intentions, the best
preparation, and it all went badly. What went wrong?
I think Australia was disappointing. In England I felt we had quite a few injuries and I just felt we
werent as well prepared as we were in Australia. Australia, I thought we went there with the best of
intentions, the guys cared. They played better, they pitched the ball up, we had some opportunities in
the first Test we didnt grab. We had them at some 210 for 6 and then they got 320 and we were about
220 for 2, and Sachin got out that evening and I got out next morning. Having said that, you have got
to give them credit. They bowled well, pitched the ball up, they swung the ball.
From a personal point of view? All the bowleds?
It was disappointing. You set high standards for yourself. I felt that getting out is getting out and
obviously constantly getting out
So it really doesnt matter whether you were out caught, lbw, stumped, bowled, whatever?
I dont like getting out, period. How it happens is almost irrelevant. But yeah, obviously it happened a
few times more than I would have liked, no doubt about it. The beauty of it is that now I dont have to
worry about it.
But those are challenges you face all your life. I think that is what differentiates people who play for
long periods of time from others, because they keep getting asked questions. Top bowlers and top
bowling attacks keep asking you different questions. For some it is getting out in a particular way, for
some it is the ability to play spin, for some to play pace. For some it is a different bowler, a unique
angle, on a different wicket. These questions keep getting asked and you have to constantly keep
coming up with answers. Most of the guys that I know who have played over a period of time have
constantly been able to find answers to the questions that keep getting asked. You become a problemsolver, a solution-finder. Id like to believe that if I had continued, I would hopefully have worked on
this area [getting bowled] and got better at it.
Given that you are seen as a classical, almost old-fashioned, Test player, and you know your
history, is there an era in the game you would have liked to have played in?
When I think about the fact that I had helmets, I think Im happy to have played in this era. Playing
some of those West Indian quicks and some of those guys without a helmet must have been a
frightening proposition.
You were a No. 3 in the mould largely of an opening batsman. So do you think that coming into a
line-up full of stroke-makers actually worked for your game, as much as you lent solidity to it?
Imagine being the No. 3 after an opening combination of Boycott and Tavar.
I think we all complemented each other. The fact that we did quite well in the last decade, home and
away, with our ups and downs, was because of a batting line-up that complemented each other. There
were stroke-makers, there were guys who played spin in a particular way, guys who were more
solid throw in a left-hander in the middle. We complemented each other quite well, we fed off each
other. I think we played a role, in each helping the other one do as well as they have done.
Veeru [Sehwag] and Gautam Gambhir have come in and done quite well and played a role too. I

think I had a role, and I helped some of the guys play better. The ability to wear out some of the
bowlers did help our stroke-makers. The fact that some of them played more strokes allowed me to
sometimes play in a way that I could play or felt most comfortable playing. Over the course of time
we also found our niche, our own places. We all played for such a long time together that we worked
out what was comfortable for us, and it seemed to gel well and it worked for the team as well.
You have the world record for the most century partnerships. When you look back, do batting
partners have what they say doubles players do in tennis a chemistry that builds? Or is it just
familiarity?
It partly builds with familiarity. Once youve been around each other a long time and played together
a long time, it does help its a comfort factor. You have some memories to go back to constantly. It
does help when you have a guy at the other end who knows your game well and sometimes can just
point out a few things, or knows exactly when youre getting casual or youre not concentrating. For
me its worked well with all the guys Ive played with. Over the course of time it has built. Ive had a
good record with Veeru, Sachin, Laxman, because weve played together a long time.
In a partnership, you dont change your game. The conversations are different. Each one has his
own unique conversations with you and you have your conversation with them. With Veeru, as you
would expect, its probably a casual conversation he brings that side out of you.
What do you talk about? Technique?
I know people go after Veerus technique a lot, but to be a positive player you have to have a very
solid technique. Technique is not only about being able to defend balls. If you are able to play
positively, it means you are getting yourself in the right position at the right time and doing it quicker
and better than someone else. That in itself is a technique, and its just that theres an attacking
technique and a defensive technique. I think both are important. Some guys are better at their
defensive technique and some guys have a better attacking technique. Both of them are techniques.
So with Veeru, its a lot more casual and relaxed. If you asked him, he would say, Im actually
quite serious with Rahul, but his level of seriousness Veeru is always asking you to play shots.
With Sachin we dont talk a lot, but I think we know, we respect and know each other enough to
go and tell the other that maybe you are relaxing, you need to tighten up a bit. Theres quite a lot of
information that is exchanged.
With Laxman weve played a lot together in junior cricket, so again we have a few key things we
say to each other, and we keep encouraging each other. We dont talk too much about technique, we
just encourage each other a lot.
With Ganguly its, Dont just hog the strike when the spinner is bowling, and get me on the strike
as well, buddy.
One of the things youve said about batting is that it is a meditative experience. When you come
in at 3 for 1, India is fighting to save a game, how is that possible?
You cant think about these things when you are batting and the bowler is running in at you. That is, I
guess, the meditative aspect of it. It sort of focuses you on one thing, and thats meditation, I guess: the
ability to focus on a particular thing by removing everything else the score, the situation. You cant
be thinking about all these things, so you try to get that one particular focus, which, I guess, is the
cricket ball. If you have to be a successful batsman you have to be able to focus on the ball. You cant
be thinking about a hundred things, you cant.

But you did take to meditation itself as a tool for preparation?

I took to it quite young. I was just drawn to it. I did it a couple of times at 18-19, some basic form of
meditation. I think I got better with age. It started off with trying to do some relaxation, to just calm
myself down in some ways. And Ive experimented with a few things, not out-of-body experiences or
anything, but I just found that it was a great way to relax and switch off.
I was a bit of an anxious teenager. I would worry a lot and was quite a shy young kid in some ways.
Though I always believed I had the ability to look at the positive side of a lot of things. Even in the
most difficult situations, it was very seldom that I would get down on myself and keep moping. I
would always look ahead. I think I was more anxious about the future rather than worrying about the
past. I would get more anxious about what might happen whats next, how will I cope with it? So I
think things like meditation and just being calm and relaxed definitely did help me come through that,
especially when I was a youngster.
What kind of routines did you have when you prepared for games? Were they different for Tests
and ODIs?
They were just a few basic things, it wasnt too much. You had to be flexible. You couldnt say this
was the only thing that I did and I didnt do anything else.
One of the things was that I didnt like to get rushed on the morning of a game. So I got up a lot
earlier, took my time doing things, just eased into things. But again, you had to be flexible about
practices. Sometimes you got good facilities, sometimes you didnt. I just wanted to feel comfortable.
When I went into a Test match, I wanted to feel ready, like Id practised hard enough, Id hit enough
balls, physically Id done what I needed to do. Mentally again, Id done the preparation, and I felt in a
good, calm space where I was eager to perform without being too anxious. Or being too stressed or
tense about what might happen.
To be fair, I never always reached it. Its very difficult to do always. The constant process is to
always try to sort of reach that. Because once youve experienced it, and seen that, you want that to be
the template. But as long as you are trying to achieve that or striving to achieve that, then you get
there or thereabouts at most times. Which is all I tried to do. I tried to give myself the best chance. It is
not that every time I cracked it Id be in the same perfect state of mind, of course not. But Id like to
believe I got most things done, in terms of my preparation leading into a game. If you got enough
sleep, you were more relaxed in the morning leading into the game. I did visualisation sometimes, on
and off and when I felt like it, not all the time. Even with the meditation stuff, as I became better at it, I
didnt need to do it every time.
What is the biggest challenge of being a No. 3 in international cricket these days? Do you believe
a decade of batsmanship is now going to be followed by the age of the bowlers?
I felt that, even in 2000 there were good attacks. You look at any attack that had McGrath, Lee,
Gillespie that was a good attack.
I dont know if the challenges for the No. 3 have been any different. You have to sometimes go in
when the ball is new, so lots of times youre playing the new ball really, which is part of the
challenge. Its also a position where sometimes the openers might have a good partnership, so youve
been waiting a while. Its almost a state of readiness you have to be in because you might have to go
in in the first over or you might not go in for a long time. That might be true for a No. 3 but the Nos.
4, 5, 6 have a little more breathing space. They can wait a little for the first wicket to fall before they
know that they might need to go in early. If an opening partnership develops, a No. 4 can afford to

relax and settle down and switch off a little bit because he knows that even if a wicket falls, the No. 3
will go in and I can have a little time to switch on and get ready. In that sense, the No. 3 doesnt have
that. But I dont think that has been different for any generation.
Is not the game itself changing, the pace of Test cricket itself fewer draws?
Fewer draws is a good thing because people are playing more shots. Theres no doubt that people
want to play shots, they want to score quicker, and it does sometimes compromise your defensive
technique. It does, and you know its a trade-off. There are risks when you do that and you have to
weigh the risks and play the shots. It makes for a more exciting brand of cricket when people see
wickets fall and runs being scored, which is good, but also sometimes there are times when you need
to have the ability to see off difficult periods.
Its not necessarily that you need to play defensive, tight cricket all through the Test match, but you
should also have the ability to recognise moments in a Test match when it needs to be done. Whether
its saving a Test match, its the morning of a Test match, whether its when the second new ball is to
be taken and theres going to be a good spell. Being able to recognise those moments and being able
to adapt and play your game, to have the game to be able to do that, is important. You deciding to play
in one particular way all the time, whether thats defensive or its positive, is not necessarily in the
best interests of the team. Sometimes the team might need you to grind it out and you should have the
skills and the ability to do that and you should take pride in learning those skills and wanting to do
that if you dont have them.
The flip side of the coin is that there might be times the team might need you to play positively and
want you to play some shots and set up the game. Then you should be able to do that as well. It works
both ways, and sometimes I feel that this ability to see out a tough period and grind out a tough period
is something that you might lose the ability to do, if batsmen are not careful.
Has the definition of quality batsmanship changed over the course of your career? Are there just
fewer people able to meet that description?
Quality batsmanship for me is being able to play according to the situation, having the ability to play
all sorts of roles. Quality batsmanship is not only playing great shots or only leaving good balls.
Quality batsmanship is having a range to be able to do all things in all conditions consistently over a
period of time. Some are more pleasing to the eye and some are less pleasing to the eye. Thats the
nature of how we play, and thats the gift of timing. Thats something you cant teach. Thats just how
we are, but in terms of our value to the team, its incredibly important that you explore the range of
your skills and all the skills required to succeed in Test cricket.
Thats why Test cricket is the greatest form of the game, because it throws up different challenges
at different times. You can really see in Test cricket the successful guys are problem-solvers, who
would have found a way or skills to find solutions necessary to succeed in all these situations.
Whereas in one-day and T20, you can get away, because of the place where you bat. You could be a
No. 6 all your life and you could be fine. You dont need certain skills or to play certain kinds of
bowling. You could make a successful career of it, but you cant do that in Test cricket, because even
a No. 6, in certain times, would be forced or challenged to play good-quality quick bowling.
Sometimes in the first session of a Test match or with the second new ball. Test cricket is a bit more
of a thorough examination of your skills.
Given your style of batting, when ODI cricket began to grow, did you almost feel that you
belonged to another time and another environment? How did you cope with that?

I did belong to another generation. When I grew up playing cricket, it was all about playing Test
cricket. It was all about being a great Test player. In those days the teams were picked for Test cricket,
for Test matches, and the same team played the one-dayers. The one-dayers were almost a
preparation. Even when we went to England in 1996, I remember the same Test team played the onedayers. They were played beforehand. The senior guys almost saw the one-dayers as preparation for
the Test matches. Thats how it was considered as late as 95-96. But you could sense ODIs were
slowly coming.
Then, as I started playing, the one-day thing exploded. I had to adapt and I had to learn how to play a
few more shots. I got dropped from the one-day side, I had to fight my way back and learn how to
play it. You could see from the way people were playing the first 10-15 overs of the one-day game
that a lot of this was going to seep into Test cricket. You are seeing that now in T20 cricket also. That
1996 World Cup helped one-day cricket take off in a lot of ways. In India and across the world.
Did coping with the demands of ODI cricket benefit your Test game?
Im sure it did. The necessity and keenness to play more shots, to discover more shots, would
definitely have helped my Test game, because it would have meant that I could have brought some of
that into my game. In terms of shot-making and stroke-making ability, it did help my Test game.
Did you ever worry about being left out in this changing environment?
In 1998, when I was dropped, it did worry me a bit. But I also recognised that I needed to learn
certain skills. The game was changing around me and I needed to adapt and become better at it. I
wanted to play both forms of the game. At no stage did I ever think that I didnt want to play one-day
cricket, that Id be happy playing just Test cricket. I never wanted to do that. I wanted to play for India
all the time. I knew that I had the skills to play one-day cricket. I knew that I could do it. Obviously it
took me a little time. I had to practise it a little more, and I went through some ups and downs. I didnt
expect to be dropped at that stage. It was disappointing. It takes time to learn and grow in international
cricket, and I felt that I was just learning and beginning to grow and I had that setback. But I think
when I look back on it it doesnt make any difference now when you look back at it 15 years later,
its easier to say it did help me.
Being dropped took me away from the game, allowed me to practise, and I just fought my way
back. Being dropped and fighting my way back just showed me how much I wanted it. It just showed
me my own desire. It did a lot for me just personally, taught me that I can fight my way back out of
tough situations.
The 1999 World Cup was a watershed. I had just come back to the team for the World Cup. There
was not a lot of one-day cricket, and I got into the side four-five months before the World Cup. So to
do well in the World Cup and become the highest scorer or whatever, that sort of gave me the
confidence. This was a world event, a world stage, conditions outside India. I did well and it gave me
the confidence that from there on I could be fine.
How has the Indian dressing room changed from the time you walked into it and as you leave it
now?
Dressing rooms are dressing rooms. But when we started we didnt have a music box in the room. So
now its gone from no music box to loud music being played. I like the music. Sometimes the taste of
some of the guys in music, I might not particularly like. But you have to endure it sometimes. Rap
music is not my scene but it seems to be pretty popular nowadays. Theres a lot more support staff
now in the changing room than we had in those days. There is a level of professionalism that has

gone up in the way people prepare and in the way they look after themselves and their bodies. Thats
just a reflection of the game, professionalism in the game.
Youve played against many of the greats of the game and shared a dressing room with some of
them as well. Over and above ability, what would you say is the common denominator that can
actually be imitated?
They always put cricket first, irrespective of who they were, what they might have done, what their
other interests might have been. Cricket was the most important thing in their lives and doing well in
cricket was the most important thing. Everything else was secondary the fame, the money, the
attention. Each one of us might have done things differently, we have other interests, but underneath,
deep down, there was a huge desire to put cricket first and to become good cricketers. When I look
around, some of the legends I played with, in a world where there is so much external stimulus and
its increasing all the time its not that they didnt have other interests or do anything else in their
life and that cricket was everything, no. But at the core of it all, when everything was cleared away,
deep down they wanted to be really good cricket players. It wasnt necessarily about winning and
losing.
What advice would you give a Rahul Dravid if he was starting his cricket now, in this age?
I would definitely tell a young kid that you can learn all the three forms of the game and you should
aim to play and succeed in all three forms of the game. I would tell a kid that cricket is also a journey
of self-discovery and knowing yourself. You need to spend a lot of time understanding and figuring
out yourself as much as you need to spend learning the skills of the game. People talk about the
mental side of the game. You need to know what makes you tick, what your fears are, what your
doubts are, how you react in situations, how you react under pressure, how you react when you are
playing fast bowling and spin bowling. Each one of us is different, and everyone has fears and doubts.
Much is said about body language, and neither you nor the Indian team was big on body
language. In your experience, how much did that count in a competitor?
I feel that now good body language is sometimes equated to being abusive or aggressive. Each of us
is different, and I think there are people who show more of their body language in a particular
manner, and thats what works for them. Fair enough, Im not saying that thats wrong.
Body language can mean different things. Just because someone is not over-the-top competitive
doesnt mean hes not a good competitor. Or it doesnt mean hes not in for a fight. There are external
people and internal people. It doesnt mean that people who are more internal are less aggressive.
They can be as aggressive.
Sometimes the toughest bowlers, I found, were always the guys who gave away nothing, in terms of
the way they thought what got them angry, what got them frustrated. They were very, very hard
guys, because you knew they were just focused on bowling and doing the best they could. Someone
like McGrath, someone like Ambrose. When I played Ambrose, it was a great education for me. He
never said a thing. Ive never heard him speak. I dont know what he sounded like and I was on tour
for four months. He gave you nothing. He pitched every ball on the spot, he was proud of his skill and
his craft; he wanted to take wickets and he ran in with intensity.
You knew that intensity. You could sense that intensity with them. They did it throughout the day
without showing you much. There were a lot of guys who would shout, stare at you, swear. But you
knew they did not have the stamina or the fitness to survive till the end of the day. You could tell that
they were emotionally violent but that they would fade.

Then there were people like Warne or Murali. Warne was dramatic but he was also incredibly
aggressive. You knew that when he got the ball in the hand, he was going to come at you. I judge
aggression on the way people perform.
The bowlers I respected or feared or rated were not the ones who gave me lip or stared at me or
abused me. More the ones who, at any stage of the game, when they had the ball in hand, were going
to be at me, and they were going to have the skill and the fitness and the ability to be aggressive.
And that was easily picked up?
You could tell that very quickly. You can see the spell of a guy whos just raved and ranted, and after
tea you can see hes just not the same bowler. Hes not doing the discipline thing. The team might
require him to be bowling one line and blocking up the game because theres a big partnership
developing. And they are more interested in trying to be aggressive, to do their thing and trying to be
the hero. It becomes about them, not about what the team is trying to do.
Coming from a country like India, with a technique attuned to playing spin, what was it like
tackling Murali and Warne. What were the methods you used to face them?
No matter how much practice you have, these guys were great bowlers. They had variation,
consistency, control. There were some great spinners during that time Murali, Warne, and I was
lucky to play with Anil and Harbhajan, two guys who bowled well for us. You had Saqlain, who
bowled well against us in a couple of series. Daniel Vettori was extremely consistent, bowled good
tight lines. So these guys were good. I like to believe we played some of the worlds greatest spinners
better than some of the other teams did.
One of the things is that because we had so much practice, maybe we read some of these guys better.
One of the things we did better was that whenever a bad ball was bowled, we were able to punish it,
and we had the guys who had that skill. There was a certain amount of pressure on the spinners
bowling at us, that they had to be at their A game all the time. And when they were at their A game,
they knocked us over a few times, no doubt about it. But you had to be at your A game to do well
against us, and you cant be at your A game all the time.
What do you make of the general notion that struggling against fast bowling is worse than
struggling against spin?
I think that sort of thing is a throwback to the days when there was no helmet, so there was a fear of
injury when facing fast bowling. Everyone would have been scared, but I guess those who showed it
were considered weaker. Also, I think subcontinent tours in the old days were not considered the No. 1
tours people didnt necessarily value their tours to the subcontinent as much as they valued tours to
England, Australia or South Africa. That has changed now, and its pretty obvious that with the kind of
audience and support that cricket generates in this part of the world, a tour to this part of the world is
extremely important now.
Honestly, if you want to be a good batsman you have to prove yourself in all conditions. To say that
it is okay to do badly in the subcontinent, to do badly against spin, is not acceptable anymore. Its
slowly changing. When I look at the media in England, Australia, South Africa, in the past sometimes
they would almost have a casual attitude to performances on subcontinent tours. They are also putting
a lot more focus and emphasis on it now. When some of their players dont do well on the
subcontinental tours, they get criticised and it gets pointed out and questioned, which is a good thing.
Your captaincy had some good results and at the same time many dramas. What, firstly, did you
like about job?

I enjoyed the decision-making process in the middle. The actual captaincy side of things was good. I
enjoyed being part of the process of trying to build a team, trying to be creative, to see how we could
get the best out of players, see how we could win and compete with the resources we have. Those are
sides of captaincy you enjoy.
There were some good results. In the end you have to accept that you are judged a lot by the World
Cup in India, whether you like it not. Obviously that World Cup didnt go well and didnt pan out the
way I had hoped it would. So I guess it clouds a lot of what happened. But I think there were some
good results and there were some tough times, like with a lot of captains, but the overriding
impression that tends to stay is that World Cup. Im not here to justify anything. I recognise that I
always knew that was going to happen. Thats the way it is.
Was captaincy something you were actually looking forward to doing?
I was vice-captain for a long time and I was part of the process, so yes, I knew that if there was an
injury or something happened, I would be the next guy in charge. Youre part of the management and
decision-making process, youre contributing, youre ticking all the time, so you know you have to
be ready. I also knew that me and Sourav were also of the same age and it might not happen. When it
did happen, I was extremely keen and excited about trying to do a good job of it.
Did the Chappell drama weigh you down as a captain? When you look at it now, should you have
done something differently? Maybe behaved out of personality and been confrontational with
him? Or did you believe you and Chappell were on the same page but the environment soured
very quickly?
I think when you look back at any stage of your career, there are things you could have done
differently, and that captaincy period is no different. In terms of intention, of what we were trying to
achieve, I have no doubt in my mind that you know it was on the right path. Sure, we made mistakes,
sure, there were things that we did right, and maybe some of the results didnt show up right away,
they did show up later on, but thats just the way it is.
Ill be the first one to admit and my whole career is based on looking to improve and trying to do
better that there were times when I could have done things differently, in the way that I approached it
and handled it. Being probably a little less intense. Maybe it came to me that I was so keen to do a
good job that I got too caught up in it. I got too tense, too anxious or too keen about it in some ways.
Do you think that captains can actually lose teams, and that at one point you lost the team?
Maybe it is. I dont know if you lose the team. You can lose players in your team and you have to try
to fight and get them back sometimes. Or sometimes its phases that players are themselves going
through in their own careers that push them away from the team. Then there are times when you are
making tough decisions about doing certain things that not everybody in the team likes. Then you
need results to go your way. At a time like that, if results dont go your way then sometimes it
becomes easy for people in and around the system to, I guess, pull in different directions. Eventually
it does become about results. Its not all about results but results are incredibly important. And I think,
especially as weve seen in India, results in big tournaments.
Why did you stand down from the captaincy after the England tour in 2007 that had gone well?
Maybe I just lost the enjoyment of the job. I got a certain joy out of captaincy, and maybe there was a
period on that England trip where I just lost the joy of the job. Id been playing and captaining nonstop for three years and I also had a young family. I lost a certain enjoyment, and I generally felt that
the captain of India should be someone who is extremely eager and excited and wakes up every

morning wanting to captain the team. Maybe in that time there were days that I didnt feel like that.
When you retired, you called your team-mates and spoke to them before making the
announcement. When you quit the captaincy, you just vanished. What was that about?
When I look at it in hindsight, I could have handled it better. I didnt want to make a fuss about it at that
stage, and I think a lot of people got upset with me more about how I handled it rather than the
decision in itself. So you learn from that, you learn from the mistakes.
What is your response to the impact of T20 cricket on Indian cricket?
The reality is that when I grew up, playing Test cricket was the ultimate. It mattered professionally,
also in terms of making a living from this game, which does become important at some point. You
had to play Test cricket consistently for a long time to do that. But now you dont need to play Test
cricket. The advent of T20 and the IPL has meant that it is possible to make an extremely good living
from the game without having to play Test cricket. In the past you had only the cream at the top who
were making a good living, but now it has spread a lot more and you have a lot more people who
make a very good living. It is one of the great positives of T20 and the IPL.
But there is obviously the danger that players might sell themselves short. If they face stumbles or
hurdles early in their Test career or in first-class cricket, there might be a few who may choose to
stick to T20 because they are better at it and they are making better money from it and they dont want
to risk losing that.
India will face this challenge a lot more because a lot more Indian players play in the IPL. So how
we address that challenge and go out and make people and players value Test cricket that will come
down to scheduling. We have to schedule more Test matches per year. It will come down to
compensation. Youve got to compensate Test cricketers adequately now. Itll come down to
marketing how you market Test cricket, glorify its history. Itll come down to coaches at junior
levels, how they talk to their wards, how they inspire them about Test cricket. Itll be about stories,
itll be about media. Everyone will have to play their part.
There have been some good examples recently of people who have been good players in T20 and
have come out and done well in Test cricket. Its a good thing for kids to see that you can succeed in
all three forms of the game. Thats important. I have no doubt that a lot of the kids playing today in
the one-day and Test sides have grown up having Test cricketers to admire. But its kids who are my
childrens age or a little older, who are now getting interested in the game for the first time and are
seeing the IPL, its those kinds of children that we need to educate and talk to about Test cricket.
The responsibility lies with the ICC and the boards to schedule enough Test matches. They might
have to make a few sacrifices in terms of money. I have no doubt that if you play enough Test
matches, kids will want to play it. People might not come to the grounds that easily, and thats why its
important to explore other avenues whether it is day-night cricket, the venues where we play it, and
the context of Test matches. We have to accept that people dont have the time, but there is still huge
interest for Test cricket. People follow Test cricket, whether its on television or the internet, in India
as much as elsewhere.
In the last few years, in as much as there have been fears, the number of the articles that get written
about Test cricket, the number of people who follow it passionately, who talk to me about Test cricket
that hasnt changed.
In this T20 age, how must India handle the passing of a great generation of its Test players?

How can the transition be made smooth?

At some stage there is going to be a whole new generation of players. I know there are always links
between one generation of players and the others; there is always a middle level of management
players who have been around and are still going to be around for a few years. Two or three guys
might retire in the next couple of years, who knows? But after that there are going to be guys who are
going to be around, and the responsibility is going to lie on these guys to step it up. Guys like
Sehwag, Gambhir, Harbhajan, Zaheer, Dhoni himself. Not only as players but also as spokesmen. As
people who decide the culture of the team, the way the team is run, the image they want to project of
the team, regarding which form of the game is important to this team. It will be a group of players,
who, I think, are already seniors, who will set the tone for the next generation coming through.
That cycle goes on, that cycle will go on. Its got to move on from being the team that was led by
my generation, which is already happening slowly, and will continue to do so over the next few years.
Im not saying the seniors need to be replaced. They will be the sounding boards. But the direction
and the culture of the team over the next ten years will have to be decided by this capable group of
young players.
Virat Kohli is now seen as the leader of the younger generation. Do you see him as your
successor in the No. 3 slot?
Hes got the talent that was obvious from the time he was an Under-19 kid. He didnt have a really
good first year at the Royal Challengers Bangalore, but you could see that there was talent. Thats not
going to change. Hes got the talent to succeed at this level and its great to see the evolution of this
kid, from what we saw at 19 to what hes becoming now. His consistency of performance and his
ability to play in different conditions and score runs in different conditions thats great.
And hes got to keep doing that. As with any career and anything that you play for a long time,
questions are going to be asked of him. On the technical front, on the physical front, on the mental
front. On how he deals with failure, with success, with all that happens around him in Indian cricket.
Questions are going to be asked about him, and how he comes up with solutions or answers is going
to decide how long or how successful a career he is going to have.
Indian cricket can hope that someone like Virat, who has seemingly made that transition from a
precocious talent to a performer at the international level, is able to have a long and successful career.
The strength of your team is finally built around people who can have long and successful careers.
You can then build a team around him and some of the other young guys.
Do you worry about where Indian cricket is at the moment that it is going to be a very good,
competitive team in ODI cricket rather than a successful Test team? Or that all of this depends
on ensuring that your fast bowlers conveyor belt doesnt go around so quickly?
I wouldnt say Im worried. I would say there are challenges that Indian cricket faces today. Some of
these are challenges that have always been there in the history of our game whether it is finding
good quality fast-bowling allrounders or finding opening batsmen or finding real fast bowlers. These
challenges have to be addressed, and its no point worrying. There are lots of positives about Indian
cricket.
Its going to be a whole new level of thinking, a whole new level of leadership, of thought, that is
required. Like I said, of how the team is going to project itself. You cant just let things flow. If we just
let things happen, they will happen. You might get lucky, you might suddenly find a brilliant player or
a brilliant fast-bowling allrounder from somewhere, but there needs to be serious thought put into the

way the team is, what is the way forward, and how we want to see the Indian team, not today but ten
years ahead.
When we got together as a group of guys in 2000, it was important for me how the team was
projected. We were going through a rough patch, we had come out of this match-fixing thing. We
were always known as poor travellers. It was said we were scared of fast bowling, we were arrogant,
rude, or that because of match-fixing you cant trust anyone. These were the things that you wanted to
change. Ten years later, now there is another challenge. Each team has its own image; thats what you
want to change. Maybe this team now has the image where its said they are very good one-day
players, they are not that good as Test players. You keep hearing talk about what impact the IPL might
have, how everyone will only want to play IPL, and how it might affect our Test cricket. Hopefully
these guys will go on to challenge that notion, to show us that it is not the case.
Sharda Ugra is a senior editor at ESPNcricinfo, where this interview was first published on March 29, 2012

[ 28 ]

Everything that has given cricket its power has started from the fan
RAHUL DRAVID
In December 2011, Rahul Dravid was invited to deliver the Bradman Oration in Canberra during
Indias tour to Australia. His speech was wide-ranging, meticulous and memorable, touching on
issues from striking a balance between the three formats, to measures against corruption in cricket.
hank you for inviting me to deliver the Bradman Oration. The respect and the regard that came
T
with the invitation to speak tonight are deeply appreciated.
I realise a very distinguished list of gentlemen have preceded me in the ten years that the Bradman
Oration has been held. I know that this Oration is held every year to appreciate the life and career of
Sir Don Bradman, a great Australian and a great cricketer. I understand that I am supposed to speak
about cricket and issues in the game and I will.
Yet first, before all else, I must say that I find myself humbled by the venue we find ourselves in.
Even though there is neither a pitch in sight, nor stumps or bat and balls, as a cricketer I feel I stand
on very sacred ground tonight. When I was told that I would be speaking at the National War
Memorial I thought of how often and how meaninglessly the words war, battle, fight are used
to describe cricket matches.
Yes, we cricketers devote the better part of our adult lives to being prepared to perform for our
countries, to persist and compete as intensely as we can and more. This building, however,
recognises the men and women who lived out the words war, battle, fight for real and then gave it
all up for their country, their lives left incomplete, futures extinguished.
The people of both our countries are often told that cricket is the one thing that brings Indians and
Australians together. That cricket is our single common denominator. Indias first Test series as a free
country was played against Australia, in November 1947, three months after our independence. Yet
the histories of our countries are linked together far more deeply than we think, and further back in
time than 1947.
We share something else other than cricket. Before they played the first Test match against each
other, Indians and Australians fought wars together, on the same side. In Gallipoli, where, along with
thousands of Australians, over 1300 Indians also lost their lives. In World War II, there were Indian
and Australian soldiers in El Alamein, North Africa, in the Syria-Lebanon campaign, in Burma, in the
battle for Singapore. Before we were competitors, Indians and Australians were comrades. So it is
only appropriate that we are here this evening at the Australian War Memorial, where along with
celebrating cricket and cricketers, we remember the unknown soldiers of both nations.
It is, however, incongruous that I, an Indian, happen to be the first cricketer from outside Australia
invited to deliver the Bradman Oration. I dont say that only because Sir Don once scored a hundred
before lunch at Lords and my hundred at Lords this year took almost an entire day.
But seriously, Sir Don played just five Tests against India; that was in the first India-Australia series
in 1947-48, which was to be his last season at home. He didnt even play in India, and remains the
most venerated cricketer in India not to have played there. We know that he set foot in India, though,

in May 1953, when on his way to England to report on the Ashes for an English newspaper, his plane
stopped in Calcutta airport. There were said to be close to a thousand people waiting to greet him. As
you know, he was a very private person, and so he got into an army jeep and rushed into a barricaded
building, annoyed with the airline for having breached confidentiality. That was all Indians of the
time saw of Bradman, who remains a mythical figure.
For one generation of fans in my country, those who grew up in the 1930s, when India was still
under British rule, Bradman represented a cricketing excellence that belonged to somewhere outside
England. To a country taking its first steps in Test cricket that meant something. His success against
England at that time was thought of as our personal success. He was striking one for all of us ruled by
the common enemy. Or as your country has so poetically called them, the Poms.
There are two stories that I thought I should bring to your notice. June 28, 1930, the day Bradman
scored 254 at Lords against England, was also the day Jawaharlal Nehru was arrested by the police.
Nehru was, at the time, one of the most prominent leaders of the Indian independence movement, and
later, independent Indias first prime minister. The coincidence of the two events was noted by a
young boy, KN Prabhu, who was both nationalist and cricket fan and later became independent Indias
foremost cricket writer. In the 30s, as Nehru went in and out of jail, Bradman went after the England
bowling, and for KN Prabhu he became a kind of avenging angel.
Theres another story Ive heard, about the day in 1933 when the news reached India that Bradmans
record for the highest Test score of 334 had been broken by Wally Hammond. As much as we love
our records, they say some Indian fans at the time were not exactly happy. Now, theres a tale that a
few even wanted to wear black bands to mourn the fact that this precious record that belonged to
Australia and by extension, us had gone back. To an Englishman. We will never know if this is
true, if black bands were ever worn, but as journalists sometimes tell me, why let facts get in the way
of a good story.
My own link with Bradman was much like that of most other Indians through history books, some
old video footage and his wise words. About leaving the game better than you found it. About playing
it positively, as Bradman, then a selector, told Richie Benaud before the 1960-61 West Indies tour of
Australia. Of sending the right message out from cricket to its public. Of players being temporary
trustees of a great game.
While there may be very little similarity in our records or our strike rates or our fielding and I
can say this only today, in front of all of you I am actually pleased that I share something very
important with Sir Don.
He was, primarily, like me, a No. 3 batsman.
It is a tough, tough job. Were the ones who make life easier for the kings of batting, the middle
order that follows us. Bradman did that with a bit more success and style than I did. He dominated
bowling attacks and put bums on seats; if I bat for any length of time I am more likely to bore people
to sleep. Still, it is nice to have batted for a long time in a position whose benchmark is, in fact, the
benchmark for batsmanship itself.
Before he retired from public life in his 80s, I do know that Bradman watched Sunil Gavaskar s
generation play a series in Australia. I remember the excitement that went through Indian cricket when
we heard the news that Bradman had seen Sachin Tendulkar bat on TV and thought he batted like him.
It was more than mere approval, it was as if the great Don had finally passed on his torch. Not to an

Aussie or an Englishman or a West Indian. But to one of our own.

One of the things Bradman said has stayed in my mind. That the finest of athletes had, along with
skill, a few more essential qualities: the ability to conduct their life with dignity, with integrity, with
courage and modesty. All this, he believed, was totally compatible with pride, ambition, determination
and competitiveness. Maybe those words should be put up in cricket dressing rooms all over the
world.
As all of you know, Don Bradman passed away on February 25, 2001, two days before the India v
Australia series was to begin in Mumbai. Whenever an important figure in cricket leaves us, crickets
global community pauses in the midst of contests and debates to remember what he represented, what
he stood for, and Bradman was the pinnacle. The standard against which all Test batsmen must take
guard.
The series that followed two days after Bradmans death later went on to become what many believe
was one of the greatest in cricket. It is a series, Id like to believe, he would have enjoyed following. A
fierce contest between bat and ball went down to the final session of the final day of the final Test.
Between an Australian team that had risen to their most imposing powers and a young Indian team
determined to rewrite some chapters of its own history.
The 2001 series contained high-quality cricket from both sides and had a deep impact on the
careers of those who played a part in it. The Australians were near unbeatable in the first half of the
new decade, both home and away. As others floundered against them, India became the only team that
competed with them on even terms.
India kept answering questions put to them by the Australians and asking a few themselves. The
quality demanded of those contests, sometimes acrimonious, sometimes uplifting, made us, the Indian
team, grow and rise. As individuals, we were asked to play to the absolute outer limits of our
capabilities, and we often extended them.
When we toured in 2007-08, I thought it was going to be my last tour of Australia. The Australians
thought it was going to be the last time they would be seeing Sachin Tendulkar on their shores. He
received warm standing ovations from wonderful crowds all around the country. Well, like a few
creaking Terminators, were back. Older, wiser and, I hope, improved.
If both teams look back to their 2007-08 series in Australia, they will know that they should have
done things a little differently in the Sydney Test. But I think both sides have moved on from there;
weve played each other twice in India already and relations between the two teams are much better
than they have been as far as I can remember.
Thanks to the IPL, Indians and Australians have even shared dressing rooms. Shane Watsons
involvement in Rajasthan, Mike Husseys role with Chennai, to mention a few, are greatly appreciated
back home. And even Shane Warne likes India now. I really enjoyed playing alongside him at
Rajasthan last season and can confidently report to you that he is not eating imported baked beans
anymore. In fact, looking at him, it seems he is not eating anything.
It is often said that cricketers are ambassadors for their country; when theres a match to be won,
sometimes we think that is an unreasonable demand. After all, what would career diplomats do if the
result of a Test series depended on them, say, walking? But as ties between India and Australia have
strengthened and our contests have become more frequent, we realise that as Indian players we stand
for a vast, varied, often unfathomable and endlessly fascinating country.

At the moment, to much of the outside world, Indian cricket represents only two things money
and power. Yes, that aspect of Indian cricket is a part of the whole, but it is not the complete picture.
As a player, as a proud and privileged member of the Indian cricket team, I want to say that this onedimensional, often clichd, image, relentlessly repeated, is not what Indian cricket is really all about.
I cannot take all of you into the towns and villages our players come from and introduce you to
their families, teachers, coaches, mentors and team-mates who made them international cricketers. I
cannot take all of you here to India to show you the belief, struggle, effort and sacrifice from
hundreds of people that runs through our game.
As I stand here today, it is important for me to bring Indian cricket and its own remarkable story to
you. I believe it is very necessary that cricketing nations try to find out about each other, try to
understand each other and the different role cricket plays in different countries, because ours is,
eventually, a very small world.
In India, cricket is a buzzing, humming, living entity going through a most remarkable time, like
no other in our cricketing history. In this last decade, the Indian team represents, more than ever
before, the country we come from of people from vastly different cultures, who speak different
languages, follow different religions, belong to all classes of society. I went around our dressing
room to work out how many languages could be spoken in there and the number I have arrived at is:
15, including Shona and Afrikaans.
Most foreign captains, I think, would baulk at the idea. But when I led India, I enjoyed it. I marvelled
at the range of difference and the ability of people from so many different backgrounds to share a
dressing room, to accept, accommodate and respect that difference. In a world growing more insular,
that is a precious quality to acquire, because it stays for life and helps you understand people better,
understand the significance of the other.
Let me tell you one of my favourite stories from my Under-19 days, when the India U-19 team
played a match against the New Zealand junior team. We had two bowlers in the team, one from the
north Indian state of Uttar Pradesh he spoke only Hindi, which is usually a link language for players
from all over India, ahead even of English. It should have been all right, except the other bowler came
from Kerala, in the deep south, and he spoke only the states regional language, Malayalam. Now
even that should have been okay as they were both bowlers and wouldnt really need to talk to each
other much on the field.
Yet in one game they happened to come together at the crease. In the dressing room we were in
splits, wondering how they were going to manage the business of a partnership, calling for runs or
sharing the strike. Neither man could understand a word of what the other was saying, and they were
batting together. This could only happen in Indian cricket. Except that these two guys came up with a
100-run partnership. Their common language was cricket and that worked out just fine.
The everyday richness of Indian cricket lies right there, not in the news you hear about milliondollar deals and television rights. When I look back over the 25 years Ive spent in cricket, I realise
two things. First, rather alarmingly, that I am the oldest man in the team, older to even Sachin, by
three months. More importantly, I realise that Indian cricket actually reflects our countrys own
growth story during this time. Cricket is so much a part of our national fabric that as India its
economy, society and popular culture transformed itself, so did our most-loved sport.
As players we are appreciative beneficiaries of the financial strength of Indian cricket, but we are

more than just mascots of that economic power. The caricature often made of Indian cricket and its
cricketers in the rest of the world is that we are pampered superstars overpaid, underworked, treated
like a cross between royalty and rock stars. Yes, the Indian team has an enormous emotional
following, and we do need security when we go around the country as a group. It is also why we make
it a point to always try to conduct ourselves with composure and dignity. On tour, I must point out, we
dont attack fans or do drugs or get into drunken theatrics. And at home, despite what some of you
may have heard, we dont live in mansions with swimming pools.
The news about the money may well overpower all else, but along with it, our cricket is full of
stories the outside world does not see. Television rights generated around Indian cricket are much
talked about. Let me tell you what television has done to our game.
A sport that was largely played and patronised by princes and businessmen in traditional urban
centres cities like Bombay, Bangalore, Chennai, Baroda, Hyderabad, Delhi has begun to pull in
cricketers from everywhere.
As the earnings from Indian cricket have grown in the past two decades, mainly through television,
the BCCI has spread revenues to various pockets in the country and improved where we play. The
field is now spread wider than it ever has been, the ground covered by Indian cricket has shifted.
Twenty-seven teams compete in our national championship, the Ranji Trophy. Last season
Rajasthan, a state best known for its palaces, fortresses and tourism, won the Ranji Trophy title for the
first time in its history. The national one-day championship also had a first-time winner in the newly
formed state of Jharkhand, where our captain, MS Dhoni, comes from.
The growth and scale of cricket on our televisions was the engine of this population shift. Like
Bradman was the boy from Bowral, a stream of Indian cricketers now comes from what you could
call Indias outback. Zaheer Khan belongs to the Maharashtra heartland, from a town that didnt have
even one proper turf wicket. He could have been an instrumentation engineer but was drawn to cricket
by TV, and modelled his bowling by practising in front of the mirror on his cupboard at home. He
first bowled with a proper cricket ball at the age of 17.
One day, out of nowhere, a boy from a village in Gujarat turned up as Indias fastest bowler. After
Munaf Patel made his debut for India, the road from the nearest railway station to his village had to be
improved because journalists and TV crews from the cities kept landing up there.
We are delighted that Umesh Yadav didnt become a policeman, like he was planning, and turned to
cricket instead. He is the first cricketer from the central Indian first-class team of Vidarbha to play
Test cricket.
Virender Sehwag, it shouldnt surprise you, belongs to the wild west just outside Delhi. He had to
be enrolled in a college which had a good cricket programme and travelled 84km every day by bus to
get to practice and matches.
Every player in this room wearing an India blazer has a story like this. Here, ladies and gentlemen,
is the heart and soul of Indian cricket.
Playing for India completely changes our lives. The game has given us a chance to pay back our
debt to all those who gave their time, energy and resources for us to be better cricketers: we can build
new homes for our parents, get our siblings married off in style, give our families very comfortable
lives.

The Indian cricket team is, in fact, India itself in microcosm. A sport that was played first by
princes, then their subordinates, then the urban elite, is now played by all of India. Cricket, as my two
U-19 team-mates proved, is Indias most widely spoken language. Even Indian cinema has its regional
favourites; a movie star in the south may not be popular in the north. But a cricketer? Loved
everywhere.
It is also a very tough environment to grow up in criticism can be severe, responses to victory
and defeat extreme. There are invasions of privacy and stones have been thrown at our homes after
some defeats. It takes time getting used to extreme reactions can fill us with anger. But every
cricketer realises at some stage of his career that the Indian cricket fan is best understood by
remembering the sentiment of the majority, not the actions of a minority.
One of the things that has always lifted me as a player is looking out of the team bus when we travel
somewhere in India. When people see the Indian bus going by, see some of us sitting with our curtains
drawn back, it always amazes me how much they light up. There is an instantaneous smile, directed
not just at the player they see but at the game we play, that, for whatever reason, means something to
peoples lives. Win or lose, the man on the street will smile and give you a wave.
After India won the World Cup this year, our players were not congratulated as much as they were
thanked by people they ran into. You have given us everything, they were told, all of us have won.
Cricket in India now stands not just for sport but possibility, hope, opportunities.
On our way to the Indian team, we know of so many of our team-mates, some of whom may have
been equally or more talented than those sitting here, who missed out. When I started out, for a young
Indian, cricket was the ultimate gamble all or nothing, no safety nets. No second chances for those
without an education or a college degree, or second careers. Indian crickets wealth now means a
wider pool of well-paid cricketers, even at first-class level.
For those of us who make it to the Indian team, cricket is not merely our livelihood, it is a gift we
have been given. Without the game, we would just be average people leading average lives. As Indian
cricketers, our sport has given us the chance to do something worthwhile with our lives. How many
people could say that?
This is the time Indian cricket should be flowering. We are the world champions in the short game,
and over the space of the next 12 months should be involved in a tight contest with Australia, South
Africa and England to determine which of us is the worlds strongest Test team. Yet I believe this is
also a time for introspection within our game, not only in India but all over the world. We have been
given some alerts, and responding to them quickly is the smart thing to do.
I was surprised a few months ago to see the lack of crowds in an ODI series featuring India. By that
I dont mean the lack of full houses. I think it was the sight of empty stands I found somewhat
alarming.
India played their first one-day international at home in November 1981, when I was nine. Between
then and now India have played 227 ODIs at home; the October five-match series against England was
the first time that the grounds have not been full for an ODI series featuring the Indian team.
In the summer of 1998 I played in a one-dayer against Kenya in Kolkata and the Eden Gardens was
full. Our next game was held in the 48-degree heat of Gwalior and the stands were heaving.
The October series against England was the first one at home after Indias World Cup win. It was
called the revenge series, meant to wipe away the memory of a forgettable tour of England. India

kept winning every game and yet the stands did not fill up. Five days after a 5-0 victory 95,000 turned
up to watch Indias first Formula 1 race.
A few weeks later I played in a Test match against West Indies in Kolkata, in front of what was the
lowest turnout in Eden Gardens history. Yes we still wanted to win and our intensity did not dip, but at
the end of the day we are performers, entertainers, and we love an audience. The audience amplifies
everything you are doing: the bigger the crowd, the bigger the occasion, its magnitude, its emotion.
When I think about the Eden Gardens crowds this year, I wonder what the famous Calcutta Test of
2001 would have felt like with 50,000 people less watching us.
Australia and South Africa played an exciting and thrilling Test series recently, and two great Test
matches produced some fantastic performances from players of both teams, but the matches were
sadly played in front of sparse crowds.
It is not the numbers that Test players need, it is the atmosphere of a Test that every player wants to
revel in and draw energy from. My first reaction to the lack of crowds for cricket was that there had
been a lot of cricket and so perhaps a certain amount of spectator fatigue. That is too simplistic a
view; its the easy thing to say, and it might not be the only thing.
The India v England ODI series had no context, because the two countries had played each other in
four Tests and five ODIs just a few weeks before. When India and West Indies played ODIs a month
after that, the grounds were full, but this time the matches were played in smaller venues that didnt
host too much international cricket. Maybe our clues are all there and we must remain vigilant.
Unlike in Australia or England, Indian cricket has never had to compete with other sports for a
share of revenues, mind space or crowd attendance at international matches. The lack of crowds may
not directly impact revenues or how important the sport is to Indians, but we do need to accept that
there has definitely been a change in temperature over, I think, the last two years.
Whatever the reasons are maybe it is too much cricket or too little by way of comfort for
spectators the fan has sent us a message and we must listen. This is not mere sentimentality. Empty
stands do not make for good television. Bad television can lead to a fall in ratings. The fall in ratings
will be felt by media planners and advertisers looking elsewhere. If that happens, it is hard to see
television rights around cricket being as sought-after as they have been in the last 15 years. And
where does that leave everyone? Im not trying to be an economist or doomsday prophet this is just
how I see it.
Let us not be so satisfied with the present, with deals and finances in hand, that we get blindsided.
Everything that has given cricket its power and influence in the world of sports has started from that
fan in the stadium. They deserve our respect and let us not take them for granted. Disrespecting fans is
disrespecting the game. The fans have stood by our game through everything. When we play, we need
to think of them. As players, the balance between competitiveness and fairness can be tough but it
must be found.
If we stand up for the games basic decencies, it will be far easier to tackle the bigger dangers
whether it is finding shortcuts to easy money or being lured by the scourge of spot-fixing and
contemplating any involvement with the betting industry.
Crickets financial success means it will face threats from outside the game and keep facing them.
The last two decades have proved this over and over again. The internet and modern technology may
just end up being a step ahead of every anti-corruption regulation in place in the game. As players, the

one way we can stay ahead is if we are willing to be monitored and regulated closely.
Even if it means giving up a little bit of freedom of movement and privacy. If it means undergoing
dope tests, let us never say no. If it means undergoing lie-detector tests, let us understand the
technology, what purpose it serves, and accept it. Now lie detectors are by no means perfect but they
could actually help the innocent clear their names. Similarly, we should not object to having our
finances scrutinised, if that is what is required.
When the first anti-corruption measures were put into place, we did moan a little bit about being
accredited and depositing our cell phones with the manager. But now we must treat it like we do
airport security, because we know it is for our own good and our own security. Players should be
ready to give up a little personal space and personal comfort for this game which has given us so
much. If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear. Other sports have borrowed from
crickets anti-corruption measures to set up their own ethical governance programmes, and we must
take pride in belonging to a sport that is professional and progressive.
One of the biggest challenges that the game must respond to today, I believe, is charting out a clear
road map for the three formats. We now realise that the sports three formats cannot be played in
equal numbers that will only throw scheduling and the true development of players completely off
gear.
There is a place for all three formats, though we are the only sport I can think of which has three
versions. Cricket must treasure this originality. These three versions require different skills; skills
that have evolved, grown, changed over the last four decades, one impacting on the other.
Test cricket is the gold standard. It is the form the players want to play. The 50-over game is the one
that has kept crickets revenues alive for more than three decades now. T20 has come upon us and it is
the format people, the fans, want to see.
Cricket must find a middle path, it must scale down this mad merry-go-round that teams and players
find themselves in: heading off for two-Test tours and seven-match ODI series with a few T20s
thrown in.
Test cricket deserves to be protected, it is what the worlds best know they will be judged by. Where
I come from, nation versus nation is what got people interested in cricket in the first place. When I
hear the news that a country is playing without some of its best players, I always wonder: what do
their fans think?
People may not be able to turn up to watch Test cricket, but everyone follows the scores. We may
not fill 65,000 capacity stadiums for Test matches, but we must actively fight to get as many as we can
in, to create a Test match environment that the players and the fans feed off. Anything but the sight of
Tests played on empty grounds. For that, we have got to play Test cricket that people can watch.
I dont think day-night Tests or a Test championship should be dismissed. In March of last year I
played a day-night first-class game in Abu Dhabi for the MCC, and my experience from that was that
day-night Test cricket is an idea seriously worth exploring. There may be some challenges in places
where there is dew, but the visibility and durability of the pink cricket ball was not an issue.
Similarly a Test championship, with every team and player driving themselves to be winners of a
sought-after title, seems like it would have a context to every game.
Keeping Tests alive may mean different innovations in different countries maybe taking it to

smaller cities, playing it in grounds with smaller capacities, like New Zealand has thought of doing,
maybe reviving some old venues in the West Indies, like the old Recreation Ground in Antigua.
When I was around seven years old, I remember my father taking a Friday off so that we could
watch three days of Test cricket together. On occasions he couldnt, I would accompany one of his
friends, just to soak in a day of Test cricket and watch the drama slowly unfold.
What we have to do is find a way to ensure that Test matches fit into 21 -century life, through
timing, environments and the venues they are held in. I am still convinced it can be done, even in our
fast-moving world with its short attention spans. We will often get told that Test matches dont make
financial sense, but no one ever fell in love with Test cricket because they wanted to be a businessman.
Not everything of value comes at a price.
st

There is a proposal doing the rounds about scrapping the 50-over game completely. I am not sure I
agree with that. I certainly know that the 50-over game helped us innovate strokes in our batting which
we were then able to take into Test matches. We all know that the 50-over game has been responsible
for improving fielding standards all over the world.
The future may well lie in playing one-day internationals centred around ICC events, like the
Champions Trophy and the World Cups. This would ensure that all 50-over matches would build up
for those tournaments. That will cut back the number of one-day internationals played every year, but
at least those matches will have context. Since, I think, 1995, people have been saying that there is too
much meaningless one-day cricket. Maybe its finally time to do something about it.
The T20 game, as we know, has as many critics as it has supporters in the public. Given that an
acceptable strike rate in T20 these days is about 120, I should probably complain about it the most!
The crowd and revenue numbers, though, tell us that if we dont handle T20 correctly, we may well
have more and more private players stepping in to offer not just slices of pie but maybe even bigger
pies themselves.
So Ill reiterate what Ive just said very quickly because balancing the three formats is important:
We have Test cricket, like we have always had, nation versus nation, but carefully scheduled to
attract crowds and planned fairly so that every Test-playing country gets its fair share of Tests. And
playing for a championship or a cup, not just a ranking.
The 50-overs format focused around fewer, significant multi-nation ICC events like the Champions
Trophy and the World Cup. In the four-year cycle between World Cups, plan the ODI calendar and
devise rankings around these few important events. Anything makes more sense than seven-match
ODI series.
The best role for T20 is as a domestic competition through official leagues, which will make it
financially attractive for cricketers. That could also keep cricket viable in countries where it fights for
space and attention.
Because the game is bigger than us all, we must think way ahead of how it stands today. Where do
we want it to be in the year 2020? Or, say, in 2027, when it will be 150 years since the first Test match
was played? If you think about it, cricket has been with us longer than the modern motor car. It existed
before modern air travel took off. As much as crickets revenues are important to its growth, its
traditions and its vibrancy are a necessary part of its progress in the future. We shouldnt let either go
because we played too much of one format and too little of the other.

Professionalism has given cricketers of my generation privileged lives, and we know it, even
though you may often hear us whining about burnout, travel, and the lack of recovery time. Whenever
we begin to get into that mindset, its good to remember a piece of Sachins conversation with
Bradman. Sachin told us that he had asked Sir Don how he had mentally prepared for big games, what
his routines were. Sir Don said that well before a game he would go to work, and after the game go
back to work. Whenever a cricketer feels a whinge coming on, that would be good to remember.
Before I conclude, I also want to talk briefly about an experience I have often had over the course
of my career. It is not to do with individuals or incidents but is one I believe is important to share. I
have sometimes found myself in the middle of a big game, standing at slip or even at the non-striker s
end, and suddenly realised that everything else has vanished. At that moment, all that exists is the
contest and the very real sense of the joy that comes from playing the game.
It is an almost meditative experience, where you reconnect with the game just like you did years
ago, when you first began, when you hit your first boundary, took your first catch, scored your first
century, or were involved in a big victory. It lasts for a very fleeting passage of time, but it is a very
precious instant, and every cricketer should hang on to it.
I know it is utterly fanciful to expect professional cricketers to play the game like amateurs, but the
trick, I believe, is taking the spirit of the amateur of discovery, of learning, of pure joy, of playing
by the rules into our profession. Taking it to practice or play, even when theres an epidemic of
white-line fever breaking out all over the field.
In every cricketer there lies a competitor who hates losing, and yes, winning matters. But it is not
the only thing that matters when you play cricket. How it is played is as important for every member
of every team, because every game we play leaves a footprint in crickets history. We must never
forget that.
What we do as professionals is easily carried over into the amateur game, in every way batting,
bowling, fielding, appealing, celebration, dissent, argument. In the players of 2027 we will see a
reflection of this time and of ourselves, and it had better not annoy or anguish us 50-year-olds.
As the games custodians, it is important we are not tempted by the short-term gains of the
backward step. We can be remembered for being the generation that could take the giant stride.

The numbers

When Dravid was at the crease, the team scored 32,039 runs, which amounted to 35.6% of the total runs that India made in
the Tests in which Dravid played. Dravid is also the only batsman to be involved in more than 700 partnerships; in fact, no
other batsman has touched 650 so far.

[ 29 ]

The man they couldnt move

S RAJESH

he stat that perhaps best sums up Rahul Dravid is not the number of runs or hundreds he made but
T
the number of balls he consumed 46,563, over a career that spanned fifteen and a half years.
In 286 Test innings, Dravid played 31,258 balls. Given that no other batsman has faced more than
29,000 deliveries in that format, it puts into perspective the sheer effort that went into scoring the
13,288 runs he did in Tests. There were other batsmen who had more natural talent, or were more
elegant, aggressive, and exciting to watch. In terms of dedication to craft and working on achieving
perfection, though, Dravid ranks second to none. That dedication fetched him just rewards, ensuring
he scored runs in every country he played in, and finished his Test career as the second-highest rungetter, next only to Sachin Tendulkar.
And then there was Dravid the one-day player. For someone whose playing style was thought to be
suited only to Test cricket, finishing eighth on the list of most ODIs played, and with the seventhhighest run aggregate, is no mean achievement. Dravid never had the attacking ability of a Tendulkar
or a Brian Lara, but its a testament to his adaptability that he played 344 ODIs, scored 10, 889 runs,
and struck 12 centuries and 83 fifties, including one off 22 balls, which remains the second-fastest by
an Indian.
Apart from all that, he kept wicket in 73 ODIs, and yet never allowed that to adversely affect his
batting in fact, his batting stats improved when he kept wicket. He also led India in 79 matches, and
achieved the second-best win-loss record among Indians who captained in at least 50 ODIs. For any
cricketer this is a staggering resume; for one considered only a Test specialist, it borders on the
unbelievable.
Dravid in Tests
From the time he scored 95 in his first Test innings, against England at Lords, it was clear he was an
exceptional batting talent, but even so, not many would have envisaged a career that spanned 164 Test
matches. His maiden Test century, a sparkling 148 against a tough South African attack in
Johannesburg, further confirmed his class, and from there it was a journey of several highs,
interspersed with its share of lows.
For most of his career, consistency was one of Dravids fortes. For instance, in the first ten series
that he played (excluding one-off Tests), he averaged more than 40 in seven. His best phase, though,
was the four-year period from the middle of 2002 to 2006, when he scored heavily pretty much
everywhere he went: in 16 series during this time, he averaged more than 49 in 13, and nine times
over 75. More importantly, he scored those runs in tough batting conditions, and in overseas Tests
that led to wins abroad, a phenomenon that till then had been pretty rare in Indian cricket. During this
period his overseas average was an exceptional 77.07.
A slump followed, almost inevitably, from the middle of 2006 to 2008, when he struggled in South

Africa, England, Australia and Sri Lanka. There was talk, inevitably again, that Dravid should quit
Tests, but in his last three years he came out of that trough pretty well. He was among the runs in New
Zealand, West Indies, and in what must rank as arguably his best series, given the lack of batting
support in England in 2011, when he fought the home teams pace attack almost single-handed,
scoring 461 runs at 76.83. His last series, in Australia, was admittedly a huge disappointment, but
despite that he averaged more than 52 in his last 33 Tests.
Rahul Dravids Test career
Tes ts

Runs

Average

100s /50s

Home
ave

Away
ave

T ill Mar 31,

2002

55

4329

50.92

9/24

48.91

53.20

Apr 2002-Jul
2006

49

4720

68.40

14/22

55.71

77.07

Aug 2006-Dec
2008

27

1460

31.06

3/7

31.60

30.66

Jan 2009
onwards

33

2779

52.43

10/10

75.31

42.54

Career

164

13,288

52.31

36/63

51.35

53.03

Period

At home overseas
As mentioned above, perhaps the most significant aspect of Dravids Test career was that the runs he
scored contributed significantly to Indias wins, mainly overseas. Overall, Dravid scored 5131 runs in
Test wins, next only to Tendulkar s 5594. However, in overseas Test wins, he was often Indias main
man, even more than Tendulkar. India won 15 Tests abroad during Dravids career (excluding
matches in Bangladesh and Zimbabwe), and in those games he scored 1577 runs at 65.70 both
aggregate and average higher than Tendulkar s.
Quite fittingly, Dravid was Man of the Match in the last overseas Test win that India achieved during
his career his second-innings 112 and match tally of 152 were largely instrumental in India winning
a low-scoring game in Kingston by 63 runs. In all, eight of his 11 Man-of-the-Match awards came in
overseas Tests, and five in overseas wins, including unforgettable performances at Headingley
(2002), Adelaide (2003), Rawalpindi (2004) and Kingston (2006). Tendulkar won only five of his 14
Man-of-the-Match awards overseas, and only one in a win (excluding Tests in Bangladesh). In fact, no
Indian has won as many match awards overseas as Dravid has. (Remember, though, that this award
wasnt always around during the days of some of Indias earlier players.)
As well as helping India win overseas, Dravid also scored mountains of runs in draws overseas,
averaging more than 75 in those matches, with ten centuries in 32 Tests. Two of those hundreds were
in the drawn game in Hamilton in 1999, one of two times he scored a century in each innings of a
Test. In fact, he is one of only three Indians to achieve this feat Sunil Gavaskar and Vijay Hazare are
the others.
Indian batsmen in overseas Tests, in wins and draws
Bats man

Won
Drawn
Runs Average 100s /50s
Runs Average 100s /50s
Tes ts
Tes ts

Rahul Dravid

15

1577

65.70

4/7

32

3083

75.19

10/17

Sachin
Tendulkar

13

1219

60.95

5/3

42

3484

71.10

11/18

VVS Laxman

14

1111

52.90

2/8

26

1931

58.51

4/14

Virender
Sehwag

11

965

56.76

3/1

15

1386

57.75

4/4

Sunil Gavas kar

756

50.40

3/3

30

2697

64.21

9/12

Sourav Ganguly

617

51.41

1/5

21

1601

59.29

5/8

Gundappa
Vis wanath

533

53.30

2/3

19

1040

40.00

2/8

Excluding Tests in Bangladesh and Zimbabwe

No. 1 at No. 3
India didnt always have the luxury of solid opening pairs through Dravids career, which made his
presence at No. 3 all the more important. He is the only batsman at the moment to have scored more
than 10,000 runs at that position, and he did it at a superb average too, scoring close to 53 runs per
dismissal. At No. 3, though, his home record was better he averaged 54.81 in India and 51.35
abroad. In overseas Tests excluding Bangladesh and Zimbabwe, his average at No. 3 fell marginally
below 50, to 48.75.
Highest run-getters at No. 3 in Tests
Bats man

Innings

Runs

Average

100s /50s

Rahul Dravid

219

10, 524

52.88

28/50

Ricky Ponting

196

9904

56.27

32/43

Kumar Sangakkara

160

8716

58.10

27/36

Don Bradman

56

5078

103.63

20/10

Richie Richards on

107

4711

47.11

14/21

Rohan Kanhai

90

4689

52.68

13/20

David Boon

111

4412

45.58

13/20

Ian Chappell

91

4279

50.94

13/22

Dravids stats at No. 3 sorted by the score at which he came in to bat present some interesting
numbers. He averaged only 38 when the first wicket fell with ten runs or fewer on the board, but on
the 18 occasions when the first wicket fell at zero, he averaged 51.94, with three centuries and as
many fifties. In fact, his highest Test score, 270, came when he came out to bat second ball, after
Virender Sehwag had fallen to Shoaib Akhtar off the first ball of the innings, in Rawalpindi. He also
had plenty of success when he came in to bat fairly early, with the score between 11 and 20. The 148 at
Headingley in 2002 came after the first wicket fell for 15, while the 217 that followed in the next Test,
at The Oval, was scored after the first wicket fell at 18.
He obviously also relished coming in to bat after the openers had given the team a solid start. On
the 66 occasions when they added more than 50, Dravid averaged 62.41. Among his key knocks in
such situations was the 233 in Adelaide in 2003 that match-winning effort came after the openers
had added 66.
Dravid at No. 3 by point-of-entry scores
Point of entry

Innings

Runs

Average

100s / 50s

10 or below

66

2322

38.07

4/12

11 to 20

45

2482

60.54

7/9

21 to 50

42

1913

53.14

4/11

51 and above

66

3807

62.41

13/18

And heres a comparison with a couple of other top-class No. 3 batsmen by their point-of-entry
averages. Ricky Ponting and Kumar Sangakkara have better averages when they have come in to bat
with the score at 10 or under, while Don Bradmans stats are predictably beyond compare.
Other No. 3 batsmen by point-of-entry scores
Point of
entry

BradmanRuns / ave

100s /
50s

PontingSangakkara100s / 50s
Runs / ave
Runs / ave

10 or below

1403/127.55

5/1

2359/53.61

9/10

2948/57.80

8/13

11 to 20

524/52.40

2/1

975/46.43

1/8

1370/48.93

3/9

21 to 50

1689/112.60

7/5

3631/69.83

13/10

1953/48.82

5/7

51 and
above

1462/112.46

6/3

2939/49.81

9/15

2445/78.87

11/7

100s / 50s

Staying through partnerships

Dravids ability to spend long periods at the crease meant bowlers had to invariably work hard to get
his wicket. On average, he played 123 balls per dismissal, which works out to 20.3 overs. Since the
year of Dravids debut, the only batsman who has faced 10,000-plus deliveries and has a higher rate
of balls per dismissal is Jacques Kallis, who averages 125.55 balls per dismissal. Theyre the only
two with a balls-per-dismissal figure of more than 120. Further down the table below, Tendulkar and
Kumar Sangakkara have similar numbers: both have higher averages than Dravid, but their higher
scoring rates also mean they dont play as many deliveries per dismissal.
Highest balls per dismissal in Tests since Jan 1996
Bats man

Innings Not outs

Balls
faced

Average

Strike
rate

Balls
per
dis mis s al

Jacques Kallis

256

39

27,139

57.04

45.60

125.06

Rahul Dravid

286

32

31,258

52.31

42.51

123.06

Shivnarine
Chanderpaul

221

33

21,365

48.79

42.93

113.64

T hilan
Samaraweera

116

20

10,653

52.89

47.66

110.97

Steve Waugh

137

21

12,705

53.06

48.45

109.53

Gary Kirs ten

143

14

13,841

47.19

43.98

107.29

Sachin Tendulkar

256

25

23,781

56.22

54.61

102.95

Michael Hus s ey

121

13

11,059

50.82

49.63

102.40

Kumar
Sangakkara

181

12

17,236

55.39

54.31

101.99

Qualification: 10,000 balls played

Dravids ability to spend long periods at the crease meant his contribution to the team was much
more than just the runs he scored. His solidity at the top of the order allowed the other, more
extravagant, strokeplayers in the Indian team to express themselves freely, knowing that Dravid would
hold his end up for long periods without losing concentration.
The table below shows that when Dravid was at the crease, the team scored 32,039 runs (60 of those
were in the Test between Australia and the ICC World XI, so 31,979 runs were scored by the Indian
team). Given that the entire Indian team scored 89,668 runs, it means 35.6% of the total runs that India
made in the Tests in which Dravid played were scored with him at the crease. The corresponding

percentage for Tendulkar is 29.9, and 32.6 for Kallis. Dravid is also the only batsman to be involved
in more than 700 partnerships; in fact, no other batsman has touched 650 so far.
Every time Dravid walked out to bat, he was involved in, on an average, 2.58 partnerships. Among
batsmen who have played at least 100 innings, only Shivnarine Chanderpaul has a higher
partnerships-per-innings number (2.66). So while Dravid scored heaps of runs himself, his batting
style also meant many more runs were being scored from the other end while he was around, all of
which helped the teams cause.
Partnership runs for batsmen with 10,000-plus Test runs
Partners hips

Partners hip
runs

100/50
s tands

Bats man
runs

Percentage

Rahul Dravid

738

32,039

88/126

13,288

41.47

Sachin
Tendulkar

646

30,278

85/121

15,470

51.09

Ricky Ponting

496

26,703

85/110

13,200

49.43

Jacques Kallis

581

26,349

65/119

12,379

46.98

Allan Border

617

24,500

63/104

11,174

45.61

Steve Waugh

590

23,457

64/87

10,927

46.58

Brian Lara

508

21,495

62/84

11,953

55.61

Sunil Gavas kar

519

21,080

58/85

10,122

48.02

Mahela
Jayawardene

429

20,948

63/82

10,271

49.03

Bats man

Dravid has been involved in more century stands than any other batsman: he finished at 88, with
Tendulkar and Ponting on 85 each. Dravid is also the only batsman to have ten or more century stands
with four others. And with Tendulkar, Dravid scored more partnership runs and century stands than
any other pair, including openers, did: 6920 runs in 143 partnerships at 50.51, with 20 century stands.
(Gordon Greenidge and Desmond Haynes are next in terms of runs, with 6482, while in terms of
century stands, the West Indian opening pair shares second place with Hayden and Ponting both have
16 hundred partnerships each.)
Batsmen involved in most 100-plus stands in Tests
Bats man

Century
s tands

Partners with 10+ century s tands

Rahul Dravid

88

Ricky Ponting
Sachin Tendulkar
Jacques Kallis
Steve Waugh
Allan Border
Mahela
Jayawardene
Brian Lara
Shivnarine
Chanderpaul

85
85
65
64
63

Tendulkar (20), Laxman (12), Sehwag

(10), Ganguly (10)
Hayden (16), Langer (14)
Dravid (20), Ganguly (12)
de Villiers (12)

63

Sangakkara (14), Samaraweera (10)

62

Sarwan (12)

60

Sunil Gavas kar

58

Chauhan (11), Vengsarkar (10), M

Amarnath (10)

Beyond the batsman

And if all those achievements are not enough, Dravid was captain of the Indian Test team for 25 Tests,
a period during which the team had an 8-6 win-loss record, and won series in the West Indies and

England. Among Indian captains who led in 20 or more Tests, only MS Dhoni and Sourav Ganguly
have better win-loss ratios.
Indian captains with best win-loss ratio
Captain

Tes ts

Win/Los s

Draw

W/L ratio

MS Dhoni

37

17/10

10

1.70

Sourav Ganguly

49

21/13

15

1.61

Rahul Dravid

25

8/6

11

1.33

Sunil Gavas kar

47

9/8

30

1.12

Mohammad
Az haruddin

47

14/14

19

1.00

Qualification: at least 20 Tests as captain

And on the field, he took a record 210 catches, mostly in the slips. That was another aspect of the
game where his immense powers of concentration stood him in good stead.
Theres plenty to like about Dravids Test career. The one disappointing aspect, though, is his
record against Australia and South Africa, arguably the two best bowling sides during his playing
period. His poor final series in Australia meant his overall average against them dipped below 40
(38.67), while against South Africa he averaged only 33.83. Thus, in 54 Tests against those two teams,
he averaged 36.75, with only four hundreds; in 27 Tests in those two countries, he averaged 36.53,
with only two centuries. He never scored another Test hundred in South Africa after that 148 in
Johannesburg in 1996-97, while the 233 in Adelaide remained his only Test hundred in Australia.
Those, though, are minor blips in a career that largely stayed at an exceptionally high level for more
than 15 years.
Dravid in ODIs
Unlike his Test career, which started with a bang, Dravids scores in his first five completed ODI
innings were 3, 4, 3, 11 and 13. It was only in the tougher conditions of Toronto, in 1996, that his
orthodoxy and tight technique were first recognised as a blessing in ODIs as well: in the five-match
Friendship Cup against Pakistan, he notched up his first half-century and top-scored in two matches.
That was followed by a few impressive innings, including his maiden century, against Pakistan, in a
match overshadowed by Saeed Anwar s record-breaking 194. However, ODIs were still largely a
struggle for Dravid, and perhaps never was that better illustrated than by his 21-ball 1 against
Bangladesh in a Coca-Cola Triangular Series match in May 1998. Till the end of that year, his ODI
record was strictly modest: an average of under 32, at a strike rate of 63, in 65 games.
In his first ODI of 1999, Dravid broke the shackles with an outstanding unbeaten run-a-ball 123
against New Zealand in Taupo, and that kickstarted a sustained run of excellence over the next seven
years. It included a fantastic World Cup in 1999 461 runs at 65.85 and another run-a-ball century
against New Zealand later that year, 153 in Hyderabad, which remained his highest ODI score. The
2003 World Cup was another big success 318 runs at 63.60.
Between 1999 and 2005, Dravid averaged almost 43 from 210 matches, scored ten of his 12
centuries, and won nine of his 14 Man-of-the-Match awards.
Rahul Dravids ODI career
Strike

Period

ODIs

Runs

Average

rate

100s /50s

T ill Dec 1998

Jan 1999 to Dec
2005
Jan 2006 onwards
Career

65

1709

31.64

63.48

1/12

210

7134

42.97

71.97

10/53

69
344

2046
10,889

35.27
39.16

76.34
71.24

1/18
12/83

In the seven years from 1999 to 2005, Dravid was among the most successful ODI batsmen in the
world, which says a lot about his ability to work on his game and adapt. Among batsmen with at least
4000 ODI runs during this period, only three Damien Martyn, Kallis and Tendulkar had a higher
average, while Dravids strike rate of 72 was very acceptable too. Batsmen like Inzamam-ul-Haq,
Mohammad Yousuf and Sourav Ganguly, who were generally rated as far more free-stroking, only
had marginally higher scoring rates.
Top ODI batsmen between Jan 1999 and Dec 2005
ODIs

Runs

Average

Strike
rate

100s /50s

Damien Martyn
Jacques Kallis
Sachin Tendulkar

163
177
151

4411
6348
6181

46.43
45.66
45.44

78.18
70.69
85.07

5/30
10/48
17/28

Rahul Dravid
Ricky Ponting
Inz amam-ul-Haq

210
179
180

7134
6443
5772

42.97
42.66
42.13

71.97
80.48
75.61

10/53
13/37
5/45

Mohammad Yous uf
Sourav Ganguly

194
194

6502
7185

40.89
40.82

75.28
76.00

10/42
17/41

Bats man

Qualification: 4000 runs scored

Of the 344 ODIs that Dravid played in, India won 160, and his contributions in those games were
pretty significant: 5729 runs at 50.69, which made him one of only 11 batsmen to score 5000 or more
runs in wins at 50-plus averages.
Through some of that period between 1999 and 2004, apart from scoring tons of runs Dravid also
kept wicket. He was competent enough at the job to do it 73 times, including at the 2003 World Cup. In
those 73 games Dravid didnt allow his batting to suffer, scoring 2300 runs at more than 44 per
dismissal. Among wicketkeepers who have scored more than 2000 runs, only MS Dhoni has a higher
average. Dravids debut as wicketkeeper was especially memorable: in the 1999 World Cup game
against Sri Lanka, he smashed 145 off 129 balls and was in a 318-run stand for the second wicket with
Ganguly, which at the time was the highest partnership for any wicket in ODIs. In fact, Dravid has
been involved in both triple-century partnerships that have been recorded in ODI history: later in
1999, he shared a 331-run stand with Tendulkar against New Zealand, and in the process also notched
up his highest score.
Best batting averages of wicketkeepers in ODIs
Player

ODIs

Runs

Average

Strike rate

100s / 50s

AB de Villiers

37

2009

80.36

99.65

8/11

MS Dhoni

190

6235

49.09

87.50

7/40

Rahul Dravid

73

2300

44.23

72.60

4/14

Kumar
Sangakkara

257

8647

39.84

76.99

9/63

Adam Gilchris t

282

9410

35.64

96.94

16/53

Andy Flower

186

5845

34.58

73.71

4/46

Alec Stewart

138

4017

33.47

70.06

4/26

Qualification: 2000 runs scored

Of all the batsmen he played alongside, Dravid had the most success with Tendulkar and Ganguly,
putting together 11 century partnerships and scoring more than 4000 runs with each. That makes him
one of only three players Tendulkar and Ganguly being the others to have scored more than 4000
partnership runs with at least two batsmen.
Dravids partnerships with these two were fruitful in World Cups too: he averaged 88 with Ganguly
and almost 83 with Tendulkar. In fact, Dravids overall World Cup record was splendid, even though
his last World Cup campaign ended in bitter disappointment in 2007. Among batsmen who scored at
least 750 World Cup runs, only Viv Richards has a better average.
Best World Cup batting averages*
Matches

Runs

Average

Viv Richards

23

1013

63.31

Strike
rate
85.05

Rahul Dravid
Sachin Tendulkar
Hers chelle Gibbs

22
45
25

860
2278
1067

61.42
56.95
56.15

74.97
88.98
87.38

2/6
6/15
2/8

Sourav Ganguly
Martin Crowe

21
21

1006
880

55.88
55.00

77.50
83.57

4/3
1/8

Bats man

100s /50s
3/5

*Qualification: 750 runs scored

Dravids stint as ODI captain is remembered largely for Indias shocking early exit in 2007, but
Indias overall ODI record under his leadership was extremely healthy. In 79 games they won 42 and
lost 33, giving them a win-loss ratio of 1.27. Among captains who have led India at least 50 times in
ODIs, only Dhoni has a better ratio.
Indian captains and their ODI records*
Captain
MS Dhoni
Rahul Dravid
Mohammad
Az haruddin
Kapil Dev
Sourav Ganguly
Sachin Tendulkar

ODIs

W/L

Ratio

Bat ave

106
79

59/37
42/33

1.59
1.27

52.92
42.19

Strike
rate
82.55
75.42

174

90/76

1.18

39.39

78.46

74
146
73

39/33
76/65
23/43

1.18
1.16
0.53

30.66
38.79
37.75

105.74
76.32
83.49

*Qualification: 50 matches played as captain

Like in Tests, though, the one blot on Dravids ODI career is his record against the best team of his
era: in 39 innings against Australia, he had a highest score of 80, an average of 24.97 and a strike rate
of 66.94. Those are disappointing numbers, especially given the number of matches he played against
them. Of course, given Australias awesome bowling attack, plenty of other top ODI batsmen
struggled too Ganguly averaged 23.45, Anwar 23.55, and Sehwag 22.37. Against all the other teams,
though, Dravids record was top-class, even in a format that was initially thought to be outside his
comfort zone.
S Rajesh is stats editor of ESPNcricinfo, where a version of this article was first published on March 9, 2012.

Test match record

overall

Mat
164

Inns
286

NO
32

Career averages
Runs
HS
13288 270

Ave
SR
52.31 42.51

100
36

50
63

Career summary
Grouping
ICC World XI
India

Mat
1
163

Inns
2
284

NO
0
32

Runs
HS
23
23
13265 270

Ave
SR
11.50 31.08
52.63 42.53

100
0
36

50
0
63

v Australia
v Bangladesh
v England
v New Zealand
v Pakistan
v South Africa
v Sri Lanka
v West Indies
v Zimbabwe

33
7
21
15
15
21
20
23
9

62
10
37
28
26
40
32
38
13

6
2
5
2
3
3
1
7
3

2166 233
560 160
1950 217
1659 222
1236 270
1252 148
1508 177
1978 146
979 200*

38.67
70.00
60.93
63.80
53.73
33.83
48.64
63.80
97.90

39.33
59.44
41.35
45.22
45.24
34.86
46.47
40.54
49.41

2
3
7
6
5
2
3
5
3

13
1
8
6
3
5
9
13
5

in Australia
in Bangladesh
in England
in India
in New Zealand
in Pakistan
in South Africa
in Sri Lanka
in West Indies
in Zimbabwe

16
7
13
70
7
6
11
12
17
5

32
10
23
120
14
9
22
21
28
7

4
2
3
11
2
2
1
1
5
1

1166
560
1376
5598
766
550
624
662
1511
475

233
160
217
222
190
270
148
107
146
118

41.64
70.00
68.80
51.35
63.83
78.57
29.71
33.10
65.69
79.16

39.57
59.44
44.66
42.38
43.69
51.06
37.63
40.61
38.40
46.11

1
3
6
15
2
3
1
1
3
1

6
1
4
27
5
0
2
4
11
3

home
away

70
94

120
166

11
21

5598
7690

222
270

51.35 42.38
53.03 42.60

15
21

27
36

1996
1997
1998
1999
2000
2001
2002
2003

7
12
5
10
6
13
16
5

12
18
9
19
11
23
26
10

1
2
0
1
3
3
3
2

39.63
61.50
45.88
48.05
78.00
46.75
59.00
100.37

37.42
36.93
37.85
42.44
49.44
40.28
41.92
51.37

0
1
1
4
2
1
5
2

3
9
3
1
1
6
5
3

2004
2005
2006
2007
2008
2009
2010
2011
2012

Mat
12
8
12
10
15
6
12
12
3

Inns
18
12
22
19
28
10
20
23
6

Ave
63.06
53.33
60.83
35.64
30.96
83.00
42.83
57.25
19.33

SR
42.49
45.58
42.26
41.79
38.60
48.60
44.56
44.74
34.62

100
2
2
3
1
2
2
3
5
0

50
4
4
7
3
4
5
1
4
0

436
95
984 148
413
118
865 190
624 200*
935 180
1357 217
803 233
Career averages
NO
Runs
HS
3
946 270
0
640 135
4
1095 146
2
606 129
2
805 136
1
747 177
2
771 191
3
1145 146*
0
116
47

M Azharuddin
MS Dhoni
R Dravid
SC Ganguly
A Kumble
V Sehwag
GC Smith
SR Tendulkar

12
35
25
49
14
3
1
25

21
62
45
80
27
6
2
43

1
7
6
13
2
0
0
3

Under captain
1162 190
2812 191
1736 146
4912 270
785
111
199
83
23
23
1659 148

is captain
is not captain

25
139

45
241

6
26

1st team innings

2nd team innings

164
132

164
122

1st match innings

2nd match innings
3rd match innings
4th match innings

75
89
67
65

won match
lost match
drawn match

56
49
59

1
2
3
4
5
6
7

3
14
134
16
11
6
4

42.98
45.28
41.95
45.52
37.38
35.15
31.08
35.46

4
11
4
14
1
0
0
2

6
8
10
22
5
2
0
10

1736 146
11552 270

44.51 41.95
53.73 42.59

4
32

10
53

10
22

9105
4183

59.12 43.73
41.83 40.07

30
6

39
24

75
89
65
57

3
7
4
18

4121 222
4984 270
2608 180
1575 103*

57.23
60.78
42.75
40.38

44.89
42.81
40.49
39.39

15
15
5
1

15
24
15
9

92
98
96

14
5
13

5131 270 65.78 47.57

2778 146* 29.87 35.08
5379 222 64.80 42.84

15
4
17

23
12
28

3
20
219
21
11
8
4

Batting position
0
72
38
4
735 146*
20 10524 270
3
957 146
3
308 144*
2
413 180
0
279
95

0
4
28
2
1
1
0

0
1
50
6
1
2
3

270
180

58.10
51.12
44.51
73.31
31.40
33.16
11.50
41.47

24.00
45.93
52.88
53.16
38.50
68.83
69.75

25.89
42.26
42.78
39.75
37.19
51.94
45.51

ODI record
Overall

Career averages
Mat
Runs
HS
Ave
SR
344 10889 153 39.16 71.24

100
12

50
83

4s
950

6s
42

Grouping
Asia XI
ICC World XI
India

Career summary
Mat
Runs
HS
Ave
SR
1
75
75*
105.63
3
46
26 15.33 52.87
340 10768 153 39.15 71.18

100
0
0
12

50
1
0
82

4s
5
3
942

6s
0
0
42

v Australia
v Bangladesh
v Bermuda
v England
v ICC World XI
v Ireland
v Kenya
v Namibia
v Netherlands
v New Zealand
v Pakistan
v Scotland
v South Africa
v Sri Lanka
v UAE
v West Indies
v Zimbabwe

43
10
1
30
1
1
11
1
1
31
58
1
36
46
1
40
32

974
80 24.97 66.94
197
60 32.83 64.59
7
7*
350.00
1012 92* 38.92 77.48
75
75*
105.63
358 104* 71.60 74.58
17
17 17.00 44.73
1032 153 41.28 69.58
1899 107 36.51 67.17
10
10*
125.00
1309 84 39.66 66.54
1662 145 48.88 75.20
104 104 104.00 111.82
1348 109* 42.12 74.39
885
85 36.87 72.12

0
0
0
0
0
1
0
2
2
0
0
3
1
3
0

8
2
0
11
1
1
0
5
14
0
14
11
0
8
8

85
13
0
103
5
33
0
96
157
2
116
144
8
127
61

2
0
1
5
0
1
0
10
1
0
4
8
0
10
0

in Australia
in Bangladesh
in Canada
in England
in India
in Ireland
in Kenya
in Malaysia
in Netherlands
in New Zealand
in Pakistan
in Scotland
in Singapore
in South Africa
in Sri Lanka

22
9
18
32
97
4
8
4
2
12
11
1
6
30
42

0
0
0
2
6
0
0
0
0
1
0
0
1
0
1

7
2
2
11
24
1
2
0
0
2
6
0
0
10
8

53
23
27
117
317
10
27
5
0
36
51
2
18
70
88

0
0
3
7
16
0
0
0
0
3
0
0
2
4
3

in UAE
in West Indies
in Zimbabwe

Mat
17
15
14

666
84 33.30 67.13
295
60 42.14 66.44
415
90 27.66 59.20
1238 145 45.85 80.65
3406 153 43.11 78.53
112
74 37.33 73.68
238 68* 39.66 65.02
39
26
9.75 46.42
0
0
0.00
0.00
425 123* 38.63 63.33
503
99 50.30 73.00
10
10*
125.00
190 103* 38.00 73.92
930
84 44.28 64.89
1156 104 38.53 68.60
Career averages
Runs
HS
Ave
SR
538
92 31.64 59.57
408 105 34.00 68.11
320 72* 32.00 74.94

100
0
1
0

50
4
2
2

4s
41
38
27

6s
0
4
0

home
away

97
120

3406 153 43.11

4044 123* 41.26

6
2

24
37

317
349

16
16

78.53
69.44

neutral

127

3439

34.04

67.11

22

284

10

1996
1997
1998
1999
2000
2001
2002
2003
2004
2005
2006
2007
2009
2011

20
31
14
43
31
24
28
23
31
30
27
31
6
5

475
90 27.94
951 107 39.62
283
64 21.76
1761 153 46.34
980
85 35.00
740
80 43.52
913 109* 48.05
623
62 41.53
1025 104 39.42
1092 104 47.47
919 105 35.34
823 92* 37.40
180
76 36.00
124
69 24.80

69.54
63.69
54.84
75.16
63.80
70.74
76.65
64.49
74.98
74.64
73.22
82.05
68.70
77.50

0
1
0
6
0
0
1
0
1
2
1
0
0
0

3
8
1
8
9
6
7
4
10
9
8
8
1
1

32
77
16
164
91
58
70
50
85
100
112
75
11
9

1
2
0
12
1
1
2
4
2
2
3
10
2
0

4
0
2
3
0
0
3

6
2
25
34
2
0
14

103
25
275
346
31
3
167

4
3
14
12
0
0
9

145

M Azharuddin
MS Dhoni
R Dravid
SC Ganguly
A Jadeja
SM Pollock
SR Tendulkar

34
17
79
133
13
3
65

1206
355
2658
4229
320
46
2075

Under captain
145 40.20 74.39
76 23.66 70.71
105 42.19 75.42
109* 41.87 71.90
81 26.66 61.42
26 15.33 52.87
153 38.42 65.91

is captain
is not captain

79
265

2658
8231

105
153

42.19
38.28

75.42
69.99

2
10

25
58

275
675

14
28

73

2300

145

44.23

72.60

14

193

271

8589

153

38.00

70.88

69

757

33

1st match innings 168

2nd match innings 171

6202 153 42.77

4687 109* 35.24

73.22
68.78

9
3

48
35

528
422

27
15

day/night match
day match

147
197

4870 123* 40.24

6019 153 38.33

70.41
71.92

5
7

38
45

408
542

13
29

Mat
160
165
2
17

Career averages
Runs
HS
Ave
SR
5729 153 50.69 75.27
4807 123* 31.01 67.24
42
23 21.00 55.26
311
82 38.87 69.41

100
8
4
0
0

50
47
33
0
3

4s
506
408
5
31

6s
26
15
0
1

Tournament
World Cup
Asia Cup
Aus Tri Series (CB)
ICC Champions
Trophy

Mat
22
13
18

Runs
860
334
545

HS
145
104
84

Ave
61.42
37.11
32.05

SR
74.97
78.22
65.34

100
2
1
0

50
6
2
6

4s
76
29
45

6s
3
1
0

19

627

76

48.23

73.33

56

tournament finals
tournament
semi-finals

24

729

103* 34.71

68.13

59

128

66.32

12

is designated
keeper
is not keeper

won match
lost match
tied match
no result

58

42.66

tournament
quarter-finals
preliminary
quarter-finals
preliminary
matches
Batting position
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8

57

48

28.50

58.16

68

68*

78.16

153

4555

145

37.33

69.07

38

390

11

Mat
8
13
109
102
69
13
3
1

Runs
HS
Ave
191
85 27.28
595 105 45.76
4000 153 38.83
3301 109* 36.27
2459 104 43.91
306
51 51.00
26
16 26.00
11
11 11.00

SR
60.63
70.91
69.60
70.91
73.60
95.03
59.09
52.38

100
0
1
7
2
2
0
0
0

50
1
6
27
26
22
1
0
0

4s
16
64
363
300
181
25
1
0

6s
1
3
15
4
15
3
1
0

Acknowledgements
This book, like all anthologies, features a number of writers, but a book does not come to life
without vital contributions from many people without bylines. Thanks are due to:
Saurabh Chaturvedi, for getting excited by the idea. Rina Mehta, for being the punching bag. Priya
Ramani, Wally Mason and Alex Lavelle, for their generosity. Vijeeta and Pushpa Dravid, for sharing
their family albums. And Nishi Narayanan, for dealing with masses of copy.