Akhtar's book (and why BCCI is wrong again!)

After a vacation of sorts from this space, during which time I did pen paeans for Dravid elsewhere (among other things for fear that if they were penned here my lovely friend, co-author and critic would ambush me!), Shoaib Akhar's Controversially Yours and the media circus surrounding it has given me something to write about. In this connection, I find myself mostly in agreement with Kamran Abbasi when he says Akhtar is the victim of his own inferno, despite his lines that hardly veil his attempts to show Indian batsmanship as second to others'. More on that though for another day.

The former Pakistani paceman from 'Pindi has evidently said in his book that Tendulkar and Rahul Dravid are not match-winners in their own right. As far as statements in general go and as far as Shoaib's words, not very different in consistency from Shahid Afridi's retirements or Ijaz Butt's decisions, go, that is hardly a shoulder-high bouncer let alone a beamer. Others have said similar things in the past and truth is seldom judged by the loudness of the chorus anyway. But what made the Indian spectators, BCCI, the fans and their uncles - and also Wasim Akram - irate is the reference to "fear" in the eyes of the little master at a test match in Faislabad. As absurd and foolhardy as the claim seems, lifting it out of context and aggrandising Akhtar's stature as cricket's primordial bete noire is a media stunt intended either to make the book sell or to attract more prime time viewership given that there is no bigger idol in India than SRT. Thus what should have been treated as a joke, an attention-seeking ruse or at the very least a rather parochial opinion has been blown out of proportion. I can bet that half of the bandwagon, comprising media personnel, ex-cricketers, garrulous cricketing pundits and others participating in opinion polls, would not have even seen the book cover before delivering their "expert" opinions on the matter.

As always, Harsha Bhogle's tweets on September 26 about Akhtar's book breathed commendable moderation and commonsense. I completely agree with Mr. Bhogle when he says that Akhtar, much like you and I and the rest of the world, is entitled to an opinion albeit "[he] is not a saint". I also tend to concede that there is, in our part of the world, an almost tetchy wait to feel offended and at the slightest of provocation we get ready to hurl our verbal repertoire against any opinion that is in discord with our own. Admittedly, a headline like "Akhtar says Sachin feared me" is not something that will go down well, even as an opinion, in a cricket-mad nation like India. And yet when Tendulkar himself said that it is beneath his dignity to respond - a response arguably as clean and firm as his back-foot cover drive - I fail to understand the ambient fuss.

Of all responses to Akhtar's remarks, what surprised me most, however, was BCCI's demand for an apology from him, as if his remarks have hurt the reputation of a young tyro, or have devalued and brought down Dravid's and Tendulkar's colossi of runs overnight, or have hurt BCCI's fiscal underbelly. From a board which does not allow its selection committee (or coach) to be accountable - by gagging its members from speaking to the media - whose selection committee does not know the difference between a raw fledgling and an emerging player, or even between a fit and an unfit one, which thinks there is no need for an inquiry into the Indian team's zero-international-win debacle in England recently, and which acts holier-than-thou at the slightest sign of governmental or other interference when its internal structure seems more daunting than the notorious iron curtain, the reactions to a controversial character's rants and the demand for an apology are as befuddling as they are amusing. If BCCI's response is out of anger, and there is little to suggest that, the anger is as misplaced as its priorities are. No wonder the board is headed by a hardliner whose interests in cricket seem like a mere extension of his business interests. 

I am not making a case for Akhtar or his book. However, the fact that we spend loads of vocal decibels, paper and new media space and television hours on a remark made somewhere in a book is quite annoying even if the tendency is not new and may be a sign of the times. I will close with yet another remark made by a former player about Sachin Tendulkar a few years ago in his autobiography titled True Colours: the  substance of it was that Tendulkar would never be around for "shake hands" whenever India lost a game. We could have said, "I see" or politely interjected with a "So what? He plays only to win which is not criminal!". Instead, we and our media again blew the issue up, throwing in the reference "loser" for good measure and attributed it to the author who, at least in my opinion (even with his flaws during Sydneygate which he acknowledges and which he provides an unapologetic perspective on), is among the fairest gents to have played the game: Adam Gilchrist walked - and not just his talk - and we blamed him for his observations about "our" Little Master. I would in no way liken Akhtar to Gilchrist - or their books to one another - but the upshot is this: if every response we have to an opinion is coloured deeply with our own -isms (among them nationalism), how is it that we feel self-righteously fair in criticising others for their opinions, the way they play the game or their lack of sportsmanship?

The jury, Ladies and Gentlemen, is still out.    

Between Kingston and Lord's - a Dravid fan's perspective:

After Dravid scored that gritty, but arguably ugly, 112 at Kingston barely a month ago, against a West Indian attack that was potent in patches but not powerful overall, I followed the comments' threads on Dravid-related articles out of curiosity: one gentleman - or may be a young lad, as it seemed from the tone - suggested that it was becoming a habit of Dravid's fans to come out of the woodwork whenever Dravid scores and stay silent when he (often, evidently) fails. Not that it is a crime for most fans tend to do that but the observation got me thinking. For a moment, my loyalty, too, seemed to cringe and I felt guilty for being such a blind adherent to Dravid's craft. That the 112 won in India the game - eventually the series - was forgotten. Maybe, that's what Dravid is- a man who needs to reprove his worth, and does not mind doing so, even to those who know better, time and again. The day he has done enough reproving, he would probably walk away. That, too, is Rahul Dravid.

Now that I think of the gentleman's comments once again, in the light of Rahul's hundred at Lord's today, I feel pleasantly amused and mildly annoyed. Chris Tremlett is not Curtley Ambrose and Stuart Broad is not Malcolm Marshall - and in any case cross-generational comparisons are at best quirky and at best silly figments of collective imaginations: how else can you explain an all time ICC World Test XI that has no place for Sobers, Hadlee or Muralidharan but has (with due respect to them) Sehwag, both Lara and Tendulkar, and Kapil Dev? - but the English bowling attack is arguably the second best going around at the moment and at home they can be more than a handful: scoring a hundred against them - never mind he is 38, never mind the pre-match hype and never mind the history associated with the Lord's which can stifle the most seasoned of veterans, for he is Dravid, the blue-collared workman "whose to only do, never question" - when everybody fell around him speaks of, cliched as it may seem, class of the highest kind. Yes, IF Swann had pouched him at slip on 42 - then what? Contact Navjot Sidhu, please.

From the articles I have glimpsed so far, the ones released soon after the 3rd day's play at Lord's, the theme that I'd expected to emerge has damnably emerged though the structures and words used vary: "while everyone expected the little master's hundredth, it was Dravid..." Sachin Tendulkar got a standing ovation, accentuated by the expectation of a 100th international hundred but it was Dravid who scored the 100th hundred - putting Laxman's, Tendulkar's and Dravid's tallies together." Even a pundit like Jonathan Agnew - or may be because he is a pundit he needs to satisfy the hoi polloi - while praising Dravid's accomplishment has to juxtapose his getting onto the Honours' Board at Lord's with Tendulkar not teaching his 100th ton! Why on EARTH?! Sachin Tendulkar may be the next best since Bradman, or even better if some quarters are to be believed, but does it mean every fine batting performance has to refer to Tendulkar in some way? It is worse than hearing Gavaskar, Shastri and Manjrekar together in the commentary box when Tendulkar is batting - or more often when he is not! It still makes no difference to them.

I don't have a problem with the great man (and I can liken a 100 international hundreds at best to having many phonology papers published, which manifests the scale of his imminent achievement by not even fitting it into my imagination!), but for once I shall refrain from being diplomatic and say that I DO have a problem when someone contextualises a Dravid achievement in terms of something else - Laxman's artistry, Sehwag's savagery, Ganguly's elegance, Tendulkar's genius... the list never seems to end. As it is the man's performances are mostly overshadowed by stastistics and greenhorns whose cameos have the sparkle his sturdiness in the middle lacks, so let us cut him some slack at least when he truly stands head and shoulders above the rest. It is good to know I am not alone, though, in saying this. A girl expressed similar sentiments to the espncricinfo commentary team and thankfully it was published. Alec Stewart, without getting into the argument, celebrates Dravid's achievement as that of a fine cricketer's and a gentleman's in a tweet. In this context, I recall another write-up. Two years ago when Dravid made a 177 in a Day against Sri Lanka at Motera, after India were 69-4, Jarod Kimber wrote a delightful piece about how Dravid has always been the man behind the man, how it may have to do with the essence of Dravid's own personage - and how he, Kimber, has a problem with it. I have a problem, too.

I have not, in gloating about Dravid's chips-are-down hundred, forgotten that this test match has still a lot of cricket left. Drawing it will require a mighty dig - of the Athertonian kind - in the second innings from India. But in the hullabaloo, fuelled slightly by the comparative tendencies mentioned above, I have forgotten two things: Dravid's innings was more fluent than any of his recent hundreds and a throwback to the Halcyon Days of 2002-2005 when the extra cover drive, the on-drive with a straight bat through mid-wicket and the forward defensive competed for immaculateness. A particular shot stays in memory: Anderson pitched full, the ball swung, Dravid opened the face of the bat and the square-drive (it's been ages since I saw Dravid play the stroke, going down on one knee!) cantered along the carpet to the fence, for what was the first of the latter's 15 fours. The other thing is the small matter of Dravid's surpassing Ponting in the list of test cricket's highest run-getters (if only temporarily) during the course of his century.

If India does lose this test, it will only be the second time in twelve years that a Dravid century will have not helped in a draw or victory. Many cricket teams would woo such a batsman; we take him for granted. The gap Dravid will leave may not be impossible to fill, for human beings are indispensable, but it will be difficult at the very least . Let us acknowledge at least that much for a man who is only behind Anil Kumble in the number of tests he has one won for India and behind nobody in terms of that inspiring whole-hearted dedication he brings to his job. The acknowledgement is long overdue.

The Week of the Old-fashioned!

There is something logic-defying about a Virendra Sehwag blitzkrieg, imagination-spurring about a Brian Lara coup, religiously quintessential about a Sachin Tendulkar ton, incredible about Ricky Ponting’s sense of occasion and endearing about V.V.S Laxman’s rearguards. But what might recommend Michael Hussey and Dravid one would think amid their more illustrious peers? That both men look dashing into their thirties and may still be MTV icons and heart-throbs of girls is not the kind of recommendation I am talking of. And yet in the week that has gone by (or is going by with today) both Michael Hussey and Rahul Dravid have shown with their sterling 190s how invaluable they are to their teams. As Sunil Gavaskar once famously said you bat foremost for your team and it is your team-mates’ applause that drives you at the end of the day. In case we had forgotten, this week clarified yet again why Dravid and Hussey are rated highly in the dressing room even if not by fickle fans and pressure-ridden selectors.

Apart from the fact that Michael Hussey is a left-hander and Dravid is not and that Dravid is over two summers older than the senior Hussey, there is not much that separates the two men. Their nicknames too say as much. One is both famously and infamously called The Wall for his over-my-dead-body style of playing the game. The other is referred to as Mr. Cricket for the meticulous manner in which he prepares before each match. Both rely on a tight defence to guard their fortress. And yet once they feel that their team is in the zone of safety, they unfurl a repertory of strokes which are a treat to watch and which sometimes make you wonder whether if they are two different batsmen at different stages in their innings. The point that is missed by many, conveniently or engulfed in the brightness of the other stars, is that Dravid’s solidity and Hussey’s workmanlike style lend great balance to batting line-ups punctuated with strokemakers par excellence. Skippers, fellow batsmen and journalists have said as much and not without reason.

Before their 190s this week, both men had a Damocles’ Sword hanging atop their head. To surmise that they themselves were unaware of it from the way they played – Dravid with calm discipline and Hussey with rich freedom – shows some superficial thinking on the part of the spectator. The clouds of pressure have not quite been burned away by the forceful sunshine of their backs-to-the-wall efforts. If anything, they have gone somewhere for the time being and may yet return soon enough. Dravid had, and still has and will till he retires, the likes of Cheteshwar Pujara at his heels. I am not too sure about the Australian bench but I am sure someone like Usman Khwaja picked in the long Ashes squad would make Hussey sweat over his position.

Dravid’s match-winning 191 at the Vidharba Cricket Academy which admittedly came against a decent and disciplined but not extraordinary New Zealand bowling attack and Hussey’s 195 against a potent England bowling battery that has put Australia in a commanding position at the Gabba may or may not have ensured security for Dravid’s and Hussey’s berths in their respective elevens. But coming as they did on the back of heavy criticism from the media, an extended run of poor form and probably a personal lack of confidence as well, the two gentlemen’s marathon efforts will be remembered for showing us yet again that even sport cannot besmirch human endurance and that form is temporary whilst class is permanent.

One other classical batsman, who ran dry just about the time Dravid did after the tour to England in 2007, has also been amongst the runs. Jacques Kallis has in fact unlike Hussey and Dravid been prolific lately, peeling off hundreds with the same kind of consistency, predictability and calm majesty with which Tendulkar has done – again – over the past fifteen months, narrowing the gap between himself and Ponting in terms of number of centuries. With an average in excess of 55 after close to 140 tests, a vastly improved strike rate and a few more years left in him, Kallis still has the time for a few more marathons and magnum opuses. Hussey too has a couple of years in him. As for Dravid I feel questions will be asked after every tour especially if he does not get big hundreds.

Be that as it may, Hussey and Dravid have both served their countries with remarkable consistency. However, when they call time both Hussey and Dravid will be remembered for their squeaky-clean image, the transparency and competitiveness, a rare combine in modern cricket or for that matter sport, with which they played the game. Their numbers may be less glossy compared to some of their most illustrious peers, but that is often because they played for the team and played in a manner that might make their peers’ swashbuckling business a lot easier and a lot more glamorous. Obviously devotion to the team and sincerity cannot be captured by statistics. At least, not yet.

The Wall near the Door!

After writing a lengthy birthday tribute for one of my life’s greatest inspirations, my Father, I am a little depleted physically and mentally. Yet I do not want to shy away from recording these observations here tonight. I hope I am terribly wrong and so is my best friend Sid – and you cannot find two men who take Rahul Dravid’s game to heart more than we do. For both of us, Rahul’s batting represents a symphony set in an ethereal pitch, a symphony that evokes an emotional response containing deference, delight, gratitude and perhaps even love. But to discern that symphony being ground to the status of something like a hackneyed tune in a broken gramophone hurts – quite literally like a broken heart – and hurts big time. What is baffling is that one would have expected a sensible guy like Rahul to pick an opportune time to go and one feels that has come and gone. Seeing him bat in the last two series, I feel like he is already on borrowed time – not the best thing to say about a prodigious number 3 or one’s greatest idol, but the facts are there for all to see.

In Sri Lanka where Dravid’s defence was still working solid, commentators said he was finding ways to get out. Indeed, there was one freak dismissal to Suraj Randiv and an umpiring decision that could have gone either way. But the signs of sunset were there, not writ in stone or sounded prominently, but they were there, cooed subtly like the whispers of a grey breeze bringing in the long night. In sport, like in most other fields that test if not make human character, body language bears as much eloquence as the actual deeds in the middle. As Dravid walked back to the pavilion at the P. Sara Oval after being bowled I could see (and I admit it is subjective) something other than the disappointment of failing his lofty standards yet again. The handsome face was drained of colour and one could spot in it the faintest traces of weariness.

People who have seen Dravid in his prime would swear that seeing him get out in a similar way or to a certain type of bowling or delivery in a succession of innings is as rare as seeing Sehwag defend for an entire over, which of course is the cricketing equivalent of spotting a Halley’s Comet or understanding Einstein’s equations. But in this series, the Comet has been spotted, Einstein’s ghost has been awakened and the Wall has been breached three times out of three by: (a) a left-arm pacemen (twice to Bollinger in the last test); (ii) deliveries going across the off-stump; and (iii) strokes played away from the body – in attack or defence. Warning signs wouldn’t you think especially for a man who when in his zone used to give the impression that he had an additional eye on his back focusing on the off-stump? Writing on the wall (and no cheesiness in the use of this expression), in fact, Sid and I would say.

Cricket is a cruel game even though it may not seem as cruel as football or tennis because rapidity is often mistaken to be the mother of all sporting strains. As Peter Roebuck writes, fine sportsmen who go past their primes still linger around in the hope of one more magical hour or a half or even a minute for their ticker has been tuned to expectation, performance, consistency and winning. It is like hanging on in a relationship even though it is taxing because the tussle is familiar while getting out entails encountering alien emptiness. Gooch might have scored more than half of his test runs after his fortieth summer including a majestic 333 against India at Lord's but he is an exception. Tendulkar at 37 may be the ICC Cricketer of the Year after a dream year. Tendulkar is Tendulkar anyway and I wonder at times if he had immortality at heart alongside bat in hand when he first faced up to a bowler. But sport levels. Even Sir Donald – the greatest of cricketers – had to settle for an imperfect 99.94.

The rest of the sporting fraternity comprises mere mortals, some more skilled than others, a few more resilient than the rest and a lot who remain in the fringes – ask Badrinath – but once their present turns past everything ceases to be irrelevant for old deeds are forgotten at the sight of a new kid in the block. Change is no foe to sport, in fact, sport thrives on it. At the end of the day everyone has to step out of the dream, look at the sun, understand that it is time for others to live the dream and walk away. Mind you, it is difficult in general to walk away as you will hear men and women who have slogged with sloth behind thankless cubicles tell you that they find it hard to retire. It is even tougher in competitive sport. It requires mental clarity, firm will, the assurance from those who keep you grounded outside of your game’s nadirs and zeniths that all is going to be fine and some luck which can go a long way towards setting up a good if not a fairytale ending. Steve Waugh’s farewell was befitting as he set into darkness doing what he used to do best – play a combative knock which saved Australia his farewell test at Sydney. Comparisons between Waugh and Dravid are  quite natural but when it comes to retirement, (my friend as well as) I feel that Dravid has already missed doing a Steve Waugh.

Even if Rahul Dravid only comes up with single digit efforts in the rest of his test career, even is his catch aggregate remains on 198 and even if he is booed by a nation’s fickle crowd which has done it to him in the past, the admiration Sid and I have for the man will not dwindle. For it is a faith, a sort of fondness transfused into our bloodlines and is non-negotiable. But the muffled titters and mockery will hurt especially when he could have gone on a high at so many points during the last year or so. Fact is he deserves to go on a high. India may be brittle without Dravid in South Africa but even with him I do not see the middle order getting fortified. That is wishful thinking based on a record book which aside from statistics is just history. In any case, Dravid's performances in South Africa may be at best described as lukewarm.  His increased uncertainty outside off will be spotted and ruthlessly exploited by Steyn, Morkel and company. For the first time in the last fourteen years, I must say this: it is better for the team to feel insecure without the cushion of 11500 runs than carry the baggage of a frustrated legend. The door is ajar. And it won’t be long before others force it open for such is the order of sport and the ordainment of time through the offices of age. And we hope Dravid calls time in his own terms before that, forthrightly and confidently, exactly the manner of his forward defence which will be an enduring memory of the man that cricinfo refers to be among the last classical test batsmen.

Has the Wall cracked?!

As the India-Sri Lanka three series rubber, which in hindsight can be called quite literally that, reaches the business end with an Indian interest surprisingly remnant in the last two days,  I am contemplating the swan song of one of my favourite cricketers ever and my favourite batsman to have ever played the game. Swan song, some may ask, because Rahul Dravid himself has not quite evinced any interest of retirement? Yet sport is as metaphorical an agent of human destiny as any other where a practitioner's end foreshadows him. So, as Sachin Tendulkar's second coming - or is it third? - continues with staggering consistency and keeps putting the master beyond Ponting's and everybody else's grasp among other things, Dravid's half century-less series which may well conclude that way does give me that lump-throat feeling of truth as I had pointed out on twitter. And it is not at all about the number of runs he has scored which can vary with good fortune or lack of it. 

Sample this. Venue: Sinhalese Sports Club (a.k.a bowlers graveyard these days). Sri Lanka has mauled the Indian bowlers in getting to 642. Vijay and a marauding Sehwag have put on 165 for the first wicket. Enter Dravid, plays eighteen balls for 3 and then plays back to one that's only slightly quicker, by no stretch of imagination a Goliath-slayer so to speak. Gets adjudged LBW beyond a smidgen of doubt. In an innings where every other Indian - barring Harbhajan Singh - would get off the mark and reach double figures, Dravid's end was uncharacteristic and dismal considering the pitch but sadly betrayed the only technical defect that he arguably has, playing round the front pad, which lets him down when he is out of touch. Fast forward to the post-tea session on Day 2 of the final test at the P Sara Oval. Dravid strokes some silken drives through extra-cover and down the ground to get to a rapid 23. And then he plays slightly back to a ball he should have been forward to. The ball would take half of leg stump and Simon Taufel does not give those not out even in dreams within a dream! A finely blossoming innings done in - again by playing round the front pads.

For a casual onlooker, Rahul's dismissals within a space of a session under ten days may not ring any bells. But for someone like me who has followed his career closely as a cricket aficionado as well as a fan of his batting, these successive dismissals suggest something that has been, in cricketing circles, unheard of as far as Dravid is concerned: they were an action of replay of each other, the variables being the pitch, the bowler type of the bowler and the umpire who gave the verdict on the two occasions. After fourteen years and 140 odd tests Dravid remains a keen student of the game and he himself would know exactly what I am pointing out. Is it a mere coincidence? If it is not, is it Dravid's physical reflexes which are abandoning him (for the mental side of his game hardly becomes casual and remains one of his greatest assets)? 

Even the gritty forty-four in the second innings of the crucial test at Galle ended with a casual - read unDravid-like - airy flick on the leg side. That the dismissal triggered a batting implosion heralded by retiring giant Murali will go into Sri Lankan cricketing lore forever. What if Dravid and Tendulkar had survived the night and batted the next morning? Perhaps, we might have saved the test match and the series would still be love-all. Yet sport just like life cannot take more than just cold wisdom from the teachings of hindsight.  

While a lot seems to have gone on in the Wall's cricketing career since his return from that inopportune injury he sustained in Bangladesh earlier this year, an effect that time allied by a challenged and therefore desperate mind is able to concoct when the going gets to thwart your sanity among other things, only four innings have in reality gone by without his scoring a hundred. Yet this glorious game, often abominably reduced to reams of statistics, is more than just numbers. Dravid himself understands that better than others who may get carried away by the lovely but sometime superficial contours of statistical Manhattans. Which is why the mode of his recent dismissals becomes such a stark signal begging - if unwittingly - the question: has the wall cracked to the extent that even innings displaying qualities of great fight will be seen no more?

The last time I asked that question was sometime in the December of 2008 when everybody, including the likes of my dearest friend Siddharth and me, was preparing to give the Wall a half-sighed half-smiled farewell. He already had ten and quarter thousand runs then and twenty-five hundreds. What followed was satisfying for a Dravid fan: a fluent 136 against England at Mohali, a consistent although ton-less tour of New Zealand, and three more hundreds. Along the way, Dravid has gone past 11,000 test runs, crossed Allan Border, returned from another injury and looked solid before returning to the pavilion to singular mistakes which Dravid would own up to.

One more innings remains for Dravid and India in this series, and going by the way the match is shaping up it may be a match-winning - and series-winning - innings or a match-losing outing. So often in the past, Dravid has stepped up to the plate in crucial last game scenarios: Jamaica 2006 and Rawalpindi 2004 come to mind instantly with the freshness of today's dawn. Even as the realist in me wonders if Dravid has the capacity to bite the bullet, quell the jangling nerves and do an encore that gave him the tag Mr. Dependable, the undying romanticist in me, that will love Dravid irrespective of whatever he accomplishes or does not accomplish henceforth, hopes for a miracle. With a two-test cameo series against Australia in the offing, Dravid may well be looking forward for substantial runs against the previous decade's Indian arch-enemy in tests too for it could be his last battle against them. 

But as Peter Roebuck rightly says: there are only so many battles left in a man. Perhaps, Dravid's reserves of resilience are at their dregs. You could say that whatever Dravid has been since he warded off two seasons of woeful form are a bonus! Tendulkar remains a genius and merits no comparison with anyone else on any given batting criterion, even those yet to be invented, unless the criterion goes simply by the surname Bradman. Virat Kohli, Cheteshwar Pujara, Manish Pandey, Rohit Sharma, Badri and others are chipping away in domestic cricket, their runs becoming a fusillade at various position in the Indian batting line-up. Dravid's own position at 3 is not as strong as it used to be. But for what it once was, and for a very long time, Dravid's name in Indian cricket will remain synonymous with dependability, dedication and depth. 

That he will always be remembered as a foot solider and not as a commander or a general is not an embarrassment and is sometimes, in fact, irrelevant. It stands for whatever Dravid has stood for, through victories at Rawalpindi, Headingley, Kandy, Kingston, Perth, Kolkata and Adelaide, draws at the Oval, Port Elizabeth, Johannesberg and Hamilton and heart-breaking losses at Durban (1996), Karachi, Barbados, Sydney and elsewhere. It stands for a sportsman who has made the most use of his abilities and pushed the boundaries of limitations manifold more than anybody including he would have expected and a man who more often than not challenged the best out of himself when the team was down for the count. Pride, performance and forthrightness have driven Dravid on the field making him a Steve Waugh-like champion. And humility has kept him grounded as a person off it. 

    

‘King’ston special: an excerpt

A couple of months ago I helped a friend with a write up on my favourite cricketer - Rahul Dravid. I was rereading it today ti see if it will put me to sleep when I chanced upon this. And I thought I should post it here!

Time: The 2006  Series against (and in) the West Indies

The 4-1 loss in the one-day series hurt and what hurt more was the close margins in a couple of games. So as India took on the West Indies in the test series in June, the Windies held the upper head and the psychological edge. The Calypso music and beers were out and so was the sun. India had squandered two wonderful chances during their last two trips. Although, Lara was still around the West Indies team was much weaker than even the one India had visited in 2002. The bowling was piecemeal and Ramnaresh Sarwan, Chris Gayle and Chanderpaul still did not contribute enough to the West Indian batting cause. However, Indians too were without Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar and Ganguly having been deposited in the wilderness, Dravid and Laxman held the key. It was a war of attrition fought on flat pitches in the peak of summer between two teams, one on the way up and the other trying its desperate best to recapture some earlier magic.

The first three tests ended in draws though the Indian pace attack bowled its heart out with good assistance from Harbhajan Singh and Anil Kumble. With a 146 at Gros Islet and other half centuries in the series, the skipper Dravid was in good form when the teams arrived in the Jamaican capital for the final test at the Sabina Park. On a pitch which Lara sarcastically applauded midway through his first innings – as it suited the Indian spinners more – Dravid contributed two masterful half-centuries. And despite Dinesh Ramdin’s late second innings flourish of 68, Kumble’s six-for gave Indians the game and with it a series win. Four tests and one result: India 1-0. If ever you wanted to watch a captain’s innings again, Dravid’s 81 and 68 would be top of the draw. On a pitch where sixteen wickets fell before his, “Dravid stood like a giant among pygmies,” wrote Siddhartha Vaidyanathan.

Another excerpt from Siddhartha Vaidyanathan’s report to cricinfo during the test sums Dravid’s efforts on a pitch with “landmines buried underneath” and Jerome Taylor steaming in – straight and fast: “The ball was dead straight and kept a bit low as well. Dhoni couldn't get down in time and was bowled.Two overs later, Dravid got a similar delivery, waited till the last moment, watched the ball all through and brought his bat down confidently. Taylor might as well have been bowling to the concrete structure behind Dravid; considering the effort he was putting in, he might have just been able to find a gap through it.” Beat that for technique, focus and resilience!

Along the way, Dravid joined an elite club of batsmen to get to 9000 runs. He was the Man of the Match and Man of the Series and nobody could grudge him that as he was streets ahead of the next best batsman in either team. The irony could not have been starker: it is crises which help distinguish men from boys. And the Indian captain was the tallest man standing at the end of the Jamaica test as India ended a 35 year series victory drought in the West Indies. From Adelaide to Headingley to Rawalpindi to Jamaica four of India’s five great wins abroad in the last three years all had Dravid’s name imprinted in bold. From a second fiddle to the chief artiste at the orchestra, Dravid had transformed himself from a good batsman to a great batsman to a captain leading from the front and with the undeniable force of on-field performance. And if at that point Dravid had thought the sky was the limit you would not have thought twice before nodding.   

Long Version Woes!

What is likely to happen when a colossus of 305 test matches and 454 completed innings yielding 24842 runs at a staggering 54.71 comes to be supplanted by complete vacuum or a commodity that is bound to look like vacuum anyway? The statistical edifice in question jointly refers to arguably the greatest no.3 and no.4 pair World Cricket has ever produced, responding respectively to the calls Rahul Sharad Dravid and Sachin Tendulkar. While the Indian middle-order’s mainstays’ turning 37 has seldom reflected in their form or appetite for runs or for that matter fitness (a lesson in commitment for upcoming youngsters), especially recently, the pragmatic will apart from basking in the glory of their legends’ extended stroke-filled sunshine have to start thinking about the Indian batting order’s future in tests. Forget about the rather inexplicable ICC rankings which are more responsible than India’s performances for its being ranked number 1 in test cricket, if the looming batting woes in the longer format are anything to go by India will do well to be in the top half of the table once the Karanataka-Maharashtra duo hang up their boots although to attribute a team’s success to the indispensability of even great geniuses is a rather fallacious argument. I hope the Indian test team proves it a fallacy!

The clarion call or the warning bell (choose your metaphor!), however, is clear: it is not based on one-off premonitions; nor am I a craven sports pessimist who glories in all things past without giving the current crop the due it deserves. Even as we lose ourselves all over again, pathetically, despite the lessons afforded by hindsight, in fortifying a squad for the upcoming world cup and unearthing more big-hitters, necessities in their own right, to lose sight of the transition that lies ahead for Indian test cricket speaks of a disturbingly purblind mindset. And just in case the argument needs any backing-up, the support comes from two quarters – the finest team of the last couple of decades, Australia, and the performances of our own rookie stars in recent tournaments.

It has been known for years that the supreme quality of cricket the Australians have played at the international level is just a logical extension of the quality manifest in the domestic competition, perhaps the toughest domestic league in world cricket. And yet, no right-minded Australian team-member, selector or fan would say (in the candour afforded by privacy at least) that a Gilchrist, Langer or Hayden is not being missed. Even with the notorious and prolific genius of Ricky Ponting, the reliability – despite its extended blip – of Michael Hussey, the effervescence of Michael Clarke and the bright start Marcus North has made to his test career, the Australian batting does not look nearly as formidable as three summers ago. Indeed, every sporting unit goes through a bit of a trough for ebbs and lows are but the very substance of Physics and life, but it is the way the unit picks itself up which defines its quintessence. While the Australians have not quite gone to the cleaners during the last few years, credit to the system envisioned by Allan Border and company at the ingress of the 1990s, that they have relatively struggled despite a rich pipeline of talent coupled with continued experience does not bode green pastures for the Indian battle order after Dravid and Tendulkar.

Analogous cases apart, the talent we have in our midst, as demonstrated in the shorter formats, does not look like it will stand up to the challenges of test cricket just yet. Ungainly handling of the short ball is just one of the worries; the glitch is technical and with practice could be bettered or worked around if not eliminated. But what about the aspect of temperament which readily reflects in on-field behaviour and fitness? Gifted and princely as he is, Yuvraj Singh’s career trail during the last season and half is a classic case of a trajectory that has plummeted because of a palpable disinterestedness or contrarily a tendency to become too big for his shoes, both of which speak of a man who has not got mind over matter. To see India’s best fielder let the ball through his legs or called as “pregnant” on twitter is painful but I am sure Yuvi himself sees the point. Rohit Sharma has promised and delivered, but either in flashy genius – like during the finals of the VB Series in Australia (2008) or the IPLs – or with extended periods of silence. Suresh Raina’s cross-batted heaves of anything resembling short stuff is indication that the talented left-hander who elicited comparisons with Tendulkar has a long way to go before he can think of even landing a test spot. Virat Kohli seems to have the right kind of head on his young shoulders along with a great mix of caution and aggression – but it is early days in the Delhi-ite’s career. As if players’ individual woes were not enough, the selectors seem reluctant to test out those people who have displayed obvious class and consistent ability to score runs.

It has been a couple of years since Sourav Ganguly’s exit and yet the persistence with Yuvraj is incomprehensible. The flirting outside the off-stump would not just do. Subramaniam Badrinath is a batsman in the classical mould who has scored tons and tons of runs for Tamil Nadu and yet does not seem to have impressed enough. Soon, he would become another one of those best never-to-have-played Indian middle-order batsmen and he is already in the wrong side of twenties one feels. Michael Husseys are picked only in Australia. Cheteshwar Pujara, unlike the middle-aged Badri, is just 22, has been incredibly prolific (with a first-class highest of 301!) but one hopes the selectors pick him sooner than later. There is no point in shielding people or giving them runs so short that nobody, least of all the player himself, has a chance to judge talent on a commonsensical basis. Sometimes, baptism by fire is the way to go.

Dravid’s and Tendulkar’s exits are not the only worries that should challenge an Indian fan’s imagination about the country’s future in tests. Laxman may not be around too long either but even if we assume that he will be around long enough to herd a new battalion of young talent and mentor them to some degree of maturity, the bowling still leaves a lot to be desired. Zaheer Khan has been rightly the spearhead for India in the longer format over the last five years but has been injury-prone; if he asks the right questions of his body and makes the right choices – like reducing if not cutting off participatin in limited overs cricket – there is an outside chance he may play four more seasons: two to three, however, seems more like it.

Harbhajan Singh his ‘economising success’ in limited-overs for Mumbai Indians and India seems to have unfortunately taken the T20 formula too much to heart for his and as well his country’s good: you frankly cannot expect to get wickets with Yorkers in test cricket and Graeme Swann, who has been better than Muralidharan and Harbhajan over the last season and half, has reasserted the simple magic of orthodox flighted off-breaks which can break through the best batsmen's defences (if Ricky Ponting despite his weakness against off-spin is a case in point). Harbhajan is smart and knows the value of flight himself  but sadly is not able to translate his thinking into deeds! To me he has not nearly lived up to his tag India’s first spinner since Anil Kumble’s retirement. Amit Mishra has been impressive but needs a senior person at the other end to work well in tandem – again case for Harbhajan to pull up his socks. Selectors and captains should reassess their rather unstated reluctance to pick left-arm spinners as well: Pragyan Ojha has according to be been India’s best spinner in the last two seasons and his non-selection for the T20 World Cup spoke of ineptitude as big as an overblown balloon. Ojha is still young but one only hopes that his does not become the case of Murali Karthik, hardly picked in the playing XI in Ganguly’s times, which only drove him to seek a livelihood in the cold county shores of England where the railways spinner has thankfully done well for himself proving a point or two to his former skippers and the selectors.

The fast-bowling reservoir looks rich, as rich as it has in many years, on paper with Sreesanth (will he ever become more civilized and therefore more effective?), Ishanth Sharma (Ponting’s punter who has since fallen back to mortality and realized that youth is not all jolly hunting), R.P. Singh (can he get wickets only under overcast conditions?), Munaf Patel (the Asif, if not McGrath, wannabe who looks as much of an enigma to himself as to the world), Irfan Pathan (who seems to have lost his swing, his most potent weapon, and pace) and others like Umesh Yadav and Ashok Dinda heralded by the IPL: clearly India’s most potent first attack needs to comprise Harbhajan, Zaheer Khan, Ishant Sharma and one or two more. But with two of the frontline bowlers themselves reduced to containment or their limitations and India’s flank not inspiring trust based on recent performances, getting twenty wickets against top class batting may become difficult especially on good pitches. And great test teams bad decently even on green tops and bowl out teams even on insipid belters!

Ironically, the one area which the current Indian selectors need not worry themselves thin over is one which gave past captains and selectors many a nightmare: with Sehwag and Gambhir, both extraordinarily consistent at the top and many years ahead of them, and a solid Murali Vijay always doing well whenever he has filled-in, the opening combination looks settled (abstracting from the vagaries and unpredictability the game stuns the players with from time to time). Yet elsewhere Dhoni – I think he is the best skipper we have had in years and all the recent crosstalk about the team’s failure as stemming from the captain himself betrays some ordinary thinking from brains in a position of unimpeachable responsibility and can be thought of as crass gmale-gaming gobbledygook – the selectors and the aging seniors themselves have to seek the right answers, and fast.

One thing I have personally suggested for a while, at least as regards the batting line-up, is for Tendulkar and Dravid to play alternate series so: (i) one of the two slots is vacated for test by a rookie; (ii) the youngster(s) can still have the opportunity of batting with one of the two greats, learning a thing or two in the process. Either the illustrious right-handers have not thought of it themselves or may be the selectors have not quite given them cues of such a possibility or choice. I feel we are already late as far as the grooming process is concerned but it is better to start late than never. As far as the bowling goes, I only hope that those at various levels in the fringes of selection work their own graphs towards a comeback. After all, success in sport for an individual like in much else depends a lot on personal commitment, resilience and desperation to get to the top. And for those like Yuvraj who have been to the top, and let it slip, there is a lot of soul-searching and inspiration-seeking to do. But in the form of Dravid and Tendulkar, men who have each seen several downs and raged or clawed out of them with incandescent or effective ups, our disoriented youngsters have the best epitomes. One only hopes that even if Indian batting goes through a low as an immediate consequence of Tendulkar’s and Dravid’s retirement, it is not an extended one. The insurance lies in the hands of our genuinely talented, and often extravagantly touted, youth. Hope they have seen the SOS and are listening!