"Wickets will keep falling because Rahul Dravid cannot be at both the ends " - so said a placard held by a young boy sitting on the shoulder of his father as he watched a rather familiar scene in Indian cricket started to unfold :
Rahul Dravid being in the middle during most dangerous phase on the first evening after Sehwag exploded and then extinguished. He was there to see Gambhir confounded by a pedestrian deliver; he was there during the tricky phase on the second morning. He was there to see the crowd giving a standing ovation to the Little Master as he walked in and again as he walked out ; he was there when Laxman blossomed; he was there when Laxman left; he was there when Yuvraj/Raina (and others lining up to fill the shoes of Ganguly ! ) tried to revive their Test career; he was there when they left; he was there to see Dhoni using his pads more often than his bat to defend and he was there when the lower order imploded in a short time . Dravid was always there.
For me, an ideal Dravid innings needs a most challenging pitch. The pitch should be covered with a inch thick layer of grass else be crumbling like powder. Cracks where you can put your finger through or a sandpit would be ideal - anything to make the ball behave like a demented cobra. If it’s a placid pitch with the ball coming on to the bat, give me Sehwag; if there’s a truly great array of bowlers set to be unleashed, give me Tendulkar. If it's Australians, give me Laxman. If it’s a minefield, give me Dravid.
Arguments are abound that he is last of his breed - a classical test batsmen. That there will not be someone to take the torch forward , that it will be impossible to find a younger player who prefers to glide the ball through empty corners rather than give the ball a good thrashing for 20 overs. A batsmen relying on his wrists rather than his shoulders will some be an endangered species some say.
The dread was omniscient after the disastrous tour of Australia, that he would adieu to the game that became his ideal. It soon became a reality on a hot evening when I check my messages and one said " Dravid set to retire ". My thumb grazed the screen of the mobile and a gentle smile figured on my face. Not for him a last test series to commemorate his 17 years of vigilance, a simple press conference would do. People say retirement is like death, you know when your time is up. The Grim would have become clearer as he walked off from The Oval where four years back he was the architect of India's first win in Australian soil.
I don't expect there to be another Dravid. He gave me the greatest joy I have ever got while watching a cricket match in TV or live. They don't come back, and that kind of unadulterated delight in what is, after all, a game, cannot be matched when childhood gives way to adulthood.
The Indian cricket will not miss you Rahul; they will yearn for you. Because you were the silent protector, the watchful guardian ,The White Knight.
Rahul Dravid being in the middle during most dangerous phase on the first evening after Sehwag exploded and then extinguished. He was there to see Gambhir confounded by a pedestrian deliver; he was there during the tricky phase on the second morning. He was there to see the crowd giving a standing ovation to the Little Master as he walked in and again as he walked out ; he was there when Laxman blossomed; he was there when Laxman left; he was there when Yuvraj/Raina (and others lining up to fill the shoes of Ganguly ! ) tried to revive their Test career; he was there when they left; he was there to see Dhoni using his pads more often than his bat to defend and he was there when the lower order imploded in a short time . Dravid was always there.For me, an ideal Dravid innings needs a most challenging pitch. The pitch should be covered with a inch thick layer of grass else be crumbling like powder. Cracks where you can put your finger through or a sandpit would be ideal - anything to make the ball behave like a demented cobra. If it’s a placid pitch with the ball coming on to the bat, give me Sehwag; if there’s a truly great array of bowlers set to be unleashed, give me Tendulkar. If it's Australians, give me Laxman. If it’s a minefield, give me Dravid.
Arguments are abound that he is last of his breed - a classical test batsmen. That there will not be someone to take the torch forward , that it will be impossible to find a younger player who prefers to glide the ball through empty corners rather than give the ball a good thrashing for 20 overs. A batsmen relying on his wrists rather than his shoulders will some be an endangered species some say.
The dread was omniscient after the disastrous tour of Australia, that he would adieu to the game that became his ideal. It soon became a reality on a hot evening when I check my messages and one said " Dravid set to retire ". My thumb grazed the screen of the mobile and a gentle smile figured on my face. Not for him a last test series to commemorate his 17 years of vigilance, a simple press conference would do. People say retirement is like death, you know when your time is up. The Grim would have become clearer as he walked off from The Oval where four years back he was the architect of India's first win in Australian soil.
I don't expect there to be another Dravid. He gave me the greatest joy I have ever got while watching a cricket match in TV or live. They don't come back, and that kind of unadulterated delight in what is, after all, a game, cannot be matched when childhood gives way to adulthood.
The Indian cricket will not miss you Rahul; they will yearn for you. Because you were the silent protector, the watchful guardian ,The White Knight.
No comments:
Post a Comment