The perils of looking at Rahane as the new Dravid

Sometime in the mid 2000s, there was a running joke between me and my college roommate that we could next expect Rahul Dravid to open fast bowling for India. Dravid, was at this stage, at the top of his game. He was the captain of team, he played a sort of floating role in the middle order in the one dayers coming in when required, he had kept wickets for an extended period in the past, he opened in Tests in Pakistan to accommodate his former captain Sourav Ganguly and almost broke the record for the highest first wicket stand. There was nothing, it seemed Dravid couldn’t do. More importantly, there seemed to be nothing Dravid was unwilling to do. The recent retirement of Kumar Sangakkara was accompanied by numerous tributes, most of them talking of his constant evolvement and improvement as a batsman. Dravid was another batsman of that generation not hesitant in tinkering with his technique, making small changes over the years and opening up his game in a way international cricketers are often warned against. It is perhaps no coincidence that both Dravid and Sangakkara are deemed as the most cerebral of cricketers of their time, not afraid to introspect, and managing to strike the correct balance in not overcomplicating the game for themselves.

The recent promotion of Ajinkya Rahane to No. 3 made me wonder whether in Rahane, we see the next Dravid. Since he joined the Rajasthan Royals, Rahane has been Dravid’s protégé. His statements in the press seem to cast Dravid in the role of a strong influence and trusted mentor. Much like a young Dravid, Rahane is the picture of earnestness, sincerity and studiousness. In team full of strutting young men, Rahane seems almost diminutive in comparison, given his light physique and a general lack of airs. It almost reminds you of Dravid’s as a quiet accumulator in a team of superstars. His recent stint as captain in Zinbabwe suggests he could be an able deputy to a brasher, more aggressive Kohli, like Dravid was to Ganguly. If his performance in the slips in the test series against Sri Lanka is anything to go by, he is also Dravid’s replacement at first slip. Those are some striking similarities and will have a number of fans salivating at the thought of Rahane taking over the most important role Dravid performed for years, that of a No. 3 Test batsman. But, this is where the similarities must end.

When Rahane emerged on the international scene, the first person he reminded me of was not Dravid, but characteristically opposite and longtime partner, Sourav Ganguly.  Rahane’s strokeplay, particularly his off-driving in the ‘V’ between point and mid-off is strongly reminiscent of Ganguly. He is like a right handed Ganguly, guiding, almost caressing the ball square of cover. Unlike Dravid and now Virat Kohli who get front and across at the slightest opportunity and commit to either the front foot or the back foot fully, Rahane, does not bother with taking giant strides on the front foot, nor does he shift his weight as appreciably when playing off the back foot. Rahane can often afford to do so because, like Ganguly he has great hands.  While this allows him to score at a brisk rate (though he has had some trouble piercing the in-field in the shorter format), it also means that often he is following the ball only with his hands and not his whole body. This makes Rahane particularly susceptible to late swing when the ball is new.

Which also brings us to the questions what an ideal No. 3 batsman should be. The three most successful No. 3 batsmen of recent times were Ponting, Sangakkara and Dravid. The Ian Chappell school of thought (which is the Australian way) posits that a No. 3 batsman must look to dominate. You come in either at the fall of an early wicket, in which case you attack to wrest back the initiative, or you come in after the openers have provided a solid platform for the others to dominate from. Ponting was as perfect a product of this philosophy as we have seen. He had a sound technique, a wide array of strokes and most importantly, he wanted to dictate terms to the bowlers from the word go. Dravid and Sangakkara, on the other hand often fought it out more in the middle, willing to look ugly and get through the tough passages of play injured but alive. Both could dominate in some measure once settled, Sangakkara more so than Dravid. Steven Smith, recently promoted to No. 3, is more in the Ponting mould, however, he has been found technically wanting when the ball is moving early in the innings. Ideally, you want your No.3 to provide the ideal mix of aggression and stability. The best No.3 currently, Hashim Amla provides you with that balance. Be that as it may, if the rest of the batting order is full of attacking batsmen, as was the case with Dravid, logic dictates that you look more for solidity in your No. 3 batsman.

Like the Australian teams that Ponting played, most current teams are opting for an aggressive approach to their cricket, be it India, New Zealand, or England. How India resolves the debate of the one down batsman will say much about the way Virat Kohli and his men want to play their cricket. Notwithstanding his hundred at P Sara Oval, Rahane at present does not seem to have the ideal technique to bat at No. 3 in England or New Zealand. Pujara, who till a year ago, had made the one down spot his own, has been out of form. Some people believe that unless the best batsman in the team is an opener, the best spot for him is No. 3. Like Dravid and Ponting, Kohli believes in leading from the front and had he succeeded in England, we may have seen him giving it a go. While Rahane is definitely a better person than Rohit sharma at No. 3, a Pujara in form, or a Kohli once he is more comfortable with taking up the challenge of the swinging ball, or even K L Rahul, are definitely better suited for the role in the long term. Rahane, given his ability to keep the scoreboard ticking in test matches, and increasingly growing into a leadership role in the team, may be better off with shepherding the lower middle order and the tail at No.5, like VVS Laxman did. 

Coming around to Kohli

In the last year and a half, I have, whenever I’ve found the opportunity, lamented the departure of the previous generation of Indian cricketers, and my inability to relate to the current crop of players. The definition of what is ‘cool’ in the sport had changed, and Virat Kohli embodied the new, brash and angry face of cricket; a face that I was not able to get on board with. A couple of seasons down the line, I have to admit a grudging admiration for Virat Kohli.

For those of us who grew up on Tendulkar, Dravid and Kumble, Kohli is not our kind of cricketer. He has neither Tendulkar’s grace, nor Dravid’s humility. He is intense and driven, but unlike Dravid and Kumble who were intense in a studious, self-assessing fashion, he is intense in the way you expect people with anger management issues to be. In that sense, there is more of a young Ponting in Kohli than his Indian predecessors. He has a cover drive as imperious as Dravid’s was ornate, or Tendulkar’s was textbook. His game off the pads, while not as pretty as Laxman’s, is equally, if not more effective. When Kohli bats, there is little to fault him, but even of his generation he is not the best talent. Sharma is better to watch, Rahane looks tighter in defense and strokeplay, and Pujara is temperamentally sounder. Yet in past couple of years, Kohli has managed to eclipse all of them by a long stretch.

He is the best one day batsman going around, even better, I daresay, than A B de Villiers. In the last twenty five years or so, we have had two kinds of one day batsmen who have been called great. The first kind were those in the Gilchrist/Sehwag mould. They usually opened, and gave their teams explosive starts. Jayasuriya started this trend, and openers across teams picked up on it. Then there were those in the Yuvraj Singh mould, the great finishers. Michael Bevan was possibly the first great of this kind, and M S Dhoni may be the finest exponent of this skill that we have seen so far. There have, of course, been those who could do both. Tendulkar, Ganguly, Sangakkara, Ponting could all do it; Inzamam was among the best. Kohli has, in last few couple of years, done it more consistently and better than anyone else. He has mastered the art of putting together the perfectly paced innings—he has no obvious weakness in the one-day game; scores at a brisk rate; rotates strike well; his strokeplay has power but is relatively risk-free; and he makes the most of it once he gets going, like great batsmen do. What makes Kohli not just a very good player but a truly dangerous one, is his ability of get into a space where both he and the opposition feel he can do no wrong. And, he has managed to do this with an alarming regularity. This is a skill which goes beyond mere cricketing ability. It has to do with the kind of self-belief most of us can only marvel at.

While Kohli has been an exceptional one day player for some time, he has found the going in test cricket tougher. Perhaps as a result of that, as a spectator, I have found more joy in Kohli’s stint in test cricket than I have in one-day internationals. With so much cricket being played, what gives the game and its players memorability are the narratives woven around them. The story of Virat Kohli—ODI champion—overcoming his initial struggles and growing into test cricket is a more compelling one. After a disappointing debut in West Indies in 2011, he was dropped for a few tests. But since his maiden hundred in Adelaide last time India toured Australia, he has looked better with every tour, barring the terrible time he had against James Anderson in England this year. His century in South Africa in 2013 was a comfort for those of us very aware of the tour being India’s first without Tendulkar in over two decades. For once, Kohli’s celebration on reaching the milestone had more joy than anger. Even his struggles against the moving ball in England this summer, while not pretty to watch, may prove to be a blessing in disguise. Test cricket is meant to be hard and long. The truest test of character is in overcoming adversity and bouncing back from failures. The twin centuries in Adelaide last week were largely chanceless knocks where Kohli played at a plane altogether different from those around him. The responsibility of captaincy seemed to inspire him to produce something special, and he relished every challenge thrown at him by the Australians.

The churlishness that marked him when he was younger seems to be on a tighter leash now. His send off to Chris Rogers in the last test was ugly and, in the context of the game, childish; but such incidents are far and few in between these days. What one liked at the end of this match was his readiness to give credit to the other team where it was due. His press statements are now almost charmingly candid, even self deprecating at times, as evidenced by a most amused Dravid interviewing him after the Adelaide test. As future captain, it is likely he will cross the line once in a while, and will never have the statesmanlike bearing of a Kumble or Steve Waugh. What he has, though, is the air of a man who means business. The chilling stare which his partner receives when Kohli is at the receiving end of a mix up while running between the wickets is now well documented. The aura of Kohli has now successfully grown from that of a brat to one who exudes danger. Most of all, Kohli brings the promise of combative cricket, which raises anticipation in the hearts of those who have followed one dismal overseas tour after another in the last three years.

Moving on

I had decided to write this piece when Tendulkar retired, however, what with him being out of form in the last one year, this has seemed less and less likely, I think I will get down to it. (I say less and less likely as Tendulkar, much like Gavaskar before him is too conscious of his legacy to not retire on a high) To loosely borrow from Nick Hornby, I fell in love with the game of cricket as a boy much as I was to fall in love with women later. It was a miserable and desperate sort of love, obsessive in its need to love and driven not so much by even a desire to be loved back but by its revelry in a narrative built around torment and heartache, which elevates an otherwise mundane existence to a thrilling albeit self absorbed suspense and high drama.

Growing up as a 90s cricket fan in India was an education in character building and perseverance. The story begins with (and will end with) Sachin. Indian batsmen have traditionally scored heavily in their own backyards. But, it is the overseas knock, often scored in the face of adversity, shoring up one end while the others around you wilt, that separate the men from the boys. Sachin, though was always special, the boy wonder, the slayer of the wily veteran Abdul Qadir at 16, scoring an overseas hundred at 17 and most famously, standing tall in all of his five foot five frame at the chin music haven at 18. The legend of Tendulkar had been established that day in Perth and his subsequent conquests - neutralising Shane Warne at Chennai, the twin centuries at Sharjah, the six over third man off Shoaib Akhtar in the 2003 World Cup, counter-attacking Dale Steyn in Capetown, the endorsement from the Don himself, and the sheer monstrosity of numbers were just further chapters that crystallized and built on the myth that had been born during his teens. He was consistently at the core of the narrative, Arjuna amongst the Pandavas, the proverbial hero.

The support cast included the much lampooned Anil Kumble. An engineer Bangalore, Kumble was the rare legspinner, never easy on the eye. Not for him was the soaring flight that would draw the batsman out only to be beaten, he couldn't spin the ball square, he bowled mostly straight yet the batsmen continued to miss it such was the precision, subtlety and perseverance of his art. Kumble also understood the value of constant evolution, adding to his repertoire every few years. Dravid and Ganguly joined them a little later. Co-debutantes who could not have been more dissimilar in their approach of the game or the way they played, yet they formed a fine marriage for years. You add Laxman and Sehwag to the mix, men with mercurial talents and oodles of self belief, one a wristy artist, prettier to watch any other cricketer when on song and the other, primitive and uncomplicated in his approach of "see ball, hit ball", and you had the core actors in stories. There were others filling in for supporting roles, Srinath and Prasad, overworked fast bowlers of limited talent, Harbhajan and Yuvraj, young men who never grew up, the highly skilful yet underachieving Zaheer Khan, to name but a few. 

This was not a team with a lot of options. There were no menacing fast bowlers, no bench strength to allow for any degree of rotation to share the workload, no imposing openers till Sehwag turned up. But they won often in India, and managed to compete abroad. They weren't champions, never dominating sides out of the contest, but scrappy men who didn't stand down from the fight like their predecessors. This was also a largely middle class and cultured team. The leadership comprised men from cities, mostly from middle class backgrounds, cerebral men who took pride in their talents but largely underplaying their larger than life status. Importantly, they had lost the gentility which accompanied most Indian teams before, often in awe of the opposition, and expecting to lose. But they did not believe in posturing for the opposition. 

It is both fortunate and unfortunate when the nucleus and the narrative of the team is built entirely around men who are the same age, for they pick up and leave pretty much at the same time. The follower of the game is left slightly unprepared especially when it is accompanied by sudden cultural shifts. The definition of what is cool in sport should change gradually or it makes relatively young people like us feel very old. I can applaud all the talents of Viral Kohli and he is indeed, the future, but the slew of invectives he leaves behind in his trail every time he exits, belongs, for people in my generation, in the playground when you are ten, not on the poster boy of Indian cricket. Similarly, MSD is as cool as they come, in anybody's books, but he is not a real test cricketer. It gets to a point when you don't really know what to root for.

When Sachin retires, my interest in cricket will, I think, become largely academic. I will continue to follow the game but I will lose the sense of obsessive drama that the game has always carried for me. I did not expect to feel quite so old at twenty five.

Where I wax existential about the nature of Test cricket

I haven't written anything cricket in a while. India managed to beat Australia in 3 days and one session. Are we that good or is Australia that bad? And if things continue in the same vein in this series and we win four-zip, what does it prove? Is Australia as rubbish in playing in the sub-continent as India is playing on bouncy pitches with lateral movements? Or is it that the creaking terminators in the Indian team, all but one (he who I have taken a policy decision not to discuss) have been replaced by youth, energy and exuberance? 

Has Ravichandran Ashwin evolved since the drubbing down under or as he claimed back then that he didn't really have a dismal tour, he is doing pretty much the same thing, aside from having inherited something in the vicinity of Laxman's ghost when he plays a back-foot off drive ever since Laxman traded the whites for the blazer and the sublime strokeplay for awkward analysis? Does Australia have truly no replacements for Ponting, Hayden, Langer, McGrath, Lee, not to mention Warne or this generation merely needs to go through what teams (even the Australian ones) routinely did while touring India in the 90s? Can Murali Vijay bat on a seaming Mohali pitch, let alone at WACA or Wanderers?

In a cricket as in life, there are a few near certainties. Cheteshwar Pujara is clearly the cat's whiskers in the current crop young men wearing whites. He is not quite the new Rahul Dravid yet, for one he looks a bit like a snake and is nowhere as pretty nor is his strokeplay as ornate. His hook shot requires some work before he jets off to bouncier foreign shores. But two double hundreds and an average of close to 70 clearly indicate that he is going to be around in that No. 3 spot for some time to come. Ravindra Jadeja is still not much more than a hairdo on any pitch where a flat trajectory won't turn and jump like it does on Indian dustbowls. Plus triple hundreds in the Ranji notwithstanding, we are not convinced he can really bat at the Test level. 

The Year of Deaths

That this has been the cruelest year in recent past, there is no doubt about. 2011 has seen the deaths of, among many others, the world's most wanted man, the world's most innovative entrepreneur in the digital age, the world's last real royal cricketer, the subcontinent's most popular ghazal singer, the dictator of the most paranoid and heavily armed nation. There are still six days to go before the year ends, and given how things are going, this post may yet be premature, but I will attempt to map the noteworthy and nebulous of this year's innumerable demises.

Creepy Death of the Year: Mikey Welsh (1971-2011)

The former bassist of Weezer predicted his death on twitter pretty much down to the last detail. He tweeted 'dreamt I died in Chicago next week' prophesying the time and location of his death. Other creepy details included his prediction of one his art works appreciating in value 'exponentially' seemingly on account of his imminent death.

Most Mourned Death: Steve Jobs (1955 - 2011)

He, of the turtleneck sweaters and keynote speeches. Jobs created a corporate cult like no other, so much so that we did not care that there might be cheaper products with more features. This, he did by creating products which were gorgeous and came with the most intuitive, user-friendly interface. For this, the day he died, falling prey to pancreatic cancer, which he tried to treat with hippie alternative medicine, the number of mentions of his name online were - 3834301 on Twitter and Friendfeed, 47215 on blogs, 65630 on Forum Replies, 28160 on Facebook, 9221 on mainstream news, 27802 on Comments, 1361 images and 1719 videos.

High Profile Death of the Year: Osama Bin Laden

Given the extent to which the last decade has been connected in one way or the other to this man, the bad-ass manner in which his execution was carried out, the extreme reactions his death evoked and the conspiracy theories about his death, this has to be the most high profile death in a long time.

Disturbing Death of the Year: Muammar Gaddafi (1942-2011)

The dictator of Libya since 1969 was literally hunted down from a drainpipe, disrobed, rolled around the ground, sodomized by a bayonet, and shot to death while most of it was captured on video.

The "Having Done it All" Deaths of the Year: Elizabeth Taylor (1932-2011) and Dev Anand (1923-2011)

Liz Taylor went through eight husbands and 20 major surgeries, became a grandmother at the age of 39, lost and gained weight like yoyo, pushed the envelope on female sexuality onscreen, broke her back multiple times, fought alcohol and prescription drugs addiction, survived scares of brain tumor and lung cancer and fought for Jewish causes most of her life. 

Dev Anand broke his way into stardom on back of an offscreen romance with Suraiya, and went on to become one of the biggest stars in India ever. At his best when playing morally ambiguous characters, Dev Anand's style of acting was something out of a 30s screwball comedy with rapid-fire dialogue delivery and vigorous head bobbing. The highlights of a his very long career included giving Guru Dutt his break, adapting RK Narayan's classic, opposing Emergency and continuing to make movies till he died undaunted by how bad they were. His lasting legacy though is having more great songs picturised on him than any other actor in the history of the world. 

Personal Mention: Mansur Ali Khan Pataudi (1941-2011)

The celebrity death that grieved me the most was that of Tiger. Tiger was the most romantic of cricketers, a one eyed-aristocrat, succeeding to the throne at the age of 11, handsome, proud, battling comparisons to his very illustrious father, groomed the famed spin quartet in the late 60s, romanced and married the classiest actress of his time, sired a son who grew into one of the finest actors of this age, had more wit and charm in his brief foray into cricket commentary and writing than the entire cast of ESPNStar, and led Indian cricket with more pride than anyone before him and less vitriol than the likes of Gavaskar and Ganguly who followed him. It was even more sad than his death came at the back of India surrendering the trophy instituted in the honor of his family in the most abject fashion.

Stereotyping Dravid

I write this as the second day's play ends in the Test-match at Trentbridge. I wrote an article on Cricinfo comparing Dravid and Ganguly a couple of years ago in which I predicted that Dravid may not have a swansong end to his career for the one thing he lacked which his co-debutante had in plenty was a sense of timing and occasion. Over the last two years, watching Dravid falter against good bowling attacks on most occasions, I feared that I had been right. Whether Rahul Dravid is scripting a fairy-tale final few chapters of his career or this is a second wind that may yet last another season or two, only time will tell. What his last three centuries have done is reinstate my belief in something that has been true for Dravid through most of his career. He is the most constantly evolving batsman of this generation.

One of my major grouses in recent years has been how unimaginative and cliche-ridden cricket journalism, in general and cricket commentary, in particular has been. I have always believed Rahul Dravid to be a prime victim of this. Over the years, he has been stereotyped as the defensive wall in a line up of more attractive and flamboyant stroke-makers. I am really tired of expressions like solid, orthodox and straight-from-MCC-coaching manuals being used to describe Dravid's technique. These descriptions are not only inaccurate but have been a disservice to Dravid, for by stereotyping him as such, we have made him too easy and consequently, boring to analyse.

Dravid is a defensive batsman, an old school batsman who puts a greater price on his wicket but he is not an orthodox batsman. An orthodox technique is based largely on the idea of economy and efficiency of movement. Dravid's technique is his own. He gets beside the line of the ball rather than behind it like say,  Tendulkar, a much more orthodox batsman, does. He has a high back-lift which comes down at an angle from the direction of the third man, something the coaching manuals would frown upon. Most Indian batsmen like Tendulkar, Sehwag and Laxman rely greatly on a steady balance for strokeplay. Dravid has always been more in the mould of Lara and Ponting in his high backlift and shuffle. Yet, unlike them and other batsmen with high backlift like Yuvraj and Yusouf, Dravid doesn't rely on great bat speed. His bat comes down more cautiously, more watchfully and with lesser flourish. He plays often with an angled bat outside the off stump, a recipe for disaster on seaming tracks some would say, but Dravid makes it work by watching the ball till the last moment and softening his grip if the ball jumps or moves away late.

What makes Dravid's technique work, especially his method of getting beside the line of the ball is that he plays the cricket ball later than I have seen anyone do. This allows him to control the height better and the angle at which is bats meets the balls most often ensures that he keep it on the ground. That is what ties together his entire technique. Everything he does, every adjustment he seems to have made over the years seems to be devoted to that one objective of keeping the ball on the ground. This is what makes his technique so different from any other batsman. 

An aspect of Dravid's batting largely ignored around all this talk of him being an orthodox, defensive wall is his strokeplay. Lara, who I always thought was the most attractive strokemaker of this generation was all about the high back-lift, great bat-speed, twinkle toes and an extravagant flourish. He brandished his bat like a sword, swiping and thrusting. Dravid's strokemaking lacks that violence but is replaced by an ornate quality. His batting is a lot about the curves and angles that his bats makes. It has a carefully constructed beauty as opposed to Laxman's careless drives and flicks, which often escapes us for Dravid, being the wall is not associated with beauty. His on-drive in second only to Mahela Jayawardena's in modern times. His bat comes down at its usual angle and he plays it very late, his front foot across and his entire body leaning on it with the ball right under his eyes. He plays a prettier late cut, I believe than anyone else in this era. Dravid likes to get on to the front foot and commits to an early front foot movement on all his strokes, yet he manages to not get scissor-footed which most who get the front foot across right away might be wont to. For the late cut, once he picks the length, he rocks back using the depth of the crease, shifts his weight on the back foot and plays it very fine and late. 

But the most important feature of Dravid's technique is its constant state of evolution. For instance, in the last few months, with his reflexes having slowed down, he shuffles much less, staying on the leg-stump and looks to score much more through the steer to the third man. He is undoubtedly someone very deeply aware of his game and more than anything else that is what makes me doubt my prediction of two years ago. Someone who tinkers with and works on his arsenal in such detail even at this stage certainly continues to enjoy his game. This could well be Dravid's second wind.

Disappointments

In 1951, there wasn't a more passionate rivalry in sports than between the Brooklyn Dodgers and the New York Giants. Giants fans hated Dodgers fans. Dodger fans hated Giants fans. Fathers passed it onto sons! In August 1951, the Giants were 13 and a 1/2 games behind the Dodgers. That was considered insurmountable. But, Giants make a comeback and put together a streak unequalled in history, winning 37 out of 44 games and the last 7 in a row to end with a first place tie with the Brooklyn Dodgers. They play a play-off game to see who goes to the world series. The Dodgers had it won, until a guy named Bobby Thompson hit what since has been known as the 'shot heard 'round the world' to win the game 5-4. Russ Hodges, broadcaster immortalised the hit with his famous words, "The Giants win the Pennant!!The Giants win the Pennant!!The Giants win the Pennant!!The Giants win the Pennant!!"

In an episode of Sports Night, not surprisingly titled "The Giants Win the Pennat, The Giants Win the Pennant", Issac Jaffey recalls how he attended the game in 1951. He had been in the press-box standing all through the game for there was no place to sit. Ralph Branca was notorious for taking his time warming up and Issac rushed to the men's room knowing he had time. Except Branca warmed up a lot faster that day. Issac didn't see the home run. 

Only a true sports fan can understand the mammoth disappointment of missing an event like that. Imagine, if you can, being there and yet for some reason not being there for Dhoni's emphatic six off Nuwan Kulasekara to win the World Cup. 

Top 5 Supporting Acts

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be; 
Am an attendant lord, one that will do 
To swell a progress, start a scene or two 
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool, 
Deferential, glad to be of use, 
Politic, cautious, and meticulous; 
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse; 
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous— 
Almost, at times, the Fool. 

- T S Eliot

No. 5 Jude Law for The Talented Mr. Ripley, Wilde, A.I., Sherlock Holmes, Road to Perdition, Gattaca - I have always liked Jude Law. He is handsome, has a wide range and is a fine actor. Yet, for some reason, he is yet to carry a big film on his own and is most comfortable playing second fiddle to other actors, which admittedly he does often to perfection.

No. 4 Amitabh Bachchan in Anand - Rajesh Khanna was at the peak of his powers and nothing could have conceivably stolen the thunder from him in essaying the eponymous role which gave him the sufficient scope for his histrionics. Yet, at some point mid-way we realise that the movie is actually revolving around the unfashionably depicted quiet, intense, idealistic Dr. Bhaskar Bannerjee. Rajesh Khanna is everything you can expect as the effervescent, over the top, dying cancer patient but it is the Amitabh's portrayal of the physician's frustration and the friend's pain that touch us the most.

No. 3 Derek Fowlds in Yes Minister/Yes Prime Minister - In what was both Paul Eddington and Nigel Hawthorne's career defining roles, Derek Fowlds stars as Bernard Woolley. He is the most conscientious character in the show and usually must juggle his loyalties to the minister and the principal secretary often leading to very interesting situations. This show involved many amusing series long-winded lines from both Eddington and particularly Hawthorne which would usually end with a one-liner from Fowlds which would be the funniest.

No. 2 Rahul Dravid for the last decade and a half - From his first steps in test cricket when he scored a 95 to co-debutant Ganguly's 131, Dravid has made it a business to do a great job only to be overshadowed by someone else. His supporting acts include among others, the 180 in Kolkata in 2001, his two highest one day scores and the distinction of being involved in the maximum number of century partnerships with Tendulkar. As someone who prefers to remain in shadows himself, I have always felt a sense of kinship and fondness for Dravid and perhaps that is why he remains my favorite cricketer. 

No. 1 James Stewart in The Philadelphia Story - This movie stars Kate Hepburn in a role written for her and intended to relaunch her after she was branded as 'box office poison' and Cary Grant at his handsome best. Yet, it is Jimmy Stewart, not a big name when he cast after Spencer Tracy, Hepburn's first choice turned down the role, who steals the show as Macauley Connors, the rapidly-talking, middle-class writer turned tabloid reporter bristling with every contact with the idle rich. His hiccoughing drunken bit with Cary Grant and 'holocausts and hearth-fires' bit with Kate Hepburn are absolute gems.


Honorory Mentions: Lord Emsworth in the Blandings Castle stories by P G Wodehouse, Iftekar in his various roles as the gentlemanly police officer in the 1970s, Naseer and Om Puri as the cops(witches) in Maqbool, Claude Rains in Casablanca, V P Menon for his role in integration of independent India, Deepak Tijori for his inhaler-sniffing-real-brains-behind-the-plot role in Khiladi, Naseeruddin Shah in Ardh Satya.

The Flamboyant Eleven

Recently, there has been a spate of articles on different kinds of World 11s on Cricinfo. Aside from the usual, there have been some fairly interesting elevens chosen by Ram Guha and Ian Chappell. Cricketers are dour characters, compared to others sportsmen like footballers and tennis players. So, I thought I would come up with a list of the most flamboyant cricketers, crickets who were not only swashbucklers on the field, but lived life on the edge off it and captured public imagination like few others did.

Herschelle Gibbs - When in form, Gibbs was the most exciting South African batsman to watch post their reinstatement in international cricket. He had natural flair, was a sweet timer of the ball, not afraid to take the aerial route as evidenced by his six-hitting spree in the 2007 World-cup and at his best playing in the cover region. He was never a favorite of the coaches- not fond of net practice and believing in playing more by instinct than anything else. Off the field, he often courted controversy, being hauled for smoking marijuana and making racist comments and most notoriously, for being involved in the match-fixing scandal. As it turned out, he was not very reliable as a fixer, either, scoring a matchwinning 74 in the game he was supposed to throw.

Geoff  Boycott - Many would dispute this choice for Boycott was anything but an exciting cricketer on field, known for his soporific batting. Yet, off field he remained an extremely unpopular and controversial figure for England's most accomplished batsman of the era, uncompromising in the way he played his cricket. He was known for his bad running between the wickets and his tendency to scream at his partner like a virago during mix-ups, getting a lot of his partners run out during his time. He went on a self imposed exile for a few years, while at the peak of his powers, probably due to being overlooked for English captaincy. Later in his career, he excused himself from fielding in a test match in India citing illness as the reason but was out playing golf while his teammates were still on field, later claiming he went to the golf course to get some fresh air on medical advice! Finally, he was banned for organizing a rebel tour to South African which ended his career. After retirement, he developed a successful career as a commentator, opinionated and often caustic. In his late life, he also revealed a Rhett Butler side to him, claiming he was being sued for assault by his former girlfriend as he refused to marry her, for he was 'not the marrying kind.'

Viv Richards - King Viv, widely acknowledged as the most destructive batsman ever to have played the game and probably the best player of ferocious fast bowling. Like Gavaskar, he never wore the helmet even while facing the like of Lillee, Thomson, Imran, Hadlee or the famed qaurtet of his own side. The word 'swagger' has not been used to describe anything more aptly as Richards' presence at the crease. He looked relaxed, with a ready smile and a general air of disdain. He was at times a fairly interesting character off the field; his affair and love-child with Neena Gupta are stuff of folklore but the incident that stands out for me is Richards scoring three ducks as a 16 year old in a domestic match. He was out for a duck in the first innings but refused to leave the field causing a mini-riot that he had to be recalled and scored another duck. He came back in the second innings and was out again for naught.

Brian Lara - Lara was the most stylish and easily one of the two best batsmen of his generation. Unlike Sachin, he was much more flashy with an extremely attractive back-lift and had the capacity to attack for extended periods of time. Where Richards was brutal, Lara used to dazzle and there was an air of performance about his batting. Off the field, he was often controversial with his love-child with a journalist, problems with authority and tiffs with the cricket board over sponsorship contracts.

MAK Pataudi - Tiger Pataudi was a prince - handsome and an attractive stroke maker, son of  probably an even more accomplished batsman whose early death made him a Nawab at the age of 11, a one-eyed aristocrat who was then the youngest captain ever, married to the most glamorous actress of his age; everything about him had an air of romance which is exactly what the star-starved Indian fans needed in the 1960s. He was a very good batsman and would have been a great one but for the loss of one eye and led a weak team with a lot of pride.

Imran Khan - Imran at his peak could take the pitch out of equation, bowling full and swinging both the new and the old ball at a ferocious pace. Possibly the best all-rounder since Sir Gary Sobers, this speaks volumes for he played in the era of Botham, Hadlee and Kapil. He was an inspirational captain for Pakistan, always leading by example but could also be a divisive figure with his equation with Javed Miandad and his controversial speech on winning the World Cup. Off the field, there have been many faces of Imran, a regular in the London partying scene in his youth to a philanthropist to what would many would regard, as a failed politician.

Ian Botham - Sir Beefy is the ideal candidate for this team. He was, according to Mike Selvey, a double-O cricketer with a license to thrill. Botham was already a legend before he made his international debut. As a teenager, he had been hit by an Andy Roberts bouncer. Where others would have retired hurt, he spat out his broken teeth and won the match for Somerset. He was a man of extremes, who could be best in the world on his day but constantly in trouble over smoking marijuana, public spats with Imran Khan, Peter Roebuck and Ian Chappell and extra-marital affairs.

Godfrey Evans - Among the finest keepers the game has seen, Evans was the first to make tumbling while taking a catch fashionable. According to Herbert Strudwick, he sometimes made simple catches look difficult, yet made the nearly impossible look easy and was one of the rare keepers to fling themselves infront of the wicket to take the bat-pad catches. He was an interesting charcter off the field too, always full of energy, settling down with a drink for an evening at the piano after a hard day's play.

Shane Warne - Warne was the coolest cricketer of his generation, a rockstar. For someone who just takes a couple of steps to wicket and bowls, he could bring a surprising theatrical element to his bowling - getting the crowd behind him, sledging, playing mind-games and plotting the fall of batsmen. Be it his first Ashes ball, the traumatising of Daryl Cullinan or his ominous observations about Gibbs' tendency to throw the ball much too quickly after catching it, Warne was coolness, personified. Off the field, he always kept himself in news with his text-messages, smoking, declarations of yet another mystery ball or ruminations on John Buchanan.

Shoaib Akhtar - At worst, he couldn't really do much apart from hitting a teammate with a bat, allegedly slapping the coach, getting caught for ball-tampering and talking in a weird accent. At his average, he could turn in an odd fiery spell for Kolkata Knightriders and maybe, beat Salman Khan in a race. At his best, he left Dravid and Tendulkar dumbfounded and turned in the most exciting run up I have ever seen.

Dennis Lillee - Considered by many as 'the complete bowler,' Lillee combined talent with showmanship. He scarily fast and an exponent of swing and cut. His career almost ended when his back break down, yet he returned after months of physiotherapy and a remodelled action to becomes one the best ever seen. He also took time off from all this to get an aluminium bat made, kick Miandad and almost cause Gavaskar to stage a walk-out.

25 Random Things About Me

1. I find things distasteful very easily - perverted jokes, slapstick comedy, metal, too much ginger but I almost never find something physically disgusting;  blood and gore, ugly pornographic scenes, bad hygiene, people taking a dump, poultry getting butchered - none of these would bother me, say, while I am eating.

2. I truly believe that as I get older I will grow handsomer, i.e. unless I go bald.

3. I have a thing for people's ears. I notice them, I compare them, I remember people by them and I like ear jewelery on women.

4. As a child, I was tricked into believing that Nana Patekar is a dwarf and that he stood on a stool to give his takes, which was later touched up by special effects. I believed it for longer than I am proud of.

5. For someone generally mild mannered and non-confrontational, I got into more than my share of fist-fights through high school. I don't know why.

6. For as long as I can remember, my most innate desire has been to be a cricket analyst. Someday, I want to have a blog on Cricinfo.

7. I am remarkably untouched by anything spiritual in nature. Nothing religious or spiritual ever moves me and I am completely untouched by the question of the existence of god. I sometimes find that strange.

8. From 1998 to 2006 i.e., roughly from the age of 11 to 19,  I went through a no tears streak. I did not cry even once in that period.

9. Significant influences in my adolescent years included The Godfather(novel),  Ayn Rand, Atticus Finch, Rahul Dravid, the Angry Young Man movies of Amitabh Bachchan, Letters from a father to a daughter by Nehru, Galahad Threepwood and Norman Lewis.

10. Despite having a deep baritone, I shriek girlishly in a high pitched voice when taken by surprise or in pain. Why this happens remains a mystery to me.

11. I like to collect trivia on any subject of interest to me. I spend hours on Google and Wikipedia.

12. I think VVS Laxman is the most gifted batsman I have ever seen bat.

13. I am not a big fan of the movies Bollywood churns out but if someone says that a certain movie 'insulted their intelligence', I find it extremely annoying.

14. I am obsessed with The Beatles, Hugh Laurie, Rahul Dravid, Kate Hepburn, A Suitable Boy and the song Autumn Leaves.

15. I went to what was primarily a girls' school for quite a few years, as a kid.

16. I do not think that there is another book as full of wisdom as The Godfather. I believe it truly contains the answer to all the questions in life. In the words of Nora Ephron, it is the I-Ching, the sum of all intelligence.

17. James Stewart is my favorite hero of all time.

18. I have a sharp memory and am generally good  at remembering all sorts of dates, entire conversations, people's faces, movie dialogues, short stories and songs. I want people around me to create history so that I can chronicle it.

19. I have not read or seen any of Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Star Wars and Indiana Jones.

20. My favorite things would include the following - Billy Wilder's films, Salim-Javed's screenwriting, Nat King Cole's singing, Shane Warne's bowling, John Donne's The Expostulation, John Lennon's voice, the TV series BlackAdder, Bade Bhai Sahab by Premchand, the Beatles songs composed by George Harrison, Love Letters by A R Gurney, Jeremy Brett as Sherlock Holmes, the movie Dil Se, Ruskin Bond's essays, Rahul Dravid's late cuts, Amma's curd chicken dish and the Christopher Walken sequence from Pulp Fiction.

21. How Irfan Pathan could lose his prodigious swing bothers me a lot. Is it really possible? How can you know how to move a ball like that and forget it!?!

22. I enjoyed Biology a lot in high school. The cardio-vascular system was my favorite organ system.

23. English Breakfast is my favorite cuisine.

24. Wuthering Heights is my favorite classic.

25. My eyes are not particularly small. But they are deep-set and beady.

Leg spinners pose problems much like love,
Requiring commitment, the taking of a chance.
Halfway deludes; the bold advance.

Right back, there's time to watch
Developments, though perhaps too late.
It's not spectacular, but can conciliate.

Instinctively romantics move towards,
Preventing complexities by their embrace,
Batsman and lover embarked as overlords.

- Alan Ross

Looking into Sehwag's mind

Virender Sehwag is an exceptional man. Yes, we all know he is very talented, has excellent hand-eye co-ordination, great balance, can time the ball really well and hit it with immense power when he feels like. But you could say most of that about Suresh Raina as well. Sehwag is exceptional because he has an unusual brain. On a pitch where the ball was swinging in the air at one wet end and spinning furiously at the other cracked end, where Sachin, Dravid and Ganguly managed less than ten runs between them, where Muralitharan was at his sublime best and Mendis in the midst of one of the most sensational debuts for a spinner ever, he just batted through the innings for his 201 not out at an astonishing rate and rarely looked in trouble. The thing about Sehwag is that he comes across as an untutored, raw talent. He is pristine for he is largely untouched by any regard for history, conditions, coaching manuals or even conventional wisdom. Over the years, I have marveled as much as at Sehwag's batting as his approach to it seen through his comments, anecdotes and legends surrounding him.


In his book on Top 100 cricketers he ever played with/against, Shane Warne tells a very interesting story about Virender Sehwag (rank 35). During his county stint for Leicestershire, Sehwag was batting with Jeremy Snape. Abdur Razzaq, who troubled Sachin Tendulkar so often was getting the old ball to reverse swing a fair bit causing all sorts of problem for the batsmen. Sehwag discussed his strategy with Snape to counter this and says, "I have a plan." He promptly hits the ball for a huge six out of the stadium so that they have to now replace it with a new one.


In his Wisden article on Sehwag, Ganguly wrote that to find out how Sehwag approached batting, one needed to sit with in the pavilion and watch another batsman on-field. Most balls are punctuated with comments of "Chhakka gaya, Chowka gaya" (Six missed, four missed)ruing missed scoring opportunities.


Yesterday Sehwag said, "I missed a big one in the last Test, so I didn't want to miss out this time." For those who have forgotten, he scored 131 in the last Test. King cricket in his blog comes up with a new system to apply adjectives to him.
"We’ve a new system:

* 100 = okay
* 150 = good
* 200 = very good
* 300+ and feats of rapid scoring = special adjectives reserved solely for Virender Sehwag

To knacker up bowling figures and careers is one thing. To knacker up the English language is going some."


Maybe the key to understand the way he thinks is his most recent comment. "I play each ball on its merit and try to hit only the bad balls," he said. "That's the key to my batting."
But, I prefer the peek into his mind he offered earlier this year when asked how he stayed focussed on field. He said, "I try to hum songs, bhajans, Sai Baba bhajans, Kishore Kumar songs, especially those pictured on Amitabh Bachchan, till the bowler is about to deliver. I try to sing songs as perfectly as possible in order to keep my mind completely uncluttered."

Does the Gentlemen’s Game mean the Batsmen’s game?

An opinion gaining momentum in the recent past is that the game of cricket is increasingly becoming more and more favorable to the batsmen. Flat, batsmen friendly pitches, smaller grounds, more and more protective gear for the batsmen, the powerplays, and some may argue, a fall in the standard of bowling since the 70s, though this is debatable, have all made cricket a batsman’s game. Yet, if we give it some thought, we will realize that the bias towards the batsmen is not a recent phenomenon but a traditional reality steeped in the very ethos of the game.

No other sport, to my knowledge at least has a moral dimension as pronounced as cricket. Most other sports are usually tightly bound by rules, leaving very little space for ethical dilemmas to creep in wherein the sportspersons have to exercise their own moral discretion. The standard for these sports is usually that whatever is not prohibited is mandatory. It is only in the game of cricket that there is a grey area not bound by rules, yet viewed with a certain degree of moral censure. If we examine these grey areas, we will realize that the moral attitudes are strongly biased in the favor of the batsman.

Whether to walk or not is probably the most oft-faced dilemmas faced by cricketers. It has been at the centre of considerable debate lately after Adam Gilchrist decided to walk in an important World Cup match and exhorted others to do the same. The basis of his argument is if the batsman knows that he is out, he is morally obliged to walk. Sunil Gavaskar, in his book, Runs and Ruins, spoke of an incident while playing in Pakistan when he was out first ball and not given out. He did not walk because he had been given out so many times in Pakistan when he was not, he felt they owed him a few. This is the other side of the argument espoused by most players including, Sourav Ganguly and Ricky Ponting. A parallel to the same would be to appeal for a dismissal while knowing that the batsman is not out. However, strangely the same moral standard is not applied to the two. It has even been codified and was included in the preamble of the Spirit of the Game. Section 5 states that appealing, while knowing that a batsman is not out is contrary to the spirit of the game. In one instance, it has even led to a wicketkeeper being suspended for three matches.

The traditional bias against bowlers has been so strong that that when the googly was invented by Bernard Bosanquet, there were many who felt it was unethical for the bowler to thus, deceive the bastman! Now, such a suggestion would seem ridiculous but it does throw some light on the inherent bias in the game. The reason behind this strange discrimination perhaps lies in the old class division between batsmen and bowlers wherein batsman were the real gentlemen, while bowlers, merely players. It is most apparent in the moral censure attached to Mankading. The batsman clearly gains an unfair advantage by backing up too much and leaving the crease, whether intentionally or otherwise and if an unfair advantage is accrued, there must be a sanction, too. The problem with this form of dismissal was perhaps that the bowler questions the motives of the batsman in backing up too far and such an accusation by a player against a gentlemam doesn’t bode well.

Why it is important to criticise Dhoni

So, the NZ tour has come to an end. For some strange reason, it is being called a final frontier. I would imagine that no Test series wins in quite some time in Sri-Lanka(not in a long time), Australia, South Africa(never), West Indies(not since 1971)would mean there are many significant frontiers to conquer. Dhoni's team won and we must congratulate them for it but then, an alternate result is not to be expected between the No.3 and No.8 teams in the world.

Dhoni has shown remarkable calm and poise as a captain and very importantly, seems to have the complete support of his team. He has also at certain times shown that he is not afraid of criticism, his 8-1 field placing being a case in point. But, he needs to improve a lot, tactically. For as long as I have watched cricket, I have felt the most glaring evidence of ours being a weak team is our inability to set attacking fields. When we finally have a team which is stronger than most, I mean, there can be absolutely no comparison between us and Vettori's team, why do we shy from attacking. Why have that sweeper in place always, why not put that extra slip against fast bowlers or close in fielder against Harbhajan Singh when you need one. And for God's sake why repeat the mistakes Ganguly committed in Sydney in 2004, Dravid in England in the final test in the 2007 tour, and Kumble in Adelaide. Why declare so late?


More importantly, I think it is important to criticise Dhoni when he falters for I detect a sort of attitude reminiscent of Sachin Tendulkar beginning to creep in where he is too sacrosanct and any criticism amounts to downright blasphemy. Dhoni has done a good job so far as a captain and one day batsman and is a fine ambassador for the game, too. But let's give him what he is due, whether bad or good.


On an aside, despite the fact that he did not do anything great in the test series, my favorite moment of the tour remains a Virender Sehwag special. The first three balls of the tour which were all sent sailing over midwicket for sixes. Even though India lost both the T20s (who really cares), it was a harbinger of the things to come. And, I think the bashing in one dayers also contributed to the insipid bowling of Southee and Mills in the tests, they could not get over it.

Roy replaces Shoaib

When I heard reports of Andrew Symonds involved in yet another drinking misdemeanor, I had to check the date of the report. So frequently has Symonds courted controversy that it has become tough to keep track. With Shoaib Akhtar out of the team for good(so it seems), it's time to crown Roy the undisputed king of controversial cricketers.

Hayden

Matthew Hayden retired yesterday. Hayden, who debuted in the early nineties but never really made his mark till the 2001 tour of India was not the kind of cricketer you like. At least I didn't. Built like a Bollywood villain's sidekick that you had to contend with before you got to the real bad guys, that is what I considered him for quite sometime till it was clear that he was the actual villain. Hayden scored a lot of centuries (30 to be exact) but never really captured my imagination like the Waugh brothers, Ponting, Martyn, Slater or even Langer, all batsmen much more fun to watch. Not only was he indelicate to watch as a batsman, he was also a smug, unpleasant character who I doubt ever won the affections of the rival teams or spectators. He was huge, bullish, and in your face and representative of all the things we hated about the Australians. He was also a fascinating orator and came up with the most entertaining or irritating comments especially in the last leg of his career. Here are some.

Some self effacing ones:

“The zone to me is pretty much every time I go out to bat.”

“As fine a cricketer as I am right now, I don’t think as a young player I had it right.”

“I think, more than anything, I am such a weapon here, because when I started attacking, they just got so defensive.”

“I think this series is tailor-made for guys like me.”

....some gay ones:

"We are always getting the pressure from behind us... I love playing with these blokes, and to me, I'm just not ready to let it go just yet."

...and the others, just bizzare:

“I want to see Ricky Ponting going like that when he wins and plays for Australia. That’s the heat of the battle, that’s Test cricket, that’s the enormous passion and enthusiasm that gets played from all games of cricket, you see it even in backyard cricket.”

“When I finish cricket I don’t want to have to be in a game where everything is robots and robotic.”

"I've never been in better shape. So to me it's a really good sign, not only in terms of where I'm at, but my commitment to the game and the commitment to the summer as well."

“Ultimately it will be my call to look at the bloke that talks to yourself every day in the mirror and say ‘mate it is time to go’ or ’saddle up, pull your socks up and get on with it, you’ve got South Africa and you’ve got the Ashes’.”

“That little voice deep inside will keep kicking Matthew Hayden along.”

“Matthew Hayden in 1991 worked as hard as he works in 2008. And that guarantees you at least the best result in terms of how you prepare yourself, but it doesn’t guarantee success.”

“We all enjoy celebrating. What has changed now is we have taken it to a new level in terms of dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s professionally.”

“When you get to my age, you get to a point where the next 12 months is a long, long way away.”

“In a lot of ways, to me off-field, if that’s affecting him that’s a good thing for Hayden because I don’t feel like I’m harbouring any massive resentment.” (something to do with Harbhajan)

“He obviously loves cricket and it’s so healthy to know I can be here and he can be there and we can mutually enjoy each others sports.”
(This about Usain Bolt!)

“At the end of the day, two alpha dogs are never going to sit in a cage and not look at each other. It is what it is. The way I see my cricket, if you’re the other alpha dog, you better not blink. I feel I’d be letting down my country if I was to blink.”


Still, the guy scored 30 centuries. That's more than Bradman, Richards, Boycott, Sobers, Dravid or Kallis. You've got to admire that. No, not admire, respect. Hmm..not really respect, acknowledge. Not acknowldge, resent. Yeah that's the word.

A tale of two cricketers

Never have the course of two Indian cricketers run parallel in a manner as remarkable as in the case of Sourav Chandidas Ganguly and Rahul Sharad Dravid. With Ganguly recently retired and if things don’t improve much, Dravid very likely to follow in his footsteps, this is a good time to reflect on their respective careers, both remarkable in their own right, but make even more fascinating a study when viewed in contrast with each other, something of the lines of the plot of many Jeffrey Archer novels.

Their rise to the Indian team prior to their Lords debut ran parallel. Dravid served out an extended apprenticeship in the domestic circuit as Karnataka’s mainstay evoking frequent comparisons from the local press to Vishwanath and Brajesh Patel. Ganguly, on the other hand was never a major run machine in domestic cricket like Dravid and Laxman and came into his own on the international stage only. Unlike Dravid again, who was serious about cricket from his schooldays, he simply came from a family of club cricketers and took to the game seriously only after he was selected for the disastrous tour of Australia in 1992. The tour started Ganguly’s brush with controversy as talk of his refusal to carry drinks surrounded him. He remained controversial for his entire career winning more foes than friends in the international circuit, was hugely unpopular in his county stints and incurred the wrath of match referees more than any other captain in living memory. Off the field too, Ganguly was the more dashing, eloping with his childhood sweetheart in the face of family opposition and his much publicized affair with Nagma, while Dravid remained the committed, model cricketer, diligent to a fault and correct to the extent of being boring.

The face of the Indian batting had always been that of a Bombayite. Right from Vijay Merchant to Dilip Sardesai to Sunil Gavaskar to Sachin Tendulkar to the much hyped Rohit Sharma, the city of Bombay has always staked a claim to the premier batsmen of any generation. The strength of the Bombay faction in the BCCI has always been paramount and has dominated the scene of Indian cricket, both on and off the field. Dravid and Ganguly were not only significant actors who were instrumental in breaking through the dominance of this clique and giving the Indian team a non-parochial face for the first time, they were themselves the most important part of it. That they replaced Vinod Kambli and Sanjay Manjrekar, two Bombay lads who were supposed to be the mainstay of our batting along with Sachin makes this all the more remarkable.

Their Lords debut was not the ideal platform for a youngster looking to ease into the team. On a fast, swinging track they came together with India in a spot of bother. They could not have been more dissimilar in style. Ganguly, later to be described by his partner at the other end as next only to God on the offside kept easing the ball through the point and cover regions. Dravid, then a predominantly leg side player relied more on playing off his pads. Ganguly, as we all know scored a century on debut and Dravid made 95. In the nest test Ganguly scored yet another ton and Dravid missed out yet again being dismissed on 88. This was to be a reflection of things to come as they grew into two of India’s premier batsmen. While Ganguly was the leading run scorer in ODIs till the turn of the century even beating Sachin for four out of five seasons, Dravid established himself as rock solid test batsmen. It was also to be Dravid’s fate for a large part of his career to be a pretty bridesmaid who gave numerous sterling performances only to be overshadowed by Ganguly or Tendulkar. The script continued into the new century when Ganguly was appointed captain and Dravid his deputy.

The Kolkata Test in 2001 was, in a sense the turning point in many ways for both, for Ganguly as a captain and for Dravid as a batsman. Hitting his way out of a slum in the most dramatic of matches must have given Dravid a lot of confidence as his star soared thereafter and he gradually came out of the shadows of his distinguished peers to become India most valuable player for the next half of a decade. He scored runs all over the world, adapted perfectly to the one day set up, filled in as a wicket keeper when required and was a great support of his captain. For Ganguly, this was the beginning of the golden period as a captain. He had the uncanny ability as a captain to back match winning performers and get the best of them.

Many believe that had Ganguly not been made the captain, he would have achieved a lot more as batsman. It is probable for the biggest problem with Ganguly’s batting was that it did not develop after a point. While Dravid and Sachin have constantly evolved as batsmen, made various adjustments to their game; Ganguly, once he has been sorted out, never managed to overcome his deficiencies.

It is universally believed that Dravid was a clearly inferior captain to Ganguly. I am not entirely sure. Ganguly introduced a lot of self-belief in his team and helped us get over out timid chokers tag and that was what we needed then. But, he was never a great tactician. He was easily rattled as a captain and many a times let the momentum slip through out of a lack of imaginative captaincy. Dravid, was a much more collected man on the field. His captaincy on the field always has more of method to it than Ganguly’s who was tactically always on the whimsical side especially with respect to his handling of spinners and part-time bowlers. But what Ganguly lacked in on field tactics, he more than made up through the way his communicated with his players and allowed them to flourish. Dravid tended more to lead by example through his own performances and commitment but despite the bulk of his runs never really had the aura of a leader.

While Ganguly left on high, scoring significant runs against the top team in the world in his farewell series, Dravid has so far doggedly stuck around in the midst of calls for his head. In the past month, many a sports journalists have made a living out of stories on the lines of “the Wall crumbling.” His century at Mohali notwithstanding, despite being full of character and a testimony to his tenacity, I have a feeling Dravid will not have a swan song end to his career. If there is one thing that he has lacked in his otherwise illustrious career, it is the sense of timing that his longtime colleague and once co-debutante has always had.

The Tragedy of being Rahul Dravid

When I was growing up, in the second half of 90s, Sachin Tendulkar was god. He still is god, many would argue (There are some others who might also argue I am still growing up!) but back then, we saw Sachin achieve the greatness many predicted he would since the first time he played international cricket and go beyond. He was a fearless competitor in an otherwise tame team and singled out the world’s best bowlers for special treatment, not the old warrior who is a sedate presence in the otherwise bunch of strutting youngsters that the Indian cricket team is now. That was Sachin, a performer at the peak of his prowess, now he is a veteran playing out his final symphony.

But I am digressing. While most around me loved Sachin, my adoration was reserved for the quieter, sedate, Rahul Dravid. Dravid debuted around the time I became obsessed with the game of cricket. While many speak of his solidity and consistency, I always thought he was a treat to watch. His on drives, his late cuts, his driving through the covers or through the ‘V’ are first rate not only in terms of technique but also had the stamp of an extremely stylish batsman.

Dravid has, for a while been one of those batsmen who lie at the fringes of the great batsmen of all time. Is Dravid an all time great batsman? Not too many would answer that in the affirmative. What makes a great batsman? Sachin most certainly is one. Lara and Ponting are the only two others who would qualify without any debate for the tag in their generation we look at the past two decades. Steve Waugh was highly respected as a leader and an ambassador for the game but would he qualify as a great batsman. For me, Waugh was someone who primarily thrived on scoring off short pitched balls outside his off-stump. That he scored so many runs is a testament to his hardiness and resilience. But while those are adjectives which fit well with Waugh, words such as brilliant, genius and great might elude him. Sehwag, I sometimes suspect might end up as a great batsman especially after performances like the one in the 2^nd Test in Sri Lanka a few days ago but he has some way to go before a debate on the same is required. Some time in the first half of this decade, Dravid looked as if he would cement his place as a truly great batsman. This was the golden phase of Ganguly’s captaincy and it wasn’t Sachin who led the way as the most shining star amongst the Indian batsman but Dravid. Be it ensuring we did not lose the test series in the West Indies in 2002 or his double hundreds in England, Australia and Pakistan, Dravid was the chief architect almost every time India won a Test match overseas.

But, then came the downfall. As a captain, he tried to lead by example in the first half of his tenure. He didn’t shy from opening the innings in Pakistan and almost set a record breaking partnership with Sehwag. He was for a while, out most consistent performer in both forms of the game. Then, came the downfall. The failure of his team started showing in his form, too. His image suffered a lot when it was felt he wasn’t assertive enough and let his coach run things. By the time, he quit, he was a burdened man who did not seem to enjoy his cricket. He even had to bear humiliation at the hands of his franchise owner, a shameful tale which was ignored by the cricket fraternity and media. In an age, where a new order threatens the old school, Dravid should have been seen as the harbinger of that change. It was he, along with Chappel who advocated a change in Indian cricket. Ironically, he represents the old school in the public eye and is the most vulnerable of our heroes in the last leg of their careers, to be slighted by the Chief selector and the new age private franchise owners.