A grey hair? Seriously?
I owe my love for cricket to my Dad. There are many things that I remember from my childhood that he probably doesn't. When Aquib Javed took the hat-trick at Sharjah, he explained to me outswingers and inswingers, how Aquib is a natural outswing bowler, and how he fooled 3 batsmen who were expecting the ball to go away and were done by the straight ball (it might have been incutters, but calling it straight ones helped him illustrate it better). The point is, my recollection of things learned in life coincides with my recollection of starting to watch cricket, right around 1989, when Tendulkar smashed Abdul Qadir in that practice game (believe it or not, I watched it live).
For the first few years, I believed that we were unlucky in not winning more than we did. I now comprehend that we had a fairly poor team. The last time I got teary eyed over cricket was in 1996, along with Kambli, after we lost the semi final at Eden Garden. What I now understand, is that we did a miraculous job of getting there, with only 2 players performing consistently. It was after that world cup that we started to become a decent team. And the entry of two of India's best cricketers that year wasn't a coincidence.
Ganguly is rightly credited to be the best Indian captain. He taught us something that we did not know, how to win. We knew how to play the game, we knew how to analyze it, but we did not know how to win it. He had the perfect deputy in Dravid. That India reached the world cup finals in 2003, owed as much to Dravid's wicketkeeping creating an extra player's slot, as it did to some of Tendulkar's fine innings.
There isn't much point in talking about Dravid's contribution to India's test match success. But three occasions deserve a mention. The first was THAT day at Eden Gardens. March 14th, 2001, I was hiding in my room near PICT college in Pune. It was Rangapanchami day, something that I don't particularly enjoy and the whole PICT hostel was out looking for people to color up. I was stuck to a radio (believe it or not, there was not a lot of internet around and we didn't have a TV in our room) following Laxman and Dravid's exploits. That was the day when India did not lose a single wicket and the rest is history. I went out at about 5pm and voluntarily participated in holi. That was the last time I did that.
Then there was Headingly, where I watched some part of Tendulkar's and Ganguly's hundreds, but was intrigued by Dravid's and Bangar's exploits on first day. To this day I rue not having watched the first day. Adelaide was monumental, more for Sir Aggy's (an endearing term coined by one of my friends for the legendary Ajit Agarkar) unexpected burst than Dravid's herculean effort, for we had started expecting such feats from him by then. But his truest masterclass came at Kingston, Jamaica, when, albeit against a weaker side, India won in West Indies for the first time in 35 years.
And then there was the disappointment of the 2007 world cup under Dravid's captainship. But my memory is of Pakistan's exit from that tournament than of India's. Mainly because Woolmer died during that time. I came back to my hotel room after interviewing with Amazon, and read on cricinfo that a murder case was registered at his hotel in Jamaica. It was spooky staying in a hotel room that day.
From there we went to England and won there, after which, against the run of play, Dravid resigned from captainship. I agreed with his "armchair fans" comment for not pushing for victory in the third test at the Oval. On the contrary, I have never agreed with Dhoni's explanation since then for not pushing for a test win after the series is won. I have found it as a missed opportunity to cultivate aggression. Tells you more about me than Dhoni or Dravid.
With 2 back to back away whitewashes, everyone expected some veterans to retire. Given the amount of time it takes to drag a bewildered Laxman from the crease after he gets bowled, one can only guess how much of an effort it will be for him to retire from test cricket. And with Tendulkar, there is no scope for an objective discussion. I am one of those who have watched test cricket over the last 2 decades in the hope that he scores more runs and centuries than Lara and Ponting and averages more than Kallis and Sanga. But if I was captaining a test team, I would write down Lara and Dravid on my batting sheet, before I would write Tendulkar. The point is, anything less than a countrywide festival would be deemed inappropriate as a sendoff to Tendulkar. And he would have to be inhumanly strong to deny that to his fans. So whether you are his fan or critic, there is no scope left for objectivity in analyzing him. I had expected Dravid to retire, retire on the back of a year, where he was as good as any in test cricket, retire without any fuss, something only he can pull off.
Coming back to my dad, I hated him when Tendulkar got out slashing at a wide one or flicking Fannie de Villiers to midwicket (getting bowled off Abdul Razzaq was ok, since it was deemed as being beaten by a good ball, and that phase came later, when he had agreed to spare him as a legend). For it allowed him to comment that Tendulkar did not care as much about his team as the legendary Gavaskar did. I saw it as a personal attack on my generation and always felt the need to defend the stroke. And I failed to understand for a long time why Gavaskar was on such a pedestal for that generation. I appreciate it much more now, for Gavaskar was probably Dravid's reliability and Ganguly's feistiness combined into one. They say romantics grow up to be tragics. Seeing Gavaskar's commentary box antics, it seems true. I know that I have been a romantic about the golden generation of Indian cricket. I have to watch myself from hereon.
And here is yet another true story. I woke up and read the news on cricinfo of Dravid's retirement. I started getting ready for work and as I was looking in the mirror, I noticed the first grey one of whatever is left of my hair. And I thought to myself that this surely cannot be a coincidence.
For the first few years, I believed that we were unlucky in not winning more than we did. I now comprehend that we had a fairly poor team. The last time I got teary eyed over cricket was in 1996, along with Kambli, after we lost the semi final at Eden Garden. What I now understand, is that we did a miraculous job of getting there, with only 2 players performing consistently. It was after that world cup that we started to become a decent team. And the entry of two of India's best cricketers that year wasn't a coincidence.
Ganguly is rightly credited to be the best Indian captain. He taught us something that we did not know, how to win. We knew how to play the game, we knew how to analyze it, but we did not know how to win it. He had the perfect deputy in Dravid. That India reached the world cup finals in 2003, owed as much to Dravid's wicketkeeping creating an extra player's slot, as it did to some of Tendulkar's fine innings.
There isn't much point in talking about Dravid's contribution to India's test match success. But three occasions deserve a mention. The first was THAT day at Eden Gardens. March 14th, 2001, I was hiding in my room near PICT college in Pune. It was Rangapanchami day, something that I don't particularly enjoy and the whole PICT hostel was out looking for people to color up. I was stuck to a radio (believe it or not, there was not a lot of internet around and we didn't have a TV in our room) following Laxman and Dravid's exploits. That was the day when India did not lose a single wicket and the rest is history. I went out at about 5pm and voluntarily participated in holi. That was the last time I did that.
Then there was Headingly, where I watched some part of Tendulkar's and Ganguly's hundreds, but was intrigued by Dravid's and Bangar's exploits on first day. To this day I rue not having watched the first day. Adelaide was monumental, more for Sir Aggy's (an endearing term coined by one of my friends for the legendary Ajit Agarkar) unexpected burst than Dravid's herculean effort, for we had started expecting such feats from him by then. But his truest masterclass came at Kingston, Jamaica, when, albeit against a weaker side, India won in West Indies for the first time in 35 years.
And then there was the disappointment of the 2007 world cup under Dravid's captainship. But my memory is of Pakistan's exit from that tournament than of India's. Mainly because Woolmer died during that time. I came back to my hotel room after interviewing with Amazon, and read on cricinfo that a murder case was registered at his hotel in Jamaica. It was spooky staying in a hotel room that day.
From there we went to England and won there, after which, against the run of play, Dravid resigned from captainship. I agreed with his "armchair fans" comment for not pushing for victory in the third test at the Oval. On the contrary, I have never agreed with Dhoni's explanation since then for not pushing for a test win after the series is won. I have found it as a missed opportunity to cultivate aggression. Tells you more about me than Dhoni or Dravid.
With 2 back to back away whitewashes, everyone expected some veterans to retire. Given the amount of time it takes to drag a bewildered Laxman from the crease after he gets bowled, one can only guess how much of an effort it will be for him to retire from test cricket. And with Tendulkar, there is no scope for an objective discussion. I am one of those who have watched test cricket over the last 2 decades in the hope that he scores more runs and centuries than Lara and Ponting and averages more than Kallis and Sanga. But if I was captaining a test team, I would write down Lara and Dravid on my batting sheet, before I would write Tendulkar. The point is, anything less than a countrywide festival would be deemed inappropriate as a sendoff to Tendulkar. And he would have to be inhumanly strong to deny that to his fans. So whether you are his fan or critic, there is no scope left for objectivity in analyzing him. I had expected Dravid to retire, retire on the back of a year, where he was as good as any in test cricket, retire without any fuss, something only he can pull off.
Coming back to my dad, I hated him when Tendulkar got out slashing at a wide one or flicking Fannie de Villiers to midwicket (getting bowled off Abdul Razzaq was ok, since it was deemed as being beaten by a good ball, and that phase came later, when he had agreed to spare him as a legend). For it allowed him to comment that Tendulkar did not care as much about his team as the legendary Gavaskar did. I saw it as a personal attack on my generation and always felt the need to defend the stroke. And I failed to understand for a long time why Gavaskar was on such a pedestal for that generation. I appreciate it much more now, for Gavaskar was probably Dravid's reliability and Ganguly's feistiness combined into one. They say romantics grow up to be tragics. Seeing Gavaskar's commentary box antics, it seems true. I know that I have been a romantic about the golden generation of Indian cricket. I have to watch myself from hereon.
And here is yet another true story. I woke up and read the news on cricinfo of Dravid's retirement. I started getting ready for work and as I was looking in the mirror, I noticed the first grey one of whatever is left of my hair. And I thought to myself that this surely cannot be a coincidence.
posted by w_o @ 8:07 AM
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