**A MAN OF MANY PARTS** The first time I met Rahul Dravid was in Mumbai in 2005-06. The occasion was the inaugural T20 tournament of the Board of Control for Cricket in India. The match was at the Wankhede Stadium and one of the teams happened to be Karnataka. The day before the match, at the pre-match meeting, Karnataka was represented by their new captain, Yere Gowda, as the original captain — Dravid — was not certain to play. At the time he was leading India, and the national team had just returned from a foreign tour, so the Karnataka team manager, Sudhakar Rao, informed us that Dravid may not be able to arrive on time for the match. Next morning, before the toss, while the umpires and I — as the match referee — were inspecting the pitch, we saw Dravid walking towards the pitch. As he approached, he exchanged pleasantries and then was about to step on the pitch. I quickly blurted out, “Are you leading the team in this match?” He shook his head and said, “No.” I smiled and added, “Probably you have forgotten that as a playing member you are not supposed to walk on the pitch. Only the captain has the prerogative.” He instantly stopped and said, “I am sorry. Thanks for reminding me.” I replied, “Cannot blame you, Rahul. As the India captain you have got used to walking on the pitch before the match. Anyway, no harm done.” Suddenly Venkatesh Prasad appeared. He thought I was having a confrontation with Dravid. He shrugged his shoulders and raised his voice at me, “Do you realize that you are arguing with the India captain?” Without a moment’s hesitation, Dravid cut him short, saying “Ref is correct. As an ordinary player I am not allowed on the pitch.” This is the real Rahul Dravid. A man of courage; a man of character. Courageous enough to accept that he was at fault. He had no qualms in saying so in front of the curator, the umpires and others. He even silenced his colleague for being wrong. I feel proud to see that we still have such men in India. Later that evening, after the match, I went across to the Brabourne Stadium to watch another T20 match. As I entered, Dilip Vengsarkar called me to the seat beside him. On the other side was Dravid. Vengsarkar introduced me to him saying, “Meet my friend Raju.” Straight-faced, Dravid replied, “Met him this morning. A very lenient match referee.” When Dilip furrowed his eyebrowsDravid smiled and mentioned the incident. Dilip added sauce, “Even when he was playing he behaved like a match ref.” As the conversation flowed, Dravid mentioned that he had liked reading my book. “The part about cricket being played during Mahabharat days was an eye-opener.” I was astounded that he had found the time to read my writing. He then added, “Rajan Bala told me to read your articles. I usually do.” I came to learn that he was an avid collector of cricket books. Later that season our paths crossed again, at the Wankhede. The occasion was a Ranji Trophy tie between Mumbai and Karnataka. Before leaving Calcutta, I had taken a first edition Cardus duplicate that I had in my collection for Dravid. My wife was mad at me. “Do you realize that you would be giving the India captain a moth-eaten old book? What will he think of you?” I had told her before departure, “If any player would realize its worth, that would be Dravid.” I was proved right. The moment he had the tattered copy in his hands, he uttered, “Are you sure you want to part with this original edition Cardus? This is a collector’s item. This will be a treasure in my collection.” Here was a man who understood the value of antiquity. Another incident revealed the man all the more. In Mysore, Karnataka were hosting Punjab in a Ranji Trophy tie. Manish Pandey, a young talented batsman, was unbeaten on 80 at the end of the penultimate day, with his team needing around 50 or so to win. While they were doing their cooling-down drills, I called Pandey and asked him why he wore light grey shoes while batting. The skipper, Dravid, was more embarrassed than Pandey. He asked if it was possible to allow Pandey to continue with those shoes as he had no other pair. I told Dravid that if he felt it was perfect, I would allow it. Dravid replied, “No, no I do not think these shoes are okay. He should be wearing white shoes. Will you please accept it if he puts white plaster on the shoes and bats?” I understood the problem. “Fair enough, skip. Out of sheer respect for you, I will allow it.” The next day Pandey got his hundred and Karnataka won the match. Afterwards, Dravid came to the referee’s room and thanked me. “You have opened my eyes. I found most of my lads do not possess proper white cricket shoes. I assure you from the next match Karnataka players will wear absolutely proper white shoes.” Here was a captain who had the courtesy to acknowledge even a minor problem. Not many captains would uphold the traditional values of cricket in this manner. In 2012, in Jaipur, the Rajasthan Royals — captained by Dravid — was involved in an IPL match with the Delhi Daredevils. As the match referee, I walked in for the toss. The commentator, Sanjay Manjrekar, asked me, “Sir, I just want to get the pronunciation of your name correct.” He proceeded to repeat my surname so that he got the pronunciation right. Instantly, Dravid smiled, “No, his real name is not ‘Mukherji’. It is ‘Mukhopadhyay.’” Dravid is really amazing. For a man from Karnataka to know the origins of Bengali surnames is quite astounding. His awareness of the world goes far beyond that of most sportsmen. Bright, well read and articulate, Dravid is actually one in a million. He is also a man of gratitude. He is known to have said time and again that Keki Tarapore was his coach, even though he has also been guided by far more famous cricket personalities. I asked Shahvir Tarapore, the international umpire and Keki Tarapore’s son, about Dravid’s relationship with his father. Shahvir said, “My father was his coach at school. Rahul never let anybody forget that. He kept in constant touch with dad even when he was busy with his very tight international schedule. Dad used to feel a little embarrassed when Rahul often praised him publicly. But Rahul always maintained that the early coaches are the real coaches for they help to lay the foundation.” How many famous players would acknowledge the fact that they should be indebted to their early coaches? Dravid’s greatness as a batsman needs no elaboration. Completely selfless, he even volunteered to keep wickets for India. People who have not played the game would not realize how very difficult it is for a non-regular wicket-keeper to play this role and then succeed at his primary job of batting as well. Rahul achieved the extremely difficult task most commendably and without complaint. As a leader of men he proved himself time and again for India. He won Test series in West Indies and in England. Initially with Karnataka and later with the Rajasthan Royals, Dravid kept his profile low but was highly proactive. He was their captain, mentor and coach. Players within his orbit progressed both as cricketers and as men, and they worship him. And yet Dravid remains modest. He has never cared for publicity, never tried to draw any attention to himself. He has remained selfless, low-profile, intelligent and articulate. In a cricket world that has lost its innocence, Dravid upheld the spirit of the game and its traditional values. He was probably the last of a rare breed. A great cricketer; a greater human being. words from a REPORTER !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Posted on: Tue, 29 Oct 2013 13:42:16 +0000
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