Dravid brought dynamism to India’s ODI cricket, shaking up a team in flux, defending small totals with attacking fields, refusing formulaic captaincy, yet the lasting memory of him as ODI captain remains that March afternoon in the West Indies when India were knocked out in the first round of the World Cup.
Dravid knew that in India a captain, a team, are always judged by how they do in World Cups. It was as if in those three matches in Trinidad, all the good work of the previous years had been undone. He didn’t quit immediately, but by the end of the England tour later that year, he was a spent man. The tension that the clashes between the coach, Greg Chappell, and some Indian players – both parties equally headstrong – brought, the expectations, the intensity, they all consumed him. One fine day in 2007 he let go. He had stopped enjoying it.
That, though, wasn’t the case when Dravid was first made the full-time captain, in late 2005. Don’t get it wrong: he surely enjoys his batting, but during some of Dravid’s best efforts with the bat you could imagine him gritting his teeth and going through an unpleasant experience others had shirked. Captaincy, you could see, he enjoyed. Small tricks on the field, big plans off it. He had acumen, he had vision, and most importantly, as he said in an interview in January 2006, the will to “keep the game moving”.
Naturally intelligent, a balanced individual, a fan of Mark Taylor’s captaincy, Dravid was arguably India’s most tactically proficient and aggressive on-field captain. There was something delightfully unpredictable about India under him. In November 2003, standing in as captain, Dravid opened an ODI innings with a spinner. In the famous two-and-a-half-day Test in Mumbai in 2004-05, standing in again, he introduced Murali Kartik ahead of Anil Kumble, while defending just 106. In Multan he declared with Sachin Tendulkar on 194 because it made cricketing sense to him that the Pakistan openers be given a thorough examination before stumps; it was a flat pitch, and India would need time to force a result.
When he got the reins full-time, he left a Dravid imprint on the team. Before his first Test as full-time captain, he tried to make team meetings more interactive, getting senior players to speak about some of their experiences. Soon he took India to Pakistan, and on a flat pitch he played with five bowlers. If a man could bring this edge to India-Pakistan Tests, long infamous for the teams’ fear of losing to the arch enemy, and thus for drab cricket, that man could be dangerous with the right bowlers to back him up. Three Tests later he played five bowlers, against England in Mohali, dropping his good friend and the player of the best innings ever played in Tests, VVS Laxman.
Under Dravid, India began to focus on bowlers, under him India won their first Test in South Africa, their first series in the West Indies since 1971, and their first in England since 1986. The salesmen often credit the IPL for India’s big chases in ODIs of late, but back in the days of two formats, 14 of India’s record 17 consecutive successful chases came under Dravid.
However, setting fields, picking XIs, managing bowling changes, pushing for wins, staying aggressive, keeping the game moving forward, is just one part of the job – especially in India. The assumption that everybody who has made it to the India team will respect everybody else, will do his best to win matches, will not have differences with team-mates, that a captain will not have to go out of his way to maintain harmony among a group of individuals with the same goals, is as idyllic as it is adult. An India captain has to understand various equations in a side, has to, at times, bring himself down to the level of intellect of the other or raise his own. He also has to deal, fight, argue and work with the selectors, who have to balance the interests of their zones with national ones. It is near impossible for an India captain to stay apolitical. Equally a thick skin is a must.
During Dravid’s time, the need for such a leader soon arose. All it took was an outsider, another complex personality, the domineering and outspoken coach, Chappell, trying to bring his ideas to India. It was arguably the most tumultuous and divisive period in Indian cricket. It was also the dirtiest time. In these cases, who is right and who is wrong is often inconsequential. Was Chappell not right in suggesting that Virender Sehwag and Zaheer Khan get fit when he did? Was Chappell not right in suggesting that India have an eye on the future? At the same time, were the players lying when they say that Chappell created an atmosphere of insecurity, fear, humiliation and mistrust in the dressing room? The truth will never come out even if every party involved writes books.
The only absolute truth is that the loss was that of the Indian cricket team – Dravid’s team. His vision was torn apart, his achievements as captain forgotten. For all popular purposes, he was now just Chappell’s puppet – a notion lacking respect, and given strength by Sourav Ganguly’s comments in 2011 that Dravid didn’t have the guts to stand up to Chappell. The fact, though, was that even Dravid wanted fitter cricketers who were not stagnating, but perhaps he couldn’t control the personality flaws of everyone else involved.
It is a measure of Dravid the person that even when Chappell was being written off by almost everyone, Dravid did not dissociate himself from the former coach. He still talked of those days using the pronoun “we”. And he admitted things could have been done differently, that perhaps personalities could have been handled differently. “I think when you look back at any stage of your career, there are things you could have done differently, and that captaincy period is no different,” he said. “In terms of intention, of what we were trying to achieve, I have no doubt in my mind that it was on the right path. Sure, we made mistakes, sure, there were things that we did right, and maybe some of the results didn’t show up right away. They did show up later on, but that’s just the way it is.”
And so cricket ceased being just sport. It became something bigger that consumed everything: the administrators, the players, the performances, the fans, the media. One party manoeuvred one half, the other took the remaining two quarters. The whole nation was divided. Caught between all this was the captain, hoping desperately for results in the World Cup, because ultimately only that would matter in India come Judgement Day.
Shrewder man-managers, less intense people, might have done better. During those days Dravid was very much the great tactician accidentally captaining the wrong side, a team he didn’t know at all. Everything was draining; daily activities he used to look forward to earlier were now chores. External factors began to matter much more. He admitted there were days when he woke up not looking forward to captaining India. This was during the England tour, where he settled for a 1-0 series win. That let on in no uncertain terms that he was afraid of losing, of what people might say if he lost, through some miracle of the order of Headingley 1981, in an attempt to add to India’s meagre five wins in England.
Dravid the captain’s goose, though, was cooked months before, on that March afternoon in Trinidad. It was the most poignant sight of his career. Munaf Patel has just become the last man dismissed, with India 69 short of Sri Lanka’s 254, and thus out of the tournament, played on slow and low pitches ideally suited to India’s style of play. Dravid has been chewing his nails, with Dinesh Karthik and Anil Kumble sitting next to him, and Sachin Tendulkar and Virender Sehwag in the row behind. Now he gets up, runs his left hand across his eye. Is it a tear he is trying to hide? It’s like something has left him. Kumble consoles him. It is clear, though, that trying to be the best captain he could be is not as easy as being the best cricketer he could be.
Sidharth Monga is an assistant editor at ESPNcricinfo
Dravid scored 860 runs in World Cups at an average of 61.42. Among batsmen who scored at least 750 World Cup runs only Viv Richards has a better average (1013 runs at 63.31).
[ 7 ]
‘The best batting happens when you are batting in the present’
INTERVIEW BY SAMBIT BAL
December 2003
T ill Adelaide 2003, most epic performances by Indian batsmen on foreign
soil had either been in vain or, at most, had helped salvage a draw. Rahul Dravid’s vigil in both innings of that Test marked a watershed moment. His double-hundred in the first saved India from catastrophe, and after an unexpected burst from Ajit Agarkar set the stage, Dravid made sure India got over the ropes.
This interview was conducted a few days later, in his hotel room in sleepy Hobart. Given that he has always been a man of method, I was keen to explore the processes of batting, unique to every batsman, with him. His press conferences can often be dull because he chooses to play safe, but his thoughtfulness and power of articulation make him a wonderful interviewee.
Do you think you’re at the peak of your game at the moment?
I’d like to believe not. Let’s put it this way: I’m batting better than I have ever batted before, but I would like to believe that I can get better. I have batted well in the last couple of years, but never have I felt that this is it and that this is the best I can do.
You’ve hardly had a bad series since that big hundred against Australia in Kolkata. Can you pinpoint any aspect of your game that you feel has improved?
I can’t pinpoint any one thing, because there isn’t any one thing I have done differently. It is a combination of things. It is the confidence of doing well consistently, and the maturity gathered over the years. With experience you learn to trust your game more than you did as a youngster. Also, I think I am getting into better positions while playing – the body position, the head position, the balance, and certainly I am in a better state of mind.
Let’s put it another way: is there any weakness that you have managed to eliminate?
I have looked at all areas of my game and worked hard on all of them. I have really worked on my physical fitness. I think it’s a question of everything coming together. It is generally accepted that the best years for a batsman are around the age of 30. I have a few years of experience at international level now, so it all adds up.
You certainly seem more positive about your strokeplay.
I am more positive because I am more confident, I am getting runs, I am batting better, I am getting into better positions. It’s not that I have made a conscious decision to go out and play more strokes.
Your last truly bad series was in Australia [1999-00]. Since then you have not really failed in series anywhere. Even in New Zealand [2002-03], you scored some runs.
Actually, I thought I was playing quite well in New Zealand. The 70 that I got in the first Test I rate quite highly among all my knocks. The conditions were really tough. Things didn’t go well after that but I got a 39 in the second Test and I was batting quite well when I got out to a rank bad ball.
What were the lessons from that bad series in Australia?
That whole phase was quite tough for me. Three Tests against Australia and then hardly a break before we played two Tests against South Africa at home. I had more doubts about my game in that period than I’ve ever done. What really helped were my six months of county cricket in England. It came at the right time because I needed to get away, to a new environment where I could just relax and be myself and play cricket and enjoy it. I was on my own, and I learned things about myself and my game.
What do you think really went wrong in Australia on that tour? Did you, like Sanjay Manjrekar before you, who was also a good technician, fail because you got bogged down?
I was out of form. No two ways about it. I was not batting well. I was not getting into good positions. I got out to balls that I had lost track of. I didn’t feel confident. Things got better as the tour went on, and I got a few runs in the one-dayers. But in the Test matches I just didn’t bat well. Let’s just say that I wasn’t good enough and they were too good for me. I didn’t fail last time because I played fewer shots, because most times I wasn’t batting long enough. In Adelaide, I got a 35, which wasn’t a bad start, and perhaps if I had converted that into a 70 or 80, things would have been different. But after that, I was hardly spending time in the crease.
Is there anything you feel you are doing better now? Any particular stroke that you think you are playing better?
I think I’m driving a little better on the off side. When I look at some of my old videos I realise that I was perhaps driving much less then. I was always a good cutter; it’s a shot I have always played well, especially abroad. But I am getting more forward now, and my front-foot driving is more sure.
It’s not very natural for an Indian player to be a good cutter. You pull quite well too.
That’s because I played a lot of cricket on matting wickets. That really helped develop my back-foot game. With the kind of bounce you get on matting, you need to cut and pull well. And I was quite conscious thatI needed to play these shots well if I was ever picked for the national side. I remember people like [Javagal] Srinath telling me that if I wanted to do well abroad, I had to cut and pull well. So I made a conscious effort to develop these two shots. Sometimes while playing in domestic cricket, it’s easy to lose these shots, because on those wickets you don’t really need them. They are just not an option. So you learn other skills to score runs. But I always kept working on them because I knew I would need them abroad. People don’t give you too many balls to drive in international cricket.
For a while you were not an automatic choice for the one-day team. You were dropped on a few occasions too. Did this change your approach to batting?
I was conscious of the fact that I needed to improve if I wanted to come back into the one-day team. I knew I had certain strengths that were useful to the team, but I knew I had to get better. Being left out of the team is not a nice feeling. I went back and worked on certain areas of my one-day game, like playing with soft hands, trying out a few new strokes. I had to look hard at which areas needed work. Maybe earlier I used to go into one-day games thinking of batting a lot of overs. One-day cricket has changed a bit. Sides now bat deep and a lot more runs are scored. I had to adjust my thought processes to that. Experience teaches you things; it teaches you to think differently and helps you play differently.
You obviously place a lot of importance on thinking about your game?
Oh, yes. The mind does help sharpen your skills. When you are in the right frame of mind, a lot of things fall into place. I can’t describe what the right frame of mind is, it varies from situation to situation, from player to player. What might make me a little nervous and a little tense might not make another player nervous. It is a process of self-discovery.
How do you prepare for a match?
I try to have as many nets as possible in the last couple of days before the match. When I feel comfortable with my game, I stop. Then I start thinking about the match. I look at the wicket. I try to analyse the kind of bowlers I will be playing, their strengths and weaknesses. I replay in my mind the memories of my last encounter with them. I look at videos if they’re available. If a bowler got me out the last time, I try to think about how I got out, what mistake I committed.
And I do my best to be in a relaxed state of mind, because that’s when I play at my best. I try to slow things down a couple of days before the game. I have long lunches, do things in an unhurried way. The morning of the match, I always get up a couple of hours before we have to get to the ground, so that I have plenty of time to get ready. I take my time to have a bath, wear my clothes, eat breakfast. I never rush things, and that sort of sets up my mood for the rest of the day.
Then, if the facilities permit, I have a net at the ground. I try to be flexible about my routine. If you have a set routine, if you say, “I must do this and this”, then it can be counter-productive, because sometimes you may not have facilities at the ground. At some grounds the practice pitches are so bad that it can actually harm your confidence to bat on them. The facilities in Australia are very good, so I might have a net. It also depends on weather; if it’s hot and sweaty, maybe I will skip
it, because it takes too much energy.
Do you do visualisation?
A little bit. There is always a bat in the dressing room. I hold the bat in my hands and go through some of the shots I might play. Before sleeping the previous night I spend 15 minutes running through the next day and how I would like it to pan out for me, structuring my thoughts.
What do you do while waiting for your turn to bat?
I try to be relaxed. I never put any pressure on myself. I watch the game. I try to go out in the light and watch. I look at field settings, the bounce, the bowling changes. I think about the game but I am quite relaxed. I might have a cup of tea and talk to someone sitting next to me. If it’s a long partnership, I walk around, do a bit of stretching to get the blood circulation going. But I don’t get into the game. I like to conserve my mental energies for batting in the middle.
Describe what happens when you walk out to the middle. A wicket has just fallen, perhaps to a great ball, and you are making your way out.
I like to get in quite quickly, it gets my legs moving. You do feel nervous. You feel the butterflies in the stomach every time you walk out to bat, regardless of whether you have played 100 Tests or ten. You need that bit of nervous energy; it tells you that you are switched on. I would worry if I didn’t feel it. I have a look at the wicket, then have a little conversation with the other batsman, which is quite important because it makes you feel that you are not alone out there.
Rahul Dravid: Timeless Steel Page 4