Pakistan’s attack, lacklustre, luckless, sank into submission. Planes flew over Pindi, the sun fell away, and Ganguly prospered, cutting away, every bowler, cutting till the final ball of the day, from Kaneria, to bring up an effortless fifty.
Dravid too approached his inevitable best in this last hour. And asked by the press at the end of the day if he was eyeing Lara’s 400, he broke into a grin: “Four hundred? For me to score 400 the Test match would have to go into a sixth day.”
Sami burned his soul through a 13-over spell in the morning, but he could gain neither Umar Gul’s deviation off the wicket nor Shoaib’s bounce. And reverse swing continued to be elusive. Besides, there was Dravid to contend with. He had spent most of the previous day smoothing rough edges, and now his bat did not have any.
When Ganguly was run out, for 77, 45 minutes into the morning, it was history in its seventh repetition as farce. Of Dravid’s seven run-outs in Tests, four had been in collaboration with his captain, and out of Ganguly’s three, all had been in duet with his deputy. They were magnets configured to always face each other the wrong way, jolting madly towards one another when they needed to stay far away, repelling madly when they needed to move towards one another with alacrity. In this instance, deputy’s role was to watch as captain comically ducked a throw and failed to ground his bat.
Dravid consolidated diligently with Yuvraj, committed to “bat once, bat big”, as per plan. An hour after lunch he reached 200, just as he had reached 100, ticking Kaneria to leg. Inzamam came over for a handshake. Cynics suggested this was only because of the criticism he’d faced for having not done so when Sehwag reached 300 at Multan earlier. I’d like to believe it was a spontaneous acknowledgement from one modern master to another.
When Yuvraj fell lbw to Sami, the pair had added 98 runs for the fifth wicket. Dravid had put on 129 runs with Parthiv, 131 with Laxman, and another 131 with Ganguly. Two runs more with Yuvraj and he would have become the second man in the history of the game to have shared four century stands in an innings. The only person to have done so was the PCB’s Special Guest for this Test, Hanif Mohammad, during the mother of all epics, the 16-hour rearguard against West Indies in Barbados in 1957-58.
Only after tea, once they had flattened Pakistan out as a rolling pin does dough, did the Indians begin taking risks. Dravid pulled Kaneria and was dropped by Imran Nazir at midwicket; he raced on, with sweeps and magnificent inside-out drives, one of which soared for a six. With the total on 593, and his own score on 270, of which 136 had come from 181 balls on this day, as compared to 134 from 314 before, he pulled out the reverse sweep from outside leg stump to Imran Farhat’s part-time spin, testament both to the adventure he had added to his game and his refusal to play for a milestone ahead of the team cause. He was bowled.
Thus it was at quarter to four on the day recognised by the Islamic calendar as the 24th in the month of Safar that Indian cricket’s longest batting journey came to end.
Of all Dravid’s tours de force this was the most physical. Life carried on, Pakistani bowlers tried and tired, batsmen came and went and hit beautiful strokes, but Dravid had the runs. Twelve hours and 20 minutes says plenty, but not everything: apart from the intervals, Dravid had spent all but one ball of virtually three full days on the field. This was especially challenging because he is prone to losing fluids much quicker than the next sportsman. Dravid always takes measures. In Perth a few months ago he had visited a specialist, who ran a series of tests and prescribed him a fluid mix that would aid his rehydration process. And he was, according to John Wright, “in the top 10% when it comes to physical training”, which meant that in a squad of 16 he was number one or two.
India’s was not an over-performance. It was a natural progression. Five of the six highest scores in their history had come in the last three years. Four of them had arrived in the last five months, each outside India. Since Sehwag joined the ranks, in late 2001, the quintet of Sehwag, Dravid, Tendulkar, Laxman and Ganguly had between them piled on 31 centuries and 44 fifties in 30 Tests. Their combined average in this time was 55.85. Twenty of these were away Tests – and not a dud among them: tours to Australia, South Africa, England, New Zealand, West Indies and Pakistan and nowhere else. For prolificacy, for seizing moments, for always having a man, or two, for every occasion, the quintet could not match the buccaneering band of contemporary Australians, but what they had achieved was to turn India, despite their limited bowling attack, into contenders in any part of the world. Finally.
If Ganguly’s and Wright’s appointments as captain and coach were significant steps in this regard, Dravid’s ascension to batting leader was equally so. Indeed, it is not possible to dissociate the events.
Ganguly’s first Test as captain was against Bangladesh in November 2000 (Wright assumed his position one match later), a time when Indian cricket had hit something close to rock bottom. Dravid himself was in a slump in the period leading up to it. In the space of seven Tests his average had plummeted from 55 to a “mere” 47, and he did not manage a single fifty in those 14 innings. In the 41 Tests and 41 months between then and now, Dravid averaged 70, eight points clear of Tendulkar in the same phase. He strung together 16 fifties, three of which were nineties and another three eighties. He constructed 11 centuries, five of them doubles, each bigger than the previous, more than any Indian had ever done in an entire career, let alone in three and a half years. Not one series passed without bearing the mark of the Maestro, and rare was the Test win, home or away, that remained untouched by his work.
He was there in Kolkata with VVS, scripting among the most dramatic turnarounds the game has known. He was there with Ganguly five months later in Kandy, making a long fourth-innings chase against Murali and cohorts, the longest successful one there has been by a visiting team in that country. He was there in Port Elizabeth three months later, saving a Test a day after Mike Denness had infamously hauled the lot over the coals. He was there in Georgetown four months down the line, averting a follow-on while popping painkillers to soothe a jaw that had swollen to one side as though with a gulab jamun. He was there one Test later in Port-of-Spain, etching out more than a hundred low-key runs over two innings in a famous victory. He was there, four months on, entrenched at Trent Bridge for the final four sessions, saving still another Test. He was there at Headingley in the next Test, taking blow after blow to the body on a bowler’s pitch under glowering skies, sculpting one of the great defensive innings in one of the great Indian wins. He was there, unforgettably, in Adelaide, batting, batting, batting in a trance to victory. He had been India’s batsman of the 2000s as they had unfolded so far, and his had been as significant an extended run as there had been by any batsman anywhere since the second war.
Watching Dravid is an inspiration because at a most visible level Dravid’s lessons are the lessons of life. After a point all achievement is appetite. In 1997-98 he scored fifties in six successive Test innings. Five years later, he scored hundreds in four successive Test innings. How much can you keep biting off? How much can you keep chewing?
Rahul Bhattacharya is a writer based in Delhi. He covered India’s 2003-04 tour of Pakistan for Wisden Asia Cricket magazine, and later wrote a book about it: Pundits from Pakistan
Three of the four wickets Dravid took bowling in ODIs were of South Africans – Shaun Pollock, Gary Kirsten and Lance Klusener. The only other batsman he dismissed in ODIs was Saeed Anwar.
[ 18 ]
The Kingston grind
SIDDHARTHA VAIDYANATHAN
Rahul Dravid’s twin fifties at Sabina Park led India to their first series win in the Caribbean in 35 years. They were constructed on a spiteful pitch that saw 22 single-digit scores in a game that finished in three days. Dravid’s technical mastery was unmatched. His defence was watertight and he adapted his technique to the occasion.
81 and 68 v West Indies, fourth Test, Kingston, 2006
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It was the first morning of the final Test. The series was up for grabs. Sabina Park was a giant construction site – the stadium was being readied for the 2007 World Cup. Helmeted workers sat atop scaffolds, rows of empty charcoal-coloured bucket seats alternated with heaps of rubble. Around 2000 filled the stadium. Some Indians in the George Headley Stand waved flags; some West Indians tooted horns. A Jamaica flag fluttered above the pavilion. Jerome Taylor, the local boy, was running red hot.
India were 3 for 2. Both openers were out. Rahul Dravid walked in at No. 4, where he had batted all series in Sachin Tendulkar’s absence. A local photographer, peering through his lens, asked about the Britannia sticker on Dravid’s bat. He was told about a biscuit-making company in Bangalore, Dravid’s hometown, where it was close to dinner time.
It took 19 overs for Dravid’s, and India’s, first four, a straight drive off Dwayne Bravo. The rest was attrition. Corey Collymore, the most economical bowler all series, probed outside off. Pedro Collins applied pressure with maidens. Taylor exploded: ratcheting the pace above 140kph, he forced hesitant prods. None fazed Dravid.
Two and a half months earlier, in an unprecedented decision, the BCCI had named Dravid Test and one-day captain until the 2007 World Cup. This decision, apparently a move towards stability, provoked criticism. Dravid’s extended tenure in the ODI format was understandable – the side was in the middle of a record-breaking run – but his Test results were questionable. Dravid had won a home series against Sri Lanka and lost a series in Pakistan. Within five days of the landmark decision, he would lose a Test to England, finishing a home series 1-1 and provoking further censure of his long-term appointment.
The Caribbean tour had begun on a high note: a Dravid hundred won the first ODI in Kingston – India’s 17th successful chase on the trot. But that was the acme: India lost the series 1-4 and the pressure on Dravid intensified with every game.
India were expected to dominate the Tests. They came within one wicket of winning in Antigua, were defied by rain in St Lucia, and by a confident West Indies batting line-up in St Kitts. Now in Kingston their chances hung by a thread.
India resumed after lunch at 29 for 2. VVS Laxman fell in the first over. Yuvraj Singh and Mohammad Kaif were floored by snorters: 78 for 5. Dravid was lucky to survive a menacing short one from Taylor, the ball flying off his bat’s edge, grazing the fingertips of gully. He responded by pulling Taylor for two successive fours, both in front of square. His wrists rolled, his body flowing in a smooth arc in the follow-through.
Batting got easier midway through the day. Anil Kumble, adept at angling his bat, proved an able ally. Dravid punished width and was quick on the drive, a long stride turning full-length deliveries into half-volleys. Chris Gayle tried offspin; Dravid lifted him over mid-on. Shivnarine Chanderpaul tried legspin; Dravid paddle-swept for four. Had the pitch flattened out?
Joseph Charles Morris, fondly called Charlie, was the head groundsman at Sabina Park. He began working there in 1959. His trademark pitches had a glossy veneer on the surface. He made the fiery one for the Test against India in 1976, when West Indies unleashed a pace battery so intimidating that Bishan Bedi declared the first innings with six wickets down.
The pitch was re-laid in the early ‘90s and, according to Charlie, lost most of its bounce. He had seen signs of a revival, though – especially when Steve Harmison rolled West Indies over for 47 in 2004 – but wished for more consistency. On the eve of the Test, Charlie guaranteed the surface would help bounce. Brian Lara, the West Indies captain, said it would help spinners. Dravid called it a “slow wicket”, where the ball would “stop on the batsmen initially”.
Kumble played on to a short ball from Bravo: 184 for 7. Five overs later Collymore lured Dravid into feathering one outside off. The wicketkeeper pouched the edge. Dravid later compared his 81 to the 76 he made on a windy first morning in Wellington in 2002.
India folded for 200. Only once had a team drawn a Test after making 200 or less in the first innings in Kingston. No team had won. It was history or bust.
Dravid had been there before. Nine years before, on his first tour to the Caribbean, the two teams had played out four draws. The series was decided on a manic morning in the third Test, when India failed to chase 120 on a Barbados snakepit.
In 2002 they had squandered another series after batting collapses in Barbados and Jamaica – a harrowing defeat: the series would have finished 1-1 if India’s lower order had held on for half an hour before torrential rain lashed the island for 11 days. Now, after three drawn Tests, Dravid was back in Kingston. Another series was on the line.
Lara said West Indies needed to aim to bat for two days. They lasted a little over a session. From 72 for 3 they shrivelled to 103 all out. The team faced 33.3 overs – 14 balls fewer than Dravid did in his innings. India bowled with discipline – Harbhajan Singh took five wickets in 4.3 overs – but some of the shot selection was baffling. The pitch was unpredictable; the batting more so.
India led by 97. Their openers walked in with rain in the air. By the fourth over they had both walked back: 6 for 2.
Dravid took strike with the ground bathed in sunshine. There was a wide leg slip in place. Taylor banged a short one in, then another, then angled one onto Dravid’s pads. The delicate edge flew between the wicketkeeper and leg slip. In his next over Taylor again fired one onto Dravid’s legs. It clipped the pads and produced a woody sound. Denesh Ramdin fumbled the catch. Taylor thought he almost had a wicket. There was drama in the air.
From then on, Dravid reeked assurance. Bat met ball with sweet tocks. He juddered pull shots in front of square. A regal swivel that raced to the cover fence took him past 9000 Test runs. His drives were extensions of his defence: you saw the high elbow; the bat pointed at fourth slip in the stance, and finished ramrod straight.
Dravid stood still before the bowler delivered, then he mostly went back and moved across to defend. Sometimes – and here lay his genius – he simply got back and chose not to move across, creating width for a cut shot. Here was a batsman at the peak of his prowess. All afternoon he was beaten once.
Collymore cleaned up Laxman and Yuvraj. Collins got Kaif to play on. Seventy-six for 5. India led by 173. MS Dhoni added 46 with Dravid, before missing an incutter that kept a shade low. With his feet rooted to the crease, Dhoni stood no chance.
Two overs later Taylor sent a replica delivery down to Dravid. It caught a thick inside edge and dribbled. Dravid shook his head, determined. The next ball kept low again, except this time it held its line. Dravid moved forward, his bat came down straight. Taylor stood transfixed. It was his last over of the day. The best bowler in the match knew he was defeated. There was no way past Britannia.
India ended the day 225 ahead. Dravid batted out another 36 deliveries the next morning before he was bowled off a shooter. He walked back to heartfelt applause. Back in the dressing room, he cursed himself for not getting the bat down in time.
West Indies were set 269. They went down swinging. A festive Sunday was lit up by cameos from Ramnaresh Sarwan, Bravo and Ramdin. Kumble had the final say, his sixth wicket wrapping up the game in the penultimate over. India had won a series in the Caribbean for the first time in 35 years. Dravid was chaired around the ground. Groundsman Charlie shed copious tears.
This was India’s first significant away series win in two years. Dravid went on to lead India to a series win in England. Despite memorable results in Tests (including India’s first Test win in South Africa) his captaincy was defined by India being knocked out in the first round of the 2007 World Cup.
For Dravid the batsman, Kingston 2006 was a high point. His next significant innings was a year and a half later, on another challenging surface, in Perth, leading to another historic Test win.
Dravid returned to Jamaica in 2011. Faced with another unpredictable pitch, he responded with a matc
h-winning, and eventually series-winning, century. For those who missed his batting in 2006, he obliged with an encore, showing that history does occasionally repeat itself.
Siddhartha Vaidyanathan is a journalist based in New York. He covered India’s 2006 tour of West Indies for ESPNcricinfo
Dravid was never dismissed for a first-ball duck in Tests. He was, though, run out for 0 without facing a ball once: in the Lahore Test of 2004.
[ 19 ]
A part of his best self
SHARDA UGRA
India’s 2011 tour of England provided more occasion than others in recent years to drag out the familiar clichés about lone bulwarks and defiant solos: Rahul Dravid scored 461 runs in the Tests, nearly 200 more than any of his team-mates, at twice the average. The finest of his three hundreds came at Trent Bridge.
117 v England, second Test, Nottingham, 2011
The grey skies at the start of the Nottingham Test had defined the first day as what English cricket folk call a “bowling day”. As the clouds parted on the Saturday and sunlight flowed over Trent Bridge, naturally it was the advent of that other phenomenon: the “batting day”. For this Test match, though, those descriptions were irrelevant. In terms of batsmanship, the first two days have both been, quite simply, Dravid days.
The wicket at Trent Bridge is known for its propensity to aid swing. The theories behind that phenomenon include the Duke’s ball, the new stands built at the ground, the airflow around them, the neighbouring river Trent, the sky, the clouds, the weather, everything and nothing. Wherever the swing came from, Rahul Dravid’s response to it, and his second Test century of the tour, came from skill, memory and cussedness.
Rahul Dravid: Timeless Steel Page 11