Rahul Dravid retires from cricket : Tribute articles to Dravid

[wobblydoggy]

Personally I have always rated Rahul above Sachin because of his respect for the team as a whole and his selfless acts in assisting the team. India will miss him

[Gambit]

Consistent line across tributes is that Dravid isn't Tendulkar. They are doing a great disservice to Dravid by not talking about him in isolation but justifying his greatness using Tendulkar. Dravid was his own man and a giant of the game. The focus should be on him.

[Mandrake]

Consistent line across tributes is that Dravid isn't Tendulkar. They are doing a great disservice to Dravid by not talking about him in isolation but justifying his greatness using Tendulkar. Dravid was his own man and a giant of the game. The focus should be on him.

Well said Gambit,RD is a legend of the game second to none.

[Laaloo]

Consistent line across tributes is that Dravid isn't Tendulkar. They are doing a great disservice to Dravid by not talking about him in isolation but justifying his greatness using Tendulkar. Dravid was his own man and a giant of the game. The focus should be on him.

++ It's amazing how most of these experts and all the game time users on CI are comparing Dravid to Tendulkar. Most of these ppl are insecure.

[Crookbond]

My husband, the perfectionist While he was very particular about how he approached the game, he had the great ability to leave cricket on the field once the day was done. http://www.espncricinfo.com/magazine/content/story/556979.html

Only once, I remember, he returned from a Test and said, "I got a bit angry today. I lost my temper. Shouldn't have done that." He wouldn't say more. Many months later, Viru [sehwag] told me that he'd actually thrown a chair after a defeat to England in Mumbai. He'd thrown the chair, Viru said, not because the team had lost but because they had lost very badly.

[Chandan]

Stylish in the trenches Rahul Dravid's singular achievement was in employing defensive batting to winning ends Mukul Kesavan March 10, 2012 Dravid's retirement is freighted with more meaning than merely the end of an individual career Exactly 11 years ago, down to the month, Rahul Dravid was playing second lead in India's greatest-ever Test victory, the second match of the three-Test series against Steve Waugh's all-conquering Australians. He scored 180; VVS Laxman, the hero of this Boy's Own Paper spectacular, scored 281. Together they won India the match (with some help from Harbhajan Singh and Sachin Tendulkar on the bowling front) but once again Dravid had been Robin to someone else's Batman, best man in the ironic sense of being the bridegroom's chief aide. The innings was a landmark in Dravid's cricketing life: it marked the end of the first phase (the first third, to be precise) of an extraordinary Test career. Dravid made his debut in England in 1996 and had by 2001 built a reputation as the anchor of India's batting line-up and its second-best batsman. If this had merely meant being shaded by Tendulkar, the greatest batsman of his generation, it might have been acceptable; what galled Dravid's admirers was that he was sometimes outshone by lesser men. In his debut series in England, it was Sourav Ganguly, a fellow debutant, who took the honours with two centuries. Dravid missed his hundred on debut by five runs at Lord's and then scored an eighty in the next Test; it wasn't till his ninth Test that he scored his first hundred. At the end of 1998, after two and a half years of Test cricket and 24 Test matches, Dravid had two centuries, one of them against Zimbabwe. He had done enough to signal that he was a first-rate prospect and a fearless player of quick bowling, but the big, decisive innings eluded him regularly: eight times in this period he managed to get into the eighties and nineties without going on to score a hundred. He was in some danger of becoming a nearly-man. Even after he hit his century-making stride with two centuries in a drawn Test in New Zealand and it became clear that he was India's greatest holding batsman since Sunil Gavaskar, others seemed to make the running in the team. Ganguly took over as captain when Tendulkar stepped away from the leadership reckoning, and Laxman's purple patch with the bat had people briefly wondering if the baton of batting greatness was to skip the intake of '96 and pass from the Little Master to a younger man. You could see the pressure on Dravid that day in Kolkata, when Ganguly promoted Laxman, as the form batsman, to Dravid's No. 3 spot in the interests of the team. Dravid came in at No. 6 when the game seemed lost, and, as always, did what was best for the side: he held the line with Laxman till a lost position became a winning one. Unusually for him, when he got to his hundred he let the press-box sceptics know that he was still around. It was a turning point; having played a supporting role in the greatest Indian batting partnership of all time, he was about to come into his own. For the next five years he was, by some distance, the best batsman in the team: better than Laxman, better than Virender Sehwag, better than the great Tendulkar. As batsman and as captain he helped India win Test series overseas in Pakistan, in the West Indies and in England. He was, for those years, Indian batting's Batman. His innings in Leeds and Adelaide were amongst the greatest ever played by an Indian abroad, and they were played in a winning cause. Through those glory years, he wasn't the Wall, he was what Gavaskar had been for the Indian team 30 years before, its bastion and its siege engine. Dravid's extraordinary success in this middle period of his career (towards the end of this phase his batting average was just under 59) needs attention not just because it helped India's cause; it is important because it offers us an alternative template for batting greatness. Greatness in batting, specially in the last 20 years, has been associated with masterful aggression: Lara, Tendulkar, Ponting. In the same period, Dravid (along with Jacques Kallis) showed us masterfulness of another sort: great defensive batting put to winning ends. Dravid's originality as a batsman needs an essay to itself; suffice to say that by melding Gundappa Viswanath's wristy genius with Gavaskar's monumental patience and poise, he became that remarkable and original creature: a stylish trench-warrior. The last third of his career saw an initial dip and then a remarkable return to form. The last three years were an autumnal golden age that should have ended with those three heroic centuries in England last summer. Never had Dravid's great qualities - courage, endurance, team spirit and technical excellence - been better showcased than in that late sunburst of genius and generosity. Generosity because here was a man being asked to open the batting for a broken team at the age of 39, a batting position he had always detested, and he complied without demur and with surpassing success. Steadfast elegance is an unlikely quality, a contradiction in terms. It was Dravid's great achievement throughout his career to fuse those virtues in his person. To remember the wreckage amidst which he battled in a forlorn cause last summer, surrounded by unfit, unsound, feckless team-mates, is to know, with fear, what Indian cricket has lost with his retirement. He played one series too many. It wasn't his fault; given his form in England, the challenge of an Australian tour, and the sort of hand he had always played for India overseas, he had to go. When he failed on that disastrous tour, along with the rest of India's old guard, he was, inevitably, the first to pack it in. It is a retirement freighted with more meaning than merely the end of an individual career. Rahul Dravid was an old-fashioned cricketer: he was a Test match batsman who was great without being glamorous, brave without being brash. He was, if you like, the polar opposite of Virat Kohli, Indian cricket's new poster boy. When this honourable man called it a day, middle-aged fans across the subcontinent shivered: they felt a goose walk over Test cricket's grave.

[vvvslaxman]

It is very very hard to be a Dravid reading the article. Such dedication. Lot of guys would have allowed the success to get to their head.

[Chandan]

A gentleman champion of timeless steel and dignity A whole strand of the game - a rich vein that runs through cricket's poetic heart - departs the scene with one of the all-time great No. 3s Ed Smith March 13, 2012 Dravid turns out for the Kent Spitfires in 2000 When Rahul Dravid walked into the dressing room of the St Lawrence ground in Canterbury on a cold spring morning, you could tell he was different from all the others. He did not swagger with cockiness or bristle with macho competitiveness. He went quietly round the room, shaking the hand of every Kent player - greeting everyone the same, from the captain to the most junior. It was not the mannered behaviour of a seasoned overseas professional; it was the natural courtesy of a real gentleman. We met a special human being first, an international cricketer second. The cricketer was pretty good, too. Dravid joined Kent for the 2000 season, and I spent much of it at number four, coming in one after Dravid (not that he was the departing batsman very often). That meant I had some wonderful opportunities to bat alongside the player who became the highest scoring No. 3 of all time. What did I learn? I learnt that real toughness takes many different forms. Dravid could appear shy and slightly vulnerable off the pitch; in the middle, you sensed a depth of resilience. Many overseas players liked to set themselves apart from the county pros - as though they had to swear more loudly and clap their hands more violently to prove that international cricketers were tougher than the rest. Not Dravid. He never paraded his toughness - it emerged between the lines of his performances. Instead, he always talked about learning, about gathering new experiences - as though his cricketing education wasn't complete, as though there were many more strands of his craft to hone. His journey, you could tell, was driven by self-improvement. One word has attached itself to Dravid wherever he has gone: gentleman. The word is often misunderstood. Gentlemanliness is not mere surface charm - the easy lightness of confident sociability. Far from it: the real gentleman doesn't run around flattering everyone in sight, he makes sure he fulfils his duties and obligations without drawing attention to himself or making a fuss. Gentlemanliness is as much about restraint as it is about appearances. Above all, a gentleman is not only courteous, he is also constant: always the same, whatever the circumstances or the company. In that sense, Dravid is a true gentleman. Where many sportsmen flatter to deceive, Dravid runs deep. He is a man of substance, morally serious and intellectually curious. For all his understatement, he couldn't fail to convey those qualities to anyone who watched him properly. I last bumped into Dravid late last year at a charity dinner at the Sydney Cricket Ground. He was the same as he always has been - warm, self-deprecating, curious about the lives of others. As ever, he made a point of asking about my parents - their health and happiness - although he has never met them. Family and friendship, you sense, are central to his life and his values. In the q&a that followed his speech, one answer got close to the core of his personality. What motivated him still, after all these years and so many runs? Dravid said that as a schoolboy, he remembered many kids who had at least as much desire to play professional cricket as he did - they attended every camp and net session, no matter what the cost or the difficulty of getting there. But you could tell - from just one ball bowled or one shot played - that they simply didn't have the talent to make it. He knew he was different. "I was given a talent to play cricket," Dravid explained. "I don't know why I was given it. But I was. I owe it to all those who wish it had been them to give of my best, every day." What a brilliant inversion of the usual myth told by professional sportsmen: that they had unexceptional talent and made it to the top only because they worked harder. Dravid spoke the truth. Yes, he worked hard. But the hard work was driven by the desire to give full expression to a God-given talent. On the field, what set Dravid apart was a rare combination of technical excellence, mental toughness and emotional restraint. He was restrained in celebration, just as he was restrained in disappointment - exactly as the true gentleman should be. And yet his emotional self-control co-existed with fierce competitiveness and national pride. Dravid has single-handedly disproved the absurd argument that tantrums and yobbishness are a sign of "how much you care" or, worse still, "how much you want it". Dravid was rarely outdone in terms of hunger or passion. And he was never outdone in terms of behaviour or dignity. Those twin aspects of his personality - the dignified human being and the passionate competitor - ran alongside each other, the one never allowed to interfere with the other. He knew where the boundaries were, in life and in cricket. I am an optimist by nature. I do not think that sport is perpetually declining from some mythical golden age. But sometimes I cannot avoid the sense that a certain type of sportsman is an increasingly endangered species. I have that feeling now, as Dravid declares his innings closed. No longer will he take guard with that familiar hint of politeness, even deference. No longer will he raise his bat to the crowd as if he is genuinely thanking them for their applause - the bat tilted outwards in acknowledgement of the supporters, not just waved frantically in an orgy of personal celebration. No longer will he stand at first slip, concise and precise in his movements - a cricketer first, an athlete second. No longer will the high Dravid back-swing and meticulous footwork link this generation with the great technicians of the past. It would be nice to argue that no cricketer is irreplaceable, that sport is defined by continuity rather than full stops, that there will soon be another Dravid, another champion cricketer of timeless steel and dignity. But I don't think there will be. I think Dravid will be remembered as the last in a great tradition of batsmen whose instincts and temperament were perfectly suited to Test match cricket. It is not an exaggeration to say that a whole strand of the game - a rich vein that runs through the game's poetic heart - departs the scene with India's greatest ever No. 3. Playing Twenty20 cricket won't teach anyone to become the next Rahul Dravid. In years to come, perhaps too late, we may realise what we have lost: the civility, craft and dignity that Dravid brought to every cricket match in which he played.

[Chandan]

The wolf who lived for the pack Rahul Dravid was always a team man, willing to take up challenges for the greater good; and the acceptance of challenges has defined his cricket Harsha Bhogle March 9, 2012 Rahul Dravid: attractive and correct on and off the field Ž© AFP Rahul Dravid batted exactly like the person he is: stately and upright, dignity and poise his two shoulders, standing up to everything coming at him with minimum fuss. He picked his shots carefully, almost like he was weighing the risk for fear of letting himself and his side down. There was little about him that was flamboyant - there isn't with an oak - and patiently, brick by brick, he built giant edifices. He is a good man and he batted like a good man. And like with most of his choices in life, he has chosen well again. He has not craved a full house on its feet, there has been no grandstanding. The retirement is a sports-page event not a gossip item. He knew it was time. "I'm sure you have thought it through," I said when he called. "I know this is the time," he said. "Any longer and it will be for the wrong reason." I expected nothing less from a man it has been my privilege to watch and to know for 16 years. It was but a feather that prevented him from getting a century on debut at Lord's. He would have liked it, for he has this sense of history about him. He would have wanted to be on that honours board, and 15 years later he inscribed his name there with a Dravid special. They love him there like he is one of their own, and indeed England has been a recurring motif in his life. The 1999 World Cup; the majesty of 2002, when he outbatted the world and produced one of his finest innings in Leeds; winning a series as captain in 2007; and then those three centuries last year that reminded us once again what Test cricket was all about. At Lord's he remained not out from No. 3; at Trent Bridge he opened the batting and was ninth out; and at The Oval, at the age of 38, he had but ten minutes between deliveries as he batted through the innings for six and a half hours, before returning to open the batting. A standing ovation had just died down before another took its place. I stood too, not for the first time. And he loved to explore England, on foot, in buses and in trains; always asking about the latest musical and offering extended reviews of those he had seen. One such exploration took him to Scotland, from where he returned humbler, if that was indeed possible. He was getting paid to play, he said, but everyone else was paying to play - taking unpaid leave, shutting down shops, all for the sheer joy of playing. He learnt, he said, how much you can take for granted as an international star. I can see why he will continue to be a giver, why his doors will be open for other cricketers. And I hope they learn from him never to say no. There were two things Dravid didn't really love in cricket: opening the batting and keeping wicket. He was asked to do both at various times, and I asked him if he ever contemplated saying no. He didn't enjoy it, he said, but took it as a challenge, to see how good he could be. This acceptance of challenges is what has defined his cricket and made him one of the finest team players there has been. A challenge, he said, allowed him to understand himself better, it gave him a reason to play sport. If he shied away, he would never know how good he could be. He kept wicket in about 70 one-day internationals, never most convincingly, but he allowed himself to look bad for the team to look good. It was always the team for him and in the little piece he wrote for the book that my wife Anita and I did, he quoted Kipling: for the strength of the wolf is the pack and the strength of the pack is the wolf. It was nice to see a cricketer quoting from literature. The team is like a pot, Dravid often says. Some put in and some take out. The more who put in, the fuller it gets, and those were the players he enjoyed playing with the most: those who put into the pot. He was one of the leading contributors and there was never an effort at gaining sympathy or media attention for it. He gave quietly. He was one of the reasons why India recovered so quickly from the match-fixing issue around the turn of the century. India had some outstanding men of integrity at the time. Tendulkar, Dravid, Kumble, Ganguly, Laxman and Srinath. It was a good group to belong to. The turn of the century was also the coming of age of Dravid as an international cricketer. He had proved people wrong about his ability to play one-day cricket at the World Cup but then went to Australia convinced he needed to do well there to gain respect. It is a word he will often use in conversation ("the respect in your dressing room and that of your opponents is what matters") but in quest of it that time, he tried too hard, cocooning himself into a mass of nervous energy. He struggled but returned in 2003, at the height of his powers as a batsman, to peel off a double-century in Adelaide that won India a famous Test. He scored many in that phase, most of them away and throughout his career, his home and away averages have sat close together. It is the mark of a genuinely great player. And it is away that the most memorable innings were played: in New Zealand in 1999, England in 2002, Australia and Pakistan in 2003-04, and in the West Indies in 2006. To that extent he was the true successor to Sunil Gavaskar. And his father will be proud of that. Oh, we family folk are suckers for that kind of sentiment. In 1994, when I used to do the highlights of domestic cricket for ESPN, Dravid's father would often call to ask if he could get highlights of his son's batting. The request was always very politely made and a thank you was always offered when I met him. You can see the shyness in the genes, the correctness. I don't mention it lightly. In our obsession with saluting the here and now we sometimes ignore what produced success. If Dravid senior was proud of his young man, Rahul was proud enough of his mother to be the photographer when she received her PhD. It might seem a small thing to do but it tells you a lot about the person. Giant edifices are built on solid foundations. And so it is with a touch of emotion that I will say goodbye to India's finest No. 3. He wasn't the Wall, not for me. Yes, his defence was as perfect as it could get, his steeliness so admirable, but he played shots that warmed the heart. The cover drive, with the big stride forward, and the prettiest of them all - the whip through midwicket played so late and while so nimble on his toes. He will be missed, as the great always are. He will see his children grow, take them to school, imbibe in them the reading habit (for he read more than most people I know and couldn't understand why others didn't), but from time to time he must tell the new flowers that will inevitably bloom in our cricket of the need to put grit over beauty, team over self, challenge before rejection, humility before arrogance, for that is what he stood for. Well played, my friend. You have the honour of leaving the game richer with your legacy and none of us can ask for anything more than that.

[Chandan]

Scottie Pippen "Second Banana" Syndrome by THECRICKETCOUCH on MARCH 10, 2012 Together, they won six championships: Three in a row, two-year break and then, three in a row. They are the central pieces of one of the greatest dynasties in the sport. They are both among the 50 greatest players to have ever played the sport. They were the Batman and Robin. They were the Johnny Carson and Ed McMahon. They are easily one of the very best duos of all time. They are Michael Jordan and Scottie Pippen. Yet, Scottie Pippen does not have the same reverence and recognition as Michael Jordan. He comes second best in all possible comparisons with Michael Jordan. Jordan is exalted as the greatest to have ever picked a basketball while Pippen had as much hand in the glory that catapulted Jordan to that status as Jordan himself. Michael Jordan may be proclaimed the greatest artist with the ball in hand, but without the six championship rings the legend of Jordan doesn't exist. Pippen didn't win a championship without Jordan and Jordan didn't win a championship without Pippen. Yet, Pippen is called the "Second banana? Forever in the shadows of His Airness. Thirteen thousand two hundred eighty eight test runs. One hundred sixty four test matches played. Second highest run maker ever in the history of the sport as he calls time on his international career. He was an integral part of a golden generation of players from a cricket-mad nation that reached the top of the test tree. He spearheaded India to its first ever test series win in the archrival's backyard. More than 10,000 runs in a format he was considered unsuited for, which he eventually mastered. Rahul Sharad Dravid. He would have been idolized and worshipped as the best man to have ever picked up a bat from his country, if not for one Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar. Forever in the shadows of His Godness. The Chicago Bulls head coach Phil Jackson had instituted a new system to play basketball for his team, "The Triangle" It allowed the latitude for players to perform different roles within the system but it was predicated on a player to perform multiple things and that player was Scottie Pippen. Even though he was a forward, he handled the ball as a point guard, played defense against the opposition's best players and provided a general security blanket that allowed for Jordan to do his own thing. It made Jordan's life a lot easier and focus a lot more on being the finisher. Sound familiar? Rahul Dravid played out most of his career from the vital number three spot but moved around the batting order sometimes willingly and other times forced by injuries in the team and form allowing for his more expansive team mates to take advantage of his assured presence at the other end. Almost 36% of all the runs that India scored as team came while Dravid was at the crease. Watching him carry the bat through at The Oval in the first innings and step in for a short 10 minutes only to emerge to take guard again encapsulated his contributions to the Indian team. Jordan was the first true global sports icon. It was a seamless blend of Jordan's basketball prowess and image marketing, engineered by Nike. Since then, there have been many: Tiger Woods, Roger Federer, Michael Schumacher, David Beckham and others. Jordan's career came at a time when the intersection of the realms of athletes and celebrity was taking foothold, in an international scale. Sachin Tendulkar's career took off at an interesting time in India. The coincidence of a burgeoning economy, a nation trying to lose the shackles of its past and the explosion of the perfect package of a personable, pint sized precocious talent in the biggest cricket market is undeniable. People say if Jacques Kallis, the best all round cricketer this side of Sir Garfield Sobers, were Indian, he would have been celebrated as the greatest ever. Even if he were Indian, an important question to answer would be, "would his career have been running parallel to Tendulkar's" If he were caught in the tsunami of Sachin madness of the 90's, it wouldn't have made one difference. He would probably still be the second banana, unfortunately. Though supremely talented, both their individual games relied on different aspects of batsmanship. Dravid's approach relied heavily on blunting the opposition and grinding them to dust and minimizing the risk of getting out. This isn't to say that was the only way he batted, of course, as innings such as this would attest. Tendulkar pre-2004 anyway was more towards the cavalier, eye-catching and flair filled approach. Tendulkar appeared on the scene when it was the perfect storm of circumstances and is a freak of nature. He is only a few months younger than Dravid but debuted 6 years ahead of him and plans to continue till who knows when! Dravid is a lot closer to Tendulkar than Pippen would ever be to Jordan in terms of public imagination and on-field accomplishments as a player, but this isn't a zero-sum game. Appreciating Tendulkar for what he is, what he is perceived to be is not a knock on Dravid. When Tendulkar is talked about, the word "genius" gets thrown around. Dravid evokes something more human. He exemplifies qualities that we wish to see in ourselves. But both are equally important to the grander scheme of Indian cricket. If indeed Dravid is the second banana, he is the best and the greatest second banana of all time.

[vvvslaxman]

http://www.sportstaronnet.com/stories/20120322504801500.htm Found on W.V.Raman twitter ON THE BALL / W.V. RAMAN COLUMN Playing for the right reasons Rahul Dravid's timing of his retirement was discussed at length but what was missed amidst all the excitement was that he did not go to Australia because he succeeded in England. He went with the genuine intention of contributing to the team in Australia, a sojourn which was always a tough one. Team India was doing the pre-match warm up at the Wanderers on the second day of the Test in 1996 when Allan Donald ran past Rahul Dravid whispering the words, ªìood morning Geoffrey? The jibe implied that Dravid was taking too long to score his runs. Typical of Dravid, he ignored the taunt in the same manner he did the deliveries pitched outside the off stump. He went on to complete his maiden Test century and frustrate the South African attack for a long time. The same evening as the team was leaving for the hotel, Sachin Tendulkar looked at Rahul and said, ªáapan aaj raathri Chinese khavuyaa in Marathi which I suppose meant, ªóe are having Chinese tonight? The response for this invite cum compliment was a quiet nod from the polite rookie. Dravid had patented to respond to situations on the field as also the remarks with precision and aplomb. To do so over a matter of 16 years like a machine takes some doing and when he felt that the responses did not match the demands of the situation when the team needed them, Dravid decided to do something about it. His deliberation resulted in him quitting the international stage that he made his own with the utmost dedication, selflessness and commitment. The press conference was addressed with the same precision that he handled more than 30,000 deliveries in Test cricket, but most importantly the best part about the occasion was the tie and jacket that Dravid chose to wear on the day he bid adieu. Even after all that he has achieved over the years, the inherent simplicity has remained intact in as much as the pride of wearing the India tie and blazer has. It is no wonder that parents wish that their kids emulate him more than the other superheroes of the World. He has been cited as an example not only within the cricketing fraternity but also in all other walks of life, a fact that I am sure will make even the modest Dravid proud. The habit of citing Dravid for just about anything had reached a stage where it was taken for granted by a few that he cannot indulge in some personal pleasures and comforts. I heard of a very curious as well as a funny incident when Dravid acquired a fancy set of wheels sometime ago. Apparently a coach was in the habit of telling upcoming cricketers that focus on cricket should overlap the glitz and glamour and wound up by stating that Dravid still drove around in a mid-segment car. A few days later the coach saw Dravid drive into the stadium in his new car and grumbled to him that henceforth he would have to stop citing him as an example. When Dravid was appraised of the background he told the coach calmly to carry on with the same line but with a slight change that the fancy car was bought after 15 years of international cricket! Dravid's timing of his retirement was discussed at length but what was missed amidst all the excitement was that he did not go to Australia because he succeeded in England. He went with the genuine intention of contributing to the team in Australia, a sojourn which was always a tough one. I find it strange to see people mulling whether he would have retired had he scored in Australia, but I seriously wonder if he would have been allowed to retire after the England tour as some have suggested. Quite obviously, he wanted the youngsters to have the benefit of easing into international cricket in familiar home territory. I am certain that he would have been picked for the home series if he were not to retire, but the point is that Dravid has been driven by challenges and true to his character he has seen things from the standpoint of Indian cricket even as he walked into the sunset. ªé had to play for the right reasons, is a statement that should be etched on the Wall that one gets to see upon entering the Chinnaswamy Stadium. Perhaps it should even be written and stuck by the youngsters on the insides of their kit bag. The Colossus has left a huge void which may not be filled at all and if someone in the future ends doing half as much as Dravid did in his time, Indian cricket will become stronger and richer. However, I dare say that it will be a miracle to see someone play the game with such distinction in the dignified manner that Rahul Sharath Dravid did. He will be the one and only in that regard and it will be a trifle heart-wrenching in the months to come to see an Indian score sheet without one R. S. Dravid in it. Thanks Jam, for all the joy you gave all these years while contributing immensely to Indian cricket. Please expect a call some years hence wherein you will have to confirm to my grandchildren that a legend called Dravid played under me for South Zone. I wish you all the very best in your future endeavours.

[Chandan]

What Makes A Player Dravid-Like? Akash Chopra 14 March, 2012 It took Dravid's retirement to force us out of our slumber. Crucial questions like "who would clinch No.3"" Who would be the next Dravid"Âre beginning to surface only now as India finds itself in the lurch. Ironically, the same voices, vehemently campaigning for his retirement, are now looking for a Dravid clone. Unfortunately though, in the midst of all this talk surrounding the new No.3, the larger, more critical point has been missed "What makes a player Dravid-like" What is it that made Dravid, 'Dravid'? Whoever aspires to fill that void now, must realize, that Rahul Dravid wasn't just a name, but a whole philosophy. Live like a monk Even on days, when there wasn't a cricket match the next day, Dravid would still prefer to follow a set routine, including hitting the sack early and waking up early too. This meant that he didn't have to adjust to a new routine when a Test series came calling. One would never see him rushing into things. He liked his life hassle-free, on field and off it too. Running towards the team bus with a muffin in hand wasn't "Dravid-like" Everything was planned meticulously, even his time spent on the breakfast table. Test cricket is but an extension of one's life. Much of the endurance, persistence and the wisdom that Dravid showed through these sixteen years came from the life he lived, from the person he was. India has great talent, undoubtedly. But, would a young cricketer, living in today's day and age, want to slow down, make sacrifices, and transform his lifestyle to be a purist? Will he want to live the life of a monk? Value your wicket After the first edition of the IPL, both Dravid and I agreed that our biggest concern, with regards to 20-20 cricket, was the idea of getting out for a paltry 30. That it wasn't blasphemous needed some convincing. Players grown up in that era when leaving balls, waiting for the right ones, and curbing one's natural instincts was considered mature, were made to believe that one must make every start count, and that getting out after reaching 20s was a bigger crime than getting a single digit score. The time tested formula to decipher a batsman's role in the side was to divide 150 overs amongst top six batsmen, which meant each batsman must bat 30 overs each, every time. But, that's not the case now. Today's cricket, especially 20-20, puts very little value on a wicket. It's not only acceptable but also mandatory to get out cheaply in order to accelerate the scoring rate. In fact, making amends to last longer is not even encouraged. It's hard to imagine, how gen-next brought up on T20s staple diet, would learn to value their wicket in Test cricket. Dravid wasn't called The Wall for nothing. Team before Self If Tendulkar has been the God of cricket, Dravid has been that Great, who kids growing up in the last decade or so, have learnt to both eulogize and emulate. To be Tendulkar one had to be blessed, but one could still aspire to be a Dravid with intense passion, resilience and honesty. Dravid gave a whole generation a hope to live by, that honest and hardworking people do ultimately reach the top. He didn't start as a genius or even the most technically correct batsman, but kept evolving as a batsman as his career progressed. He needed to raise the bar to become relevant in the shorter formats, he needed to score at a fair clip in Tests to give bowlers enough time to bowl the opposition out twice, and he did all of that and more. He also did things that he didn't have to, like keeping wickets to lengthen the batting, opening in Test cricket because no one could do the job then, even demoted himself in the batting order to play the role of a finisher. He did all that to give the team its best chance to win the game. Will we ever find such a self-less man? Well, No. 3 will eventually be taken up. A lot of runs may also be scored at that position. But Dravid shall continue to define that spot for decades to come. These shoes will be hard to fill.

[Crookbond]

Numbers Tell Only Part of Indian Cricketer's Story Source - http://www.nytimes.com/2012/03/14/sports/cricket/14iht-cricket14.html

It is hard to find anyone with a bad word to say about Rahul Dravid. Whether they are about his technique, temperament, team spirit or personality, all the tales are positive about Dravid, the Indian who announced his retirement from international play last week. If cricket had one, Dravid, 39, would be a certain first-ballot Hall of Famer. His 13,288 runs in five-day tests are second only to his India teammate, Sachin Tendulkar, the only contemporary batsman unquestionably better than him. DravidÃÔ 24,208 runs in all types of international cricket are fourth. Dravid also took 210 catches in tests, a record for a non-wicket-keeper. But numbers tell only part of the story. Dravid was the supreme batting technician of his time. His nickname of ŵhe Wall, which he dislikes, does him little justice. It says nothing of the quickness of thought, the impeccable footwork and the perfect balance that made him so difficult to dismiss. It was as if a coaching manual had been brought to life. The purity of his stroke play and the elegant economy of his movement meant he was never dull to watch. Technique, though, will take you only so far without the right temperament. One of the most telling tributes to him has come from one of IndiaÃÔ next generation of stars, Rohit Sharma, 24, who said that Dravid taught him about ÅÑutting a price on your wicketÃñ and that ÅÏo matter what condition and situation you are batting in, never give up. Just be there, feel the heat, feel the pressure. Å©e was the master at staying patient for long, long periods of time, said the Australian fast bowler Jason Gillespie. India has plenty of flamboyant young stroke players, and Dravid, who will continue to play in the Indian Premier League, said they are ÅÎuch more talented than I was at 23. But it remains to be seen whether any will match his ability to play long innings in tough conditions, a skill that was evident from his first innings in test cricket. He came in with India struggling against England at LordÃÔ in June 1996, then scored 95 runs in partnership with Saurav Ganguly, who also was making his debut for the national team. For Dravid, that day was the shape of things to come playing magnificently for his country, only to be overshadowed by someone else, as Ganguly went on to score 131. He played alongside brilliant contemporaries in the Indian lineup. Tendulkar became a demigod for his batting feats. Ganguly was captain of India for years, while VVS Laxman played the greatest single innings in his countryÃÔ history, hitting 281 against the all-conquering Australians in Kolkata in 2001. Each, though, owed much to Dravid. He and Tendulkar scored more runs in partnership than any other pair of batsmen in test history. Dravid was the vice captain for Ganguly, and he was the supportive partner at the other end for most of LaxmanÃÔ epic display against Australia. Batting has an inherent element of selfishness. As former the Kent and England batsman Ed Smith said on BBC radio recently, ÅÕhe insecurity drives most of us mad. Dravid stayed sane, balanced and aware of the bigger picture. Some batsmen always play their own innings. Dravid invariably played, or at least tried to play, the innings that his team needed. Even though he was a senior player, he took on the demanding role of wicket-keeper in 73 of his 344 one-day internationals so India could field a better balanced team. And he was universally well-liked. Ūt was great to find that a man who had always appeared so incredibly decent, was indeed that, the British filmmaker Sam Collins said after interviewing Dravid about the future of test cricket. If there was anything more impressive than DravidÃÔ three innings of 100 or more as IndiaÃÔ batting crumbled around him in England last year, it was how he spoke in news conferences that followed. He was thoughtful, lucid and intelligent, treating the most convoluted or inane questions with courtesy and respect. Dravid is rich. He is smart. He can certainly make a good living outside cricket, and he would not be blamed for steering clear of the byzantine politics surrounding the game in his home country. But cricket needs India, the economic superpower in the game, to have enlightened leadership. One can only hope that Rahul DravidÃÔ influence on the game is not ending, but just beginning.

[Chandan]

A cricketer most evolved Every time Rahul Dravid found a glitch in his batting, he did everything he could to correct it. Even when it required superhuman effort Aakash Chopra March 19, 2012 Rahul Dravid: not a natural off-side player I still fondly recall that brisk summer evening in Australia in early 2004 - we'd levelled the series for first time in a long time in that country*. Rahul Dravid, my senior, my hero, sat next to me in a rather cheery dressing room, and I hesitantly, anxiously probed him about my batting, hoping to get his two-cents. And he, as always, was eager to help. Besides the many things that I picked up from him that day, the one that really stuck was the first step towards greatness - his honesty and humility. Dravid, in his classic self-effacing way, had confessed to being, for most part, an on-side player. The bowlers had come to know of his strengths and had stopped feeding him on his legs. He had to find another way to score runs, he admitted. Which was how he became one of cricket's outstanding off-side batsmen. That was an overwhelming revelation for me - what seemed like Dravid's second nature was in fact practised and perfected. Just a few days ago he'd stunned everyone with his stupendous double-century in Adelaide. This was an innings punctuated by an array of breathtaking cover drives, piercing the smallest of gaps with surgical precision. How could one believe that his impeccable off-side play didn't come naturally to him, after all? It was only my second series for India, but Dravid had already become my go-to man, my mentor, with regards to both technical and temperamental queries. His confession had been in response to my concern about my inability to score big runs despite getting good starts - he didn't have to expose the chinks in his armour, but he did. To be simple is to be "great". Years later that chat with Dravid made me go back and search for videos of his batting during the early part of his career. I wanted to know if the confession had just been an attempt to pep me up. What I found out made me respect Dravid, the man and the batsman, even more. When he started out, Dravid used to crouch a lot more in his stance, with his head falling over a bit towards the off side. His bat, coming from the gully region, forced him to make a huge loop at the top of the backlift. Both the backlift and the falling head allowed him to punish anything that was even marginally on his legs. His wide backlift also made him a good cutter of the ball, provided there was width on offer. On the flip side, it meant fewer front-foot strokes on the off side. In fact, mid-off was rarely brought into play. During one of our recent chats, Dravid said that because he grew up playing on jute matting wickets, he became a good back-foot player and also strong on the legs, for the bounce allowed him to work the balls, even the ones pitched within the stumps, towards the on side. He was a bottom-hand dominated player, he said. The knowledge of where his off stump was, coupled with immense patience, ensured Dravid continued to score bucketful of runs in Test cricket, in spite of the bowlers finding him out. Runs were coming but not as briskly as he would have liked. He had to spend a longer time at the crease to accumulate those runs, which eventually cost him his place in the ODI set-up. He needed to find ways to open up his off-side play. That's when he chose not to get behind the line of the ball at all times while also starting to use the top hand a lot more. An ardent follower of the Gavaskar school of batting, Dravid, in the beginning, would go back and across before the ball was bowled, and then further across to get behind the line of the ball. While this method worked well in Test cricket, it needed some tinkering to suit the shorter format. So, instead of going back and across, he preferred going back and back to ensure he stayed besides the ball more often, which allowed him to free his arms while playing through the off. These tweaks were successful and Dravid went on to play his finest cricket in that period. There's something about batting that is so addictive. Whenever you think you have mastered your biggest shortcoming and can breathe easy, something else unwanted creeps into your system. While the back-and-back trigger movement worked really well for Dravid, his front foot started going a bit too across. The movement across the stumps allows you to cover the swing a little better but it also blurs your judgement of lines, with regard to deciding which deliveries to play and which to leave alone. Mitchell Johnson, with his line that goes across the right-hander, forced Dravid to play at deliveries he would have left alone if his front foot had not gone so far across. And uncharacteristically, Dravid got out - fishing outside the off stump - on more than a few occasions. Once again, the challenge was to find a solution to this latest technical glitch. Dravid's answer was to completely eliminate the trigger movement and stay perfectly still till the bowler released the ball. Now, it may sound like a simple adjustment, but a batsman will tell you that it is perhaps the toughest one to make. Even though the movement occurs before the ball is bowled, and is only a few millimetres, it's as important as the movement after the ball is bowled. The trigger movement sets the body in motion and allows it to get into right positions after the ball is bowled. Eliminating the trigger movement is like engaging the fifth gear right after turning on the ignition. The catch is that it will not work if you are constantly thinking about not moving. The only thing you should be thinking about while standing is your response to the delivery. Even though it must have taken hundreds of hours of practice to get it into his system, so as to make it absolutely seamless, Dravid went through the grind. Nothing great was ever accomplished without passion. Dravid went on to have the best Test series of his career, in England in 2011. He was not only getting runs but was also extremely fluent. Yet this adjustment meant he didn't have a second line of defence, which meant that if he got beaten he'd get bowled and not trapped leg-before. And that's what happened in Australia. Dravid eliminated the trigger movement to open up his off-side play but it made him susceptible to getting bowled Dravid, all along, had been well aware of the risks involved. But it was a gamble he was ready to take; he gave something to get something in return. Much hullabaloo was made of Dravid's dismissals in Australia - as if being bowled was dishonourable. Getting dismissed essentially means getting beaten by a bowler. What difference does it make whether one is bowled, lbw or caught behind? Knowing Dravid, he would have found ways, yet again, to address this slip and would have continued to play successfully. For him, nothing was unachievable. And perhaps that's what made Rahul Dravid the most evolved cricketer of this era. For him, change didn't just mean survival. It also meant the maturity to create endlessly. His desire for growth was intense enough to work on both conscious and unconscious levels: while he intentionally worked on his trigger movement and playing beside the line, things like his stance - which was more upright in the latter half of his career - and the straighter descent of the bat happened over the period. In cricket, like in life, it is not the most talented who survive, nor the most intelligent, but the ones who are most responsive to change. Dravid's career was an eternal quest to get better. Everything he did was to, as he puts it best, "deliver the bat at the right time".

[rabinjackman]

amazing list of articles posted in this thread, truly enjoyed reading all of them, thanks all :hatsoff:

[Chandan]

Struggle and perseverance defined Rahul Dravid's career Dileep Premachandran Mar 9, 2012 Rahul Dravid was rare among elite sportsmen in that he never gave off an aura of invincibility. It was struggle that defined him, and perseverance that made him a great of the game. "I wish I could play like Tendulkar or Lara," he once said. It was not an admission of weakness, more an acknowledgement he had done what he did without being gifted with the same strokemaking ability. A strike rate of 42 runs every 100 balls suggests a dour batsman that specialised in wearing down the opposition. However, Dravid was anything but the defensive "Wall" that he came to be known as. During the course of an illustrious one-day career - he was India's most consistent batsman against the top sides when they reached the World Cup final in 2003 - he scored more than 10,000 runs, including a 22-ball 50. The style he adopted in Test cricket, where he faced a record 31,258 deliveries, had much to do with the limitations of the Indian side at the time. The man he replaced, Sanjay Manjrekar, had not done justice to his talent despite starting his career with away hundreds against the West Indies and Pakistan. It was a line-up that relied heavily on Sachin Tendulkar. Dravid's role was to provide the solidity that had been largely absent since the two Mumbai stalwarts, Sunil Gavaskar and Dilip Vengsarkar, retired. There was something of both men and the Mumbai school of hard knocks in the way that Dravid approached an innings. Resolute in defence, and equally at ease off front and back foot, he could also drive and cut with real elegance. His 95 on debut at Lord's was impressive but the first glimpse of the batsman he would become was against a superb South African pace attack at Durban in 1996. India were skittled for 100 and 66, and Dravid remained unbeaten on 27 in the second innings, batting two hours on a well-grassed pitch when some of his teammates clearly did not fancy the contest. The impressive numbers tell only part of the story, because even in his prime, Dravid was India's go-to guy. Need a stopgap wicketkeeper to balance the one-day side? No problem. Want someone to open the innings against Shoaib Akhtar in Pakistan? Call the No 3. Where others refused to budge from their comfort zones, Dravid was always ready to step up. Of the three hundreds he made during India's disastrous tour of England last year, two came while batting as makeshift opener. At The Oval, he carried his bat for 146 out of a total of 300. The intensity that made him a great batsman did not always help his captaincy, but a record of eight wins and six losses in a period of great tumult should not be disregarded. His reign included a first series win in the West Indies since 1971 and the only success in England since 1986. Though the drops became more frequent towards the end of his career, for more than a decade, he was also peerless standing at slip. Some of the catches he took off the spinners, especially Anil Kumble, featured exceptional reflexes and the softest of hands. For most with such an extensive catalogue of achievement, putting together a highlights reel can be tricky. In Dravid's case, though, there was one match that encapsulated everything you needed to know about his brand of batsmanship. At Adelaide in December 2003, he batted 835 minutes for scores of 233 and 72 not out. India had conceded 556 and then slipped to 81 for four before Dravid and VVS Laxman transformed the game with a triple-century partnership, just as they had so famously at Eden Gardens two years earlier. On the final day, he again glued the innings together as India made hard work of chasing down 230. Such was Steve Waugh's appreciation at the end of the match that he went to the gutter, picked up the ball and presented it to Dravid after the winning runs had been cut through point. Dravid, who so admired Waugh's flint-hard approach to the game, still considers it one of his proudest moments. Most of all, though, in an age when athletes are increasingly disconnected from reality, Dravid never lost perspective. Centuries in the Caribbean, England and on home soil meant that his final season was a memorable one, despite the debacle in Australia. "Good season or not, the time is right to go," he said. "When your body and mind start sending you signs, you know. It's also time for Indian cricket to look forward." When those who watched India's golden generation achieve unparalleled success look back, however, they might fully appreciate the contributions of a colossus - unassuming, polite, articulate and always aware that the game and the team came before the individual.

[Chandan]

Your regular, everyday superstar One of the great things about Rahul Dravid was how, without being falsely modest, he could leave cricket behind when off the field and connect with the world at a real level Sambit Bal March 9, 2012 Dravid: a normalcy about him that is almost abnormal It's hard not to feel a bit emotional today. Journalism has instilled in us the discipline of detachment, but it feels impossible at this hour to separate Rahul Dravid the cricketer I have watched from afar from the man I have come to know to a degree of proximity. The last time I felt this way about a retirement was when Sunil Gavaskar went in 1987. I was merely a fan then, and it was through Gavaskar, my first hero, that I related to cricket. I felt personally cheated that his departure came without a warning. It left me with an emptiness that I dreaded I would never fill, and a gnawing feeling that I might never be able to feel about the game the same way again. Of course I was wrong. Dravid's retirement doesn't come as a surprise. If you knew him, you ought to have expected it. The manner of his departure bears the stamp of the man: not for him the fanfare of a build-up to a farewell Test, the showmanship of a final doffing of the hat, or the milking of emotions. He wouldn't be human if he hadn't wished for a better finish than an airy, un-Dravid-like waft far away from body that carried to ball into the lap of gully, but he was mature and pragmatic to accept that fairytale endings are a matter of chance: it would have been futile trying to wait for one or to try to manufacture one. But though it feels right that Dravid should go this way, it's hard to feel uninvolved. Take this as a declaration of interest: with Dravid I strayed from the unwritten code of journalism of never befriending a subject. It's not that I cultivated a friendship with him deliberately. It developed organically over the years, over phone calls about the occasional pieces he has written for us, over meals on tours, over chats about parenting and books, over shared thoughts and interests. That none of it has ever felt wrong has been down to the kind of person he is. There are qualities about him that are naturally attractive. I remember the first time I spoke to him. It was in the second half of 2002. I was editing Wisden Asia Cricket, a fledgling magazine, and we were putting together a special issue on Sachin Tendulkar, who was due to play his 100th Test that September. I was unsure of what to expect. I had a small budget and I was determined to keep editorial pages free of sponsor logos. I was prepared for him to turn me down, but I dreaded having to deal with an agent. Dravid was friendly over the phone. He heard out the brief, asked about word-count and deadline, and said yes. I offered to have someone call him and take the piece down, but he was clear that he wanted to write it himself. The question of a fee didn't come up. It was unprofessional of me not to have specified it, but I had been embarrassed to make an offer. The piece turned up on the appointed date, more than a thousand words long, well-structured, thoughtful, with a touch of humour, and not a comma out of place. He later told me he had had it cleaned up by a friend, which I found even more impressive. He cared. We sent him a cheque, and he did write a few more pieces for us the following year, but the real motivation, I was to learn later, was to test himself at something different. Indian cricket has been blessed in the last couple of decades with a group of exceptional cricketers who have conducted themselves with the kind of dignity that sometimes escapes celebrities. I have the good fortune to know some of them. Sachin Tendulkar's humility is not a posture; contrary to his on-field image, Sourav Ganguly is unfailingly courteous and charming; VVS Laxman has an endearing simplicity and a smile that reaches the eyes; and with Anil Kumble, there is a refreshing directness. Dravid has many of these qualities. But there is something else. There is a normalcy about him that is almost abnormal. There are public figures who go out of their way to put you at ease, but the effort is palpable. Dravid does it just by being himself. There is no affectation and artifice to it. Not that he is unaware of his stardom or is falsely modest about his achievements, but he can step outside all that and connect with the world at a real level. It's almost as if he leaves that part of his world behind him when he leaves the cricket field. And perhaps that's why he can see the cricket world from the outside, reflect on it objectively, and see the ironies and futilities of stardom. It's a rare and remarkable quality. It has helped him engage in relationships in the outside world without baggage. And it made him one of the rare cricketers a journalist could afford to be friends with without compromising on professionalism. Through the years, our relationship has never been hostage to what was written about him on ESPNcricinfo under my watch. You could write about a poor performance or a poor run of scores from Dravid without worrying about his response, because you knew that unless it was malicious or patently false, he wouldn't hold it against you. But for someone who rarely cared what was written about him, I found it baffling that he fretted so much about being misunderstood: the perception that despite being fairly accessible to the media he rarely articulated his thoughts and concerns about Indian cricket. He argued that he had his reasons. He once was a guest on a Time Out show with Harsha Bhogle and Sanjay Manjrekar, and while discussing India's younger players he wondered whether, even though many of them said the right things about Test cricket, they had an all-consuming desperation for it, given that they had other avenues. He went on to specify that he wasn't worried about the Suresh Rainas and the Rohit Sharmas, but the ones who came after them. By that evening it was being reported that Dravid had accused Raina of being uninterested in Test cricket. It remained my belief that players needed to take more ownership of the game, and one of the most effective ways of doing it is to take stands on issues that mattered. That's why Dravid's Bradman Oration was impressive, not merely for its erudition but for confronting some of cricket's major challenges head-on. Little were we to know that it would turn out to be his finest performance on his final tour. Retirement has been on his mind for over a year now. We spoke about it during India's tour of South Africa in 2010. He dreaded the idea of lingering on past his time and was mindful of not standing in the way of younger players. Cheteshwar Pujara, to many the ideal successor to Dravid, had made an impressive debut in Bangalore and had taken India to victory with a confident fourth-innings half century, batting, incidentally, at No. 3. But Pujara had already found a place in the team, and for Dravid the idea of a final series in England, where his Test career had started, and where Test cricket remains the most celebrated form, became appealing. With hindsight, nothing would have been more perfect than signing off after the hundred at The Oval. Even the most hopeless optimist wouldn't have forecast a better series for him in Australia. When we spoke a couple of weeks ago, I asked if he regretted not having retired in England. His response was a further revelation of character. He would certainly have retired if he hadn't had a good series, he said, but after doing so well, retiring would have been selfish. There was a series to be won in Australia, and he owed it to the team to make the trip. And no, there were no regrets. He would do it no other way, even if offered a second chance. There should be no sadness about his going. He will be remembered not for his last Test series, where he found every conceivable way to get bowled, but for an extraordinary body of work, for always putting his team first, for honouring the best traditions of the game, for impeccable behaviour in public life, and for being the perfect role model to his peers. In the list of Indian batting greats, he will rank just behind Gavaskar and Tendulkar. For what his performances helped his team achieve, he is perhaps matchless. Barring his final hundreds in England, it's hard to recall a great Dravid innings that didn't either set up a win or help save a Test. For me the man will always be even more special. Tendulkar said yesterday that there can never be another Rahul Dravid. He perhaps meant the cricketer. But it would be far tougher to find a man like him in the Indian dressing room again. In his retirement the side hasn't merely lost a man who could be counted on to stand up at the toughest times, but also a bit of its character. His friendship counts among the most cherished rewards of my life as a cricket journalist. The cricketer will be missed, but the man will be around.

[asterix]

Teammates salute Rahul Dravid's contribution to Indian cricket MUMBAI: The cricketing fraternity came together on Tuesday to raise a toast for the retired Rahul Dravid as they fondly remembered the immense contribution of the batting stalwart who emotionally remarked that he would miss being part of the Indian dressing room. Accolades such as "huge pillar" of Indian cricket "greatest number 3 bat" and one of the "best cricketers and ambassadors" poured in from his former and current teammates who paid glowing tributes in a star-studded felicitation function. Former captains Sourav Ganguly, Anil Kumble, current skipper Mahendra Singh Dhoni and VVS Laxman were among those who spoke at the function attended by a galaxy of former cricketers, BCCI officials and other dignitaries. While describing him as a "huge pillar", Ganguly said Dravid, who announced his retirement from international cricket on March 9, was a great ambassador of the game. "He was one of the huge pillar through which Indian cricket went forward. He is one of the greatest batsmen not just in India but in world cricket," Ganguly said. "You (Dravid) played in an era when Indian cricket went from strength to strength." Ganguly rated his 180 against Australia at the Eden Gardens in 2001 as Dravid's best knock. "As far his best knocks are concerned, there are bound to be debates. But as I had said always, the one at Eden Gardens is the best. Though I rate the knocks overseas highly, I think the knock at Eden with VVS (Laxman) not only established him in world cricket but was also important for Indian cricket. "I am happy that he could take the decision on his own. His contribution to Indian cricket isn't finished with the number of runs he has scored or the catches he has taken, he is a great ambassador." The left-hander said he was lucky to have Dravid as his deputy when he was the captain of the Indian team. "I was lucky to have you as vice-captain for five years, the work behind you and John (Wright) did." Recalling his long career, Dravid said that Dhoni's team winning the ODI World Cup last year was a "special moment" for him. "Mahi, you have to be proud of what you have done with this Indian team... it was a special moment for me to see the group of boys holding the World Cup last year after 2007 (when India were knocked out in the first round). "It was a memorable moment. It was inspiring, as a 10-year-old, to see Kapil Dev lift the World Cup, and to do it again in 2011, was special. I know you have inspired a lot of 10-year-olds, there are challenges but you have the right temperament to take the legacy of Indian team forward." Dravid said having spent so much time with the team, he will now miss being part of the Indian dressing room. "I will miss being part of the dressing room, the banter, the camaraderie but not so much the rap music," Dravid said in a lighter vein. The former Indian captain said that he had made a pact with himself that he would not cry in any of the functions, and it was "tested to the limit" in the last two-three weeks. Kumble, with whom Dravid combined to effect a number of dismissals, felt it would be difficult for anyone to emulate the cricketer. "It's been a great partnership with you Rahul. When we look back we can gladly say we will only remember the wonderful memories. I just spoke about the 55 catches you have taken (off my bowling). "When his first son Samit was born, somebody sms-ed saying caught Dravid bowled Kumble. But his son cannot be Rahul Dravid. It would be easier for his son to take 2 wickets than score the number of runs he has scored, just like it would be easier for my son to have a batting average of 18," Kumble said. "All of us know how he is as a person. During the evening-outs on tours he would know exactly what I hated. He was at times lost in his own thoughts, probably thinking about how he would bat the next day or analysing the day's proceedings. I know in the next couple of months he would be busy with the IPL. I tell you its going to get busier." Dravid ended his Test career with 13,288 runs -- behind only Tendulkar -- in 164 matches, with 36 hundreds and 63 half centuries at an average of 52.31, the 270 against Pakistan being his highest score. In the 50-over format, he scored 10,889 runs from 344 ODIs with 12 centuries and 83 half centuries at an average of 39.16. Laxman, who has been involved in innumerable match-winning partnerships with Dravid, termed the latter as an "all-time great". "It is a great occasion in the presence of the legends and the Indian greats of cricket to celebrate the end of the illustrious career of one of the all-time greats of the game. A great friend and a colleague. "I will definitely be missing you in the dressing room. When I first met you as a 16-year-old, playing for Karnataka Under-19, I was impressed with your passion for the game and your style. We then went on to play for India and I cherish our relationship that blossomed over the years. "In 1996, Rahul made his debut at Lord's where he got out after scoring 95. He must have been really disappointed not to have got his century. But he proved how much effort, hard work and pride he puts into his game when he scored his century at Lord's in 2011. Celebrations showed how much it meant for him to score it at the Lord's for his country. Laxman recalled the sacrifices Dravid made in the interest of the team. "He has always been a very selfless cricketer. And that was proved by the various roles he has donned as a cricketer over the years. Right from opening the batting to keeping, he has always showed that for him team comes first. "All the best to Rahul as he prepares to spend the time with his lovely family. I would also like to congratulate his family for the upbringing and the way he has been. Even after achieving so much he has always remained grounded. I am sure he would contribute to Indian cricket in the future also." Dhoni spoke about how different was Dravid in terms of showing aggression. "At a time when it is considered that aggression is verbal, he never said a word to the opposition. He showed the aggression through taking a catch or staying at the crease and channelise the discomfort and aggression in the best possible manner. "He is one of the greatest to play the game and the greatest to play at number three. He is someone who has got most catches. He was always ready to do anything for the country and the team when it came to opening the batting, wicket keeping, or fielding at silly point or at the slips." Dhoni also said that Dravid would easily overcome difficult phases. "India lost in the first round in the 2007 World Cup and then there was a phase were we won 20-22 matches chasing and Rahul Bhai has been a part of both. He was someone who would walk through the obstacle. "As a wicket keeper, he has taken some catches which many regular keeper wouldn't have. It is a tribute from a lot of youngsters who have learned from Jammy. Not to forget he could play most of the sports well, be it soccer or badminton. He is a true gentleman," Coming back to Ganguly, the left-hander remembered the century Dravid hit in his early days, against Bengal. "In our early days, I remember on an ordinary wicket, he got a hundred. I remember in 1990 he debuted for Karnataka and scored a hundred against Bengal. "It's good to see you leading a side now (Rajasthan Royals in IPL) and hope you come back for the next season too. It's been an honour and pleasure to share some wonderful, tough moments," Ganguly said. http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/sports/cricket/series-tournaments/dravid-bids-adieu/Teammates-salute-Rahul-Dravids-contribution-to-Indian-cricket/articleshow/12431009.cms

[asterix]

Why TOI removed Sachin's name from those who attended this felicitation in MUMBAI? :dontknow:

[beetle]

He wasn't there.