I think of all this when I watch Rahul Dravid: his daily search for the struggle, his eagerness to bat on a spiked pitch, his desire to treat every ball like a grenade, his technique to counter any ball on any pitch and, most striking of all, his temperament to put behind the struggle that went before and focus on the struggle that awaits. Not for him a flat pitch on a sunny day. He’s not going to derive immense joy in hitting through the line. He craves a that masochistic joy.
For me, an ideal Dravid innings needs a most challenging pitch. If it’s a batting beauty with the ball coming on to the bat, give me Sehwag or Laxman; if there’s a truly great array of bowlers set to be unleashed, give me Tendulkar. If it’s a minefield, give me Dravid.And then I think of Dravid. Of course I admire him for his technical expertise, his equanimity, his ability to rescue a side. Of course I marvel at the way he bats and bats and bats. Of course I enjoy how he battles a crisis.
But most of all, I’m constantly in awe of his mastery of something we all try and run away from: the struggle.
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