Dravid scripts India’s win, this time he’s named the author

‘‘This one’s more special’’, said Rahul Dravid, when asked to compare the 148 at Headingley with his 11 other centu...

‘‘This one’s more special’’, said Rahul Dravid, when asked to compare the 148 at Headingley with his 11 other centuries. ‘‘This one and the 180 against Australia at Kolkata in March 2001. These are two that stand out’’, he told The Indian Express on the phone a few hours after the victory.

The Headingley Test, said Nasser Hussain, saw the Indians play perfect cricket as they recorded their biggest-ever away win. The Little Master’s record-breaking 193, a skipper’s resolve on spurning the light and walloping the opposition in the dark. The speedsters’ comeback, a spin duo’s defiant answer to those who’d travel with only one slow bowler. An unassuming latecomer’s two wickets and 68 runs, and the cherub’s extended session behind the stumps.

To them all, Dravid provided that solid foundation. And, between the fluent cover drives and those frustrating body blows, finally notched up a first for himself: Man of the Match in an Indian Test victory.

But it’s about more than his own knock to level the series, the Indian vice-captain said. ‘‘It’s a great feeling to win, very satisfying. It is a very important win.’’

Visions of victory came early enough for the team, Dravid said. ‘‘At the end of the first day, I knew here we have a chance to win if we play well.’’ And, as the visitors take advantage of a pre-lunch win and relax — ‘‘we are really tired’’, he sighed, and confessed to lingering soreness after the body blows on the Test’s opening day — only one exertion remains. To decide how to celebrate. ‘‘We’ll probably go out for a meal’’, he said.

To be sure, a personal match award has been a long time coming; till this magical Leeds day, his only two summons to the podium were in 1996/97 — at Johannesburg, where his gritty century helped India sniff victory till the rain played spoiler, and at Georgetown in, alas, another draw.

In the intervening years, a theory about the Dravid school of batting has taken shape. That the stylish Karnataka batsman is an indispensable member of the Indian Test squad, crucial in the team’s fortunes but destined to celebrate at the sidelines: in other words, that old cliche about being the bridesmaid, never the bride.

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That in his very strength lies his weakness: he’s so technically correct that he lacks a basic prerequisite for genius, an occasional dip into the unorthodox. That he’s unflamboyant to a fault, tap-tapping away at his end, allowing his partner to go for his strokes and pile up the big centuries.

The prescription offered, then, has been predictable. Be less defensive and acquire a little more attitude, be less of a Mister Nice Guy and more of a character, be less of a purist and more of a big hitter. Or: give us entertainment, not an exposition of your art.

Fortunately Dravid has bought none of this. Before his Caribbean tour he brushed aside cricitism about his career, saying, ‘‘The thing about a career is that it looks much better once it’s over.’’

Meaning, once immediate diversions don’t take the gaze away from that rarest of achievements for a cricketer in this slam-bang age: a 50-plus average, a bushel of centuries and rememberances of tough rescue acts.

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And before the Leeds Test, he told an interviewer: ‘‘I wouldn’t say I’m defensive, but I think sometimes the situation demands that I put down a solid foundation for the strokemakers to follow. I enjoy doing that. I enjoy batting for long periods. I enjoy frustrating people.’’

That is exactly what he did on the first day of the match, the only day when batting could be declared injurious to one’s health. ‘‘It was definitely better on Friday (day two) and Saturday’’, Dravid agreed today. ‘‘Though it was still a bit uneven.’’ Next stop is The Oval, where the series will be up for grabs. That, Dravid notes, will be another story.