The Pro and the Prodigy

One grew up in a middle-class but comfortable family where academics was perceived to be the path towards an honourable existence. The other grew up in a relatively poorer, deeply religious environment where God and the service of the faithful were paramount.

And yet Rahul Dravid and Irfan Pathan have much in common; nature’s extraordinary ability to grant similar attributes to those plucked from different forests. They are both soft spoken but deeply ambitious, they don’t strut and are very respectful of age and achievement, but more than anything else they seek to learn and to improve. In a gurukul they would have made excellent shishyas!

I remember watching, first with amusement and then with satisfaction, Irfan Pathan staring at Wasim Akram, unable to take his eyes off the great man, cajoling him, pestering him to teach him another ball. The yorker was discussed, the slower ball explained and the merits of bowling straighter when the ball didn’t swing.

Each discussion was followed by an experiment; on the field of play and against the mighty Aussies. This young man wasn’t afraid of being wrong, of an embarrassing attempt, and because of that he had the greatest chance of succeeding.

And suddenly I remembered another young man, slightly older at 23, but only two Test matches old, at a dinner in Toronto where the first Sahara Cup was being held. Ian Chappell was one of our commentators and, as a man who loves the game deeply, he was never far from an interesting conversation.

There was a crowd around him and on the fringe, was young Rahul Dravid, his neck thrust forward like a little child who doesn’t want to miss out on the news. As the crowd thinned, he grew bold to ask a few questions himself. Dinner was secondary, for him and for Chappell. It was the first time I had seen him do it. It hasn’t been the last.

Now these two men, possessors of dignity and a smile, have new challenges ahead of them. Travel and fatigue are appearing on Sachin Tendulkar’s body and in the next couple of months Rahul Dravid will have to move up to playing Tendulkar in the side. He has played that role already, only it hasn’t been called that.

Amid all the talent around him, he will have be the one looked up to; his presence at the crease a sign of calm, his departure the signal for butterflies to flutter. It needn’t be that way but that is how we follow cricket, we like to deposit our hopes on individuals much like we do on our gods.

Tendulkar has done that since he can remember and it is this ability to play with the burden of other’s expectations that makes him one of the game’s immortals. Dravid will feel that should Tendulkar’s elbow fail to heal.

And Pathan will have to keep brushing that halo away when he runs in to bowl for while India will rejoice in it, and keep replenishing it (if one can do that to a halo!), it matters little to Australian batsmen. An award and more money than he could have imagined 10 months ago can produce pride and pain depending on whether they are embraced or kept at arm’s length.

Both will continue to knock at his door should he bowl the ball in the right places and maybe, add another yard of pace. Speed isn’t everything — the resurgence of Chaminda Vaas and the continued excellence of Shaun Pollock are proof of that — but, if he can start nudging 140 kmph, he will have added that little extra zing.

One of Dravid’s greatest strengths has been the ability to keep his feet on the ground. Pathan has it as well.

As you can see, they have much in common.

Oh, and by the way, does Murali chuck? If he does, he shouldn’t be playing. If he doesn’t, how do you leave him out of a world side this year?