“You don’t cut Muralitharan through the offside, you are crap” I screamed at the skinny mustachioed youth. Ofcourse he didn’t listen to me, couldn’t hear me. He was on television, playing his first ODI against the rampaging Sri Lankans, high on talent and self-belief after their all-sweeping win at the World Cup in Lahore. 

The talented Karnataka batsman had been picked on strong domestic performances for an obscure tournament in Singapore. He looked confident enough when he walked in but Murali was in no mood to allow fledgling batsmen to dictate terms to him. Four balls was all it took and Rahul Dravid was back in the pavilion cutting a ball too close and straight into Kalu’s gloves. Failures followed in matches thereafter with strike rate complaints.  Career done and dusted, not quite?

Fifteen years later at the Oval in England, Dravid stood tall among the ruins carrying his bat, scoring his third century of the series and outshining his more illustrious teammates.

And he even went in style with his erudite Bradman oration and finally the quite announcement of hanging his boots without the fanfare and lust for a farewell test.

Thank you Rahul Dravid. You weren’t just the Wall, but a bastion of technique, integrity and pride.