The everyman cricket star – what sets Rahul Dravid apart?

Indian cricket, despite its giant strides towards modernity, hasn’t yet fully shaken off its Raj-era habits. Respect, and also rewards, still depend on your rank. But not on coach Rahul Dravid’s watch. In the dugout, he is always seen in the coaching corner and, at nets, he is almost apologetic in his instructions to his non-playing team.

And now, typically of the man, he has silently and subtly set an example not by words but through action. Dravid has laid the first brick of a utopian dressing room of equals that has a sliver of economic heterogeneity and where the distribution of wealth isn’t ridiculously uneven. First, as the coach of the World Cup-winning India under-19 team and now, after the T20 World Cup title, Dravid has insisted on pay parity with his assistants. Of the Rs 125 crore BCCI windfall to the team, the head coach was to get Rs 5 crore but Dravid reportedly wanted exactly what other coaches were getting — Rs 2.5 crore.

Regardless of his riches, a father of two sons yet to go to college, refusing a cheque with seven zeros because of his beliefs is unheard of in these materialistic times. And in these months of appraisals, with money on most minds, it’s a jaw-dropping renouncement. But that’s Dravid — the painfully modest, spotlight-phobic compassionate cricketing great.

Back in 2012, on his retirement, Dravid’s wife Vijeta wrote a piece that gave a glimpse of the man who had fiercely protected his personal life. Though there were no surprises, it had interesting details. As the world had perceived, the legend who wore his greatness lightly was a man of few needs and necessities. His pursuit was runs, the race to otherworldly possessions was for lesser mortals and less-successful cricketers.

Vijeta wrote how her husband “doesn’t care for gadgets, and barely registers brands — of watches, cologne or cars”. But if his bat weighed a gram less, he would notice in an instant. “I know if I packed only two sets of informal clothes, he would rotate them through an entire tour… He has used one type of moisturising cream for 20 years,” she would write.

His mother is an architect and his father worked for the company that produced Kissan jam. Dravid’s life was dictated by classic middle-class morals and values. He rose to lofty heights but stayed grounded. He continued to stay in the locality — Indiranagar in Bengaluru — where he grew up, despite gaining celebrity status.

Unlike other stars, there are no page 3 stories of him buying mansions or having a garage full of superbikes. The other day, he drove to the polling booth in Bengaluru in a regular-sized car, wearing the most common colour combination preferred by unadventurous middle-aged Indian men — a navy blue T-shirt and lighter shade three-fourth pants.

Dravid has tried his best to debunk the “pampered superstars” image that Indian cricketers carry worldwide. It was a futile battle but India’s grittiest No. 3, like always, made an earnest attempt. In his stunning Bradman Oration speech in 2011, he argued the case for Indian cricket: “The caricature often made of Indian cricket is that of… overpaid, underworked [players], treated like a cross between royalty and rock stars… It is why we make it a point to always try and conduct ourselves with composure and dignity… We don’t attack fans or do drugs or get into drunken theatrics. And at home, despite what some of you may have heard, we don’t live in mansions with swimming pools.” It would have sounded true had Dravid spoken just for himself.

The one-of-a-kind cricketer was an outlier in most teams he was associated with. The man who valued the history of the game once opened the innings with Virender Sehwag, a rustic boy from Delhi NCR’s wild west, Najafgarh. They were in to break the record set by Vinoo Mankad and Pankaj Roy but Sehwag would get out. Later, he would say that he wasn’t aware of the mark or the two past greats.

As the captain of his diverse flock, Dravid tried to understand everyone and was sensitive to the team’s needs. Till coach Greg Chappell spread mistrust in the dressing room, he had a close bond with players from Indian cricket’s outposts. He mentored them, gave them batting tips and also took them to a musical in London. Even when the Sourav Ganguly-Chappell battle was dividing the team, he tried being the bridge. When his toddler sons would travel with the team, he would book a room that was not on the same floor as his teammates. He didn’t want them to be disturbed by the wails of his children.

Dravid might have his flaws as a captain or coach but he has still managed a decent leadership legacy. He was accommodative and a peace-maker. Unlike those with not even half his body of work, he wasn’t pompous. Actually, he regularly takes pains to call himself a boring batsman who puts people to sleep but miserably fails.

His conversations are rarely about him, it’s about others around him. Dravid isn’t the kind who will cut a deal for himself and sell others down the river.

Dravid is a true believer in the sporting brotherhood. He has never been a rebel, rabble-rouser or a moaning complainer. He is someone who cares about others. Dravid also tried to be the change he wished to see in Indian cricket. Not everyone has the heart to put Rs 2,50,00,000 where the mouth is.

sandeep.dwivedi@expressindia.com