Through The Eyes of an Idiot...: When I Met Rahul Sharad Dravid...

It was the year 2001, and I was 7, when my grandfather decided to take me to my first (and only) live game in the Chepauk. It was also a Monday and a school day.

Things are very different today, but back then, it was completely normal for a kid to bunk school and go for cricket matches. That is what I thought. The situation at home was so cool that my grandmother even promised to lie to my classmate, who I knew would call me after school, and tell him that I was down with fever. Things like that never happen today, and even back then, my house was an exception. People take school a little too seriously nowadays.

Anyway, back to the story.

I was excited. Very very excited. I remember that until the moment I entered the gates at Chepauk, I didn't know what game I going to. In all the excitement, I had forgotten to ask my grandfather.

The game that my grandfather had bought passes to was a day nighter, which meant we left from home after lunch, caught the bus to Chepauk, and reached there by 1 30 pm. I expected to see Sachin Tendulkar that day, like any other kid. Tendulkar was at his peak, and was the nation's most treasured asset. I figured, like the kid I was, that any cricket match, had to have the man playing in it.

I don't know if it was shock, or just gross disappointment when I realised my grandfather hadn't bought tickets to any international game. Those were far too expensive even then, and the tickets he had bought were for a Challengers Trophy List A game between India Seniors and India A. I knew enough cricket even then to know that Tendulkar wouldn't bother with these games.

These were pre-cellular phone days, which meant no handy cameras or selfies. So there was an adequate lack of documentation of special events. These were the times of the autograph books. They were special books that could be used to take autographs of people, with nice designs for every page, and all. But I was so unbelievably disappointed, I didn't even bother to get one of these books. Whose autograph was I going to take? The only person that mattered to me wasn't even playing.

And then I entered the stadium.

It was empty.

There were hardly a hundred spectators, and the security was slack. Nobody really cared for these games.

Seeing my disappointment, my grandfather told me to run around the stadium, and see if I could spot any cricketers slacking around. He even gave me his telephone diary and told me to use it to get autographs if I met anybody.

Everything that happened after that was like a dream.

I was 7, and nobody really paid me any mind. This was before 09/11 and security was slack to non existent. I remember first running through the stadium pointlessly till I was out of breath, and realised I was wasting time. I went behind the stands and into some rooms that were there, and actually saw Kapil Dev lying on a physio bench, talking to Zaheer Khan.

Kapil Dev.

I couldn't believe my eyes. This was 2001, and I was 7, and my memory is hazy, but I did get Kapil Dev's autograph, and then Zaheer Khan's and a bunch of other peoples' too. I remember Sourav Ganguly being the Indian captain then, and managed to spot him too, and asked for his autograph.

Everybody was so willing to oblige the 7 year old. I still feel that if we had gone for an International Game, the same wouldn't have been possible with the unmanageable crowd.

Around 6 30 or so, when I was completely tired, and had managed to fill my autograph book with everybodys autograph, right from John Wright to some random North Indian wicketkeeper whos name I didn't even know, and whose autograph I asked for only because he was with Wright, and I thought it would be impolite to ignore him; I went back to my grandfather, who was watching the List A game with as much reverence as he saw any other game.

I told him whom all I met, and when he didn't believe me, showed him the autographs. He was surprised, and didn't think I was capable of doing what I did that day. And I was proud.

But that wasn't enough for him. He showed me a small opening in the gates that led directly to the players pavilion. There were no dugouts back then, and the players usually sat in pavilions which were cordoned off from crazy supporters.

But they hadn't expected a mental 7 year old out on a mission.

There were only two players in the pavilion that day, along with some managers, whom I didn't even bother addressing.

On close inspection, they actually did look similar to me. I had only seen the two of them in live TV before, and hadn't really bothered much about them considering they were always going to be second to my idol, ST10.

VVS Laxman and Rahul Dravid. I noticed Dravid's blue eyes first, which were strikingly dissimilar to any other. Laxman didn't bother with me and just nudged Dravid to take care of the little pest. I expected them to call security. I was old enough to know what happens when you go to places you're not allowed into. But Rahul Dravid did not call security that day. He actually smiled at me.

Rahul Sharad Dravid, smiled at me, a 7 year old, when he could have just called security and gotten rid of me in the first place. I didn't have the guts to smile back. I just wanted his autograph. I was here only because my grandfather wanted me to go. So I blurted out, in my still unbroken voice, "Sir, can I have your autograph, please?"

He asked me what my name was, and told me that he was watching the game, so I'd have to wait for two minutes. He even asked me to sit down next to him on an empty chair, but I was too scared to, and preferred to stand. Who even does that anymore? Which player has the decency to ask a 7 year old kid to sit down because he has made him wait 2 minutes?

I got back home that day with Rahul Dravid, and VVS Laxman's autographs, along with a deep respect and admiration for Rahul Dravid. I started idolising the person he was, and over a period of time, even forgot that I once liked Sachin Tendulkar. As my passion for football overtook my liking for cricket as I grew older, the only reason I watched the game was to watch Rahul Dravid play.

I remember watching everything from his Kolkata innings to his struggle at the Oval, when he scored 12 runs out of 96 balls or something.

There was something about the man that was soothing to watch. His elegance, the way he handled the team and pressure, all that taught me how to live life. My grandfather is no more, but I am forever indebted to him for that day at the Chepauk. Neither is Rahul Dravid playing any form of cricket anymore, but his stints at the commentary box along with Harsha Bhogle are a joy to watch.

There is a reason he is called the Wall of Indian Cricket. He was the soothing balm we needed, and he was happy to be just that. I remember people criticising Dravid for his lacks of form, but the man tried, atleast. I don't remember Sachin volunteering to keep wickets or open the batting when the ball was at its meanest in England. Rahul Dravid actually did that for the team.

He was our wall, our Dark Knight, and walls don't retire. They become monuments.

Happy Birthday, you absolute legend. :)

P.S. Below are some of the autographs I had taken the other day. Since I hadn't written down their names below the autograph, I don't remember whose autograph is which. The rare names I had written down in felt pen (in my shoddy handwriting) can be seen below. Any help with respect to placing the autographs will be appreciated. There are more than 5 unrecognised autographs that I haven't bothered uploading. (Copyrights Reserved)