It takes a deep commitment to change and an even deeper commitment to grow - Ralph Ellison.
The Australian War Memorial in Canberra was the perfect stage for a discourse that was as much a celebration of The Don as of shared history, contrapletal cultures, and — most importantly — cricket's inclusive character.
Rahul Dravid, the first Indian to be invited to deliver the Bradman Oration, symphonised multiple aspects of human existence without losing sight of his core competency — cricket.
His >speech , though extensive in scope and detail, was not a pointless pastiche of words. Dravid's virtuosic effort brought to the mind immediately another address delivered in July at Lord's — Kumar Sangakkara's MCC Spirit of Cricket Cowdrey lecture.
When Sangakkara > spoke truth to power, it was rightly hailed as one of the most courageous speeches in the history of the game. Dravid's account of cricket's ebbs and flows, on the other hand, was a delightful marriage of romance and reality.
Certainly, the cricketing community would do worse than paying attention to the wise words of these stalwarts.
Striking similiarities
The common strands of thought in their orations probably stem from their personalities.
For starters, both Dravid and Sangakkara bat at No.3, are elegant stroke-merchants, former captains, and respected for their leadership skills.
They are adept at looking beyond the contours of the playing arena and putting things in perspective.
The duo's views on the futility of warfare suitably drive home the point.
“I feel I stand on very sacred ground tonight. When I was told that I would be speaking at the National War Memorial, I thought of how often and how meaninglessly, the words ‘war', ‘battle', ‘fight' are used to describe cricket matches,” said Dravid.
Astute in joining the dots of past and present, both paint a portrait of cricket's evolving role in larger matters of politics and economics in their respective nations.
Sangakkara recounted Sri Lanka's miseries in the early 90s, and how the World Cup victory provided a healing touch: “It was a bleak time where we, as a nation, looked for inspiration, a miracle that would lift the pallid gloom and show us what we, as a country, were capable of if united as one. That inspiration was to come in 1996.”
He also spoke about what went through the players' minds immediately after they were attacked by terrorists in Lahore.
“We all sit in the dressing room and talk. Within minutes there is laughter and the jokes have started to flow. We have, for the first time, been a target of violence. We had survived. We all realised what some of our fellow Sri Lankans experienced every day for nearly 30 years. There was a new respect and awe for their courage and selflessness.”
Wide-ranging talk
Dravid, who had the audience in splits with his self-deprecatory humour, was as comfortable talking about Bradman and Jawaharlal Nehru as he was about the IPL and other new-age challenges in the game.
The Indian maestro emphasised that the fans deserve respect and urged that they ought to not be taken for granted.
In a time when cricket is beset with problems of corruption, Dravid advocated “giving up a little bit of freedom”.
“Even if it means giving up a little bit of freedom of movement and privacy. If it means undergoing dope tests, let us never say no.”
He explained how cricket in India is a microcosm of the country's diversity.
“I went around our dressing room to work out how many languages could be spoken in there and the number I have arrived at is 15 — including Shona and Afrikaans. In a world growing more insular, that (accommodating differences) is a precious quality to acquire, because it helps you understand people better.”
Certainly, Sangakkara and Dravid are not lacking in finesse and social grace, but what is more significant is how they choose to approach the game they love so much — with old-school honesty and conviction.
