Best supporting act

At about four in the afternoon, Tuesday the 13th, Rahul Dravid walked out to bat with the burden he traditionally carries a little heavier than usual. He had averaged 86 in his last ten innings at No.3, but had just been demoted to No.6; the man who had anchored India through so many storms was being pilloried by the press, as he found he had few foul-weather friends. More than just the Test match was on the line.

As always, he dug in. He made seven runs off 27 deliveries till close of play, but he knew that he'd have to play the innings of his life the next day to rescue India, and he was aware that, as ever, it would be second best. He was naturally circumspect to begin with - only 9 runs off his first 50 deliveries faced - but opened out in that crucial phase in the first session when the Indians established their dominance. He made 33 runs between deliveries 50 to 100 faced, which included three consecutive fours off Shane Warne; he would go on to score 41 off the 51 balls he faced from Warne. The dominance established, he then focussed on milking the bowling; his next four sets of 50 balls each brought him 26, 26, 26 and 28 respectively.

If Laxman was the brilliant stylist, Dravid was the orthodox technician, solid and correct, playing everything by that oh-so-boring text-book. Of the 335 runs scored that Wednesday, Laxman made 166 while Dravid hit up 148 - not that far apart. But think of the partnership and only Laxman's sparkling strokeplay comes to mind. Dravid remains the invisible man, labouring under circumstances that most men but him would pass off as impossible, noticed only when the application of his grit gets too 'boring' for people who think of cricket as just so much fast-food. And so, despite an average of over 52, he will never be the man they come to watch, and will get booed by crowds tired of his grimness, willing him to get out so they can have a look at Sachin.

It may break his heart, but it will not break the man.