The quotes which inspire any one

Suddeep Vs Ganesh

Born	September 2, 1973 (age 38) Shivamogga, Karnataka, India
Other names	Kiccha, Kalaa Abhimanyu, Abhinaya Chakravarthi, Kiccha Sudeepa
Occupation	Actor, Producer, Director
Spouse	Priya Sudeep ಸುದೀಪ್

Personal information
Full name	Rahul Sharad Dravid
Born	11 January 1973 (age 39) Indore, Madhya Pradesh, India
Nickname	The Wall, Jammy, Mr. Dependable
Height	5 ft 11 in (1.80 m)
Batting style	Right-handed
Bowling style	Right arm off spin
Role	Batsman, Wicketkeeper
International information
National side	India
Test debut (cap 207)	20 June 1996 v England
Last Test	24 January 2012 v Australia
ODI debut (cap 339)	3 April 1996 v Sri Lanka
Last ODI	16 September 2011 v England
ODI shirt no.	19
Only T20I	31 August 2011 v England
Domestic team information
Years	Team
1990–present	Karnataka
2003	Scotland
2000	Kent
2008–2010	Royal Challengers Bangalore
2011–present	Rajasthan Royals
Career statistics
Competition	Test	ODI	FC	LA
Matches	164	344	298	449
Runs scored	13,288	10,889	23,794	15,271
Batting average	52.31	39.16	55.33	42.30
100s/50s	36/63	12/83	68/117	21/112
Top score	270	153	270	153
Balls bowled	120	186	617	477
Wickets	1	4	5	4
Bowling average	39.00	42.50	54.60	105.25
5 wickets in innings	0	0	0	0
10 wickets in match	0	0	0	0
Best bowling	1/18	2/43	2/16	2/43
Catches/stumpings	210/0	196/14	353/1	233/17

Rahul Dravid's retirement announcement is a study in self-effacing dignity 

 

1. The first words of Rahul Dravid during the press conference at the Chinnaswamy Stadium marked the end of his glorious career. The brief, to-the-point announcement was also laced with the characteristic straight bat that defines the man. Arunabha Sengupta, who has followed and written about the master for a long, long time, recounts his final foray. 

   The last vestiges of hope disappear
   
   As he appeared, dapper and dignified as ever, many clutched on to the faintly-flickering wish that it was not what it was touted to be.
   
   Indian cricket after all is one of the loudest and most confusing arenas of the world. A variety of voices, from the immensely-respected to the eminently-negligible, each louder than the next, join together into a discordant crescendo, drowning the sweet sound of the willow striking the leather, of the ball thudding into the gloves of the keeper, and the last murmurs of reason, logic and decency.
   
   In such a world, was it not greatly probable that Rahul Dravid was there to speak about something else? With Greg Chappell, the Indian Premier League (IPL), eight consecutive overseas defeats, form and fielding of the seniors, Sachin Tendulkar’s 100^th international century, acerbic aspersions about his own guts, and so on ... surely there were plenty of things that could be discussed without broaching on the unthinkable.
   
   However, one look at the man and it was certain that all the fears would come true. Not that his expression struck one as forlorn, nor did his manner betray emotions. He was as poker faced as he used to be while standing in the slips. It was just that the face in question belonged to Rahul Dravid. The quintessential cricketer whose focus on the purest ideal of the game never flinched because of the chaotic din that surrounded him.
   
   A sum total of 13,288 runs in Test cricket, 36 centuries and 210 catches would not propel him to call a press conference to air his views on the game and the plethora of peripherals that currently surround it.
   
   He would always allow his bat to do all the talking, unless the very subject of discourse by definition made it impossible. 
   
   And when he started to speak, the last vestiges of hope disappeared. There was no foreword, preface or prologue – none of the never-ending previews the world of cricket has become so used to. He started off by declaring that he was retiring from all forms of the game.
   
   For a generation of followers who have lived and breathed cricket, it was like suddenly losing a lung.
   
   Straight bat overcomes doubtful moments
   
   There had been plenty of apprehensions that come naturally to those who get tied into knots trying to follow the peculiar, serpentine ways of Indian cricket.
   
   Was it a personal decision? Or was it ignominy thrust upon him by some cricket illiterate honchos of the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI)?
   
   After all, Dravid had always been India’s ‘go-to man’ in times of crisis. The one-stop solution for all problems.
   
   Was India 0 for 1 with pace bowlers breathing fire on a green wicket? Ask Dravid to walk in, put his head down and take the country out of danger.
   
   Was the balance of the team suffering because of wicketkeepers who could not bat? Make Dravid put on the gloves, crouch behind the stumps, stretch himself to the limits to restore equilibrium.
   
   Was the regular opener injured? Did a slot need to be opened up for another middle-order batsman? Send Dravid to open the innings.
   
   No quality player to take on the English conditions in a Twenty20 match? Persuade 38-year old Dravid to make his international T20 debut.
   
   So now, was it a problem of appeasing an ignorant, irrational, fanatic set of cricket followers who wanted change at any cost? So, was it a case of send for Dravid for the last possible time?
   
   However, as he so often did by walking out to the middle, the maestro put all seeds of doubts to rest. There were no telltale edges to the statements, no trick shots aimed between the lines. Dravid was his usual self – cutting off flourishes, going about his business with the straightest possible bat.
   
   He had decided to call it a day because he felt it was time – having been a part of a glorious era of Indian cricket history, he would like to move on, for younger men to script their own tales of triumph.
   
   Self effacing to the end
   
   There were no allusions to any of the phenomenal achievements of his career. None of the 36 centuries – many of them in path-breaking victories – were alluded to. There was no mention of his sterling contribution during an the glorious era of Indian cricket he confessed to playing in, when for the first time wins became more frequent and expected than defeats, and a huge proportion of them were engineered by his own broad blade.
   
   He was just happy that it had been such a long and fulfilling career. He thanked one and all for making it memorable. He had learned from his colleagues many of whom were legends in their own rights, he had been inspired by his captains, he had been helped along by his team, he had been kept fighting fit into his late 30s by the physios and trainers.
   
   He did not really hint that he was one of the biggest and noblest legends the game has ever been blessed with. Or that he himself had inspired a generation and more to take to cricket in the way it was meant to be, that he had carried the team along on uncountable occasions, that as far as fitness was concerned, for an Indian cricketer he had the unusual record for maximum number of catches, being the first to break the 200 barrier. In fact, with his traditional modesty he remarked that keeping him fit must have been a tough job.
   
   One could not help but sense that here was the eternal team man, whose self effacement is curiously matched only by his staggering accomplishments. Here was someone who could be out for 270 trying a reverse sweep to accelerate the score.
   
   In a country which is sustained by the sound byte, where one-season wonders relive their 15 minutes of glory over and over again across the numerous media channels, often revisiting the same innings ad infinitum, he did not have one word to say about his phenomenal performance for the last one and a half decades. Unlike many ex-cricketers, there was no casually-affected impression that he had conquered all the summits that mattered. All he mentioned about his own showing was that he had tried to play cricket with dignity, upholding the spirit of the game – sometimes failing, but always trying, and hopefully succeeding once in a while.