DK boy, most people who follow cricket on planet earth have little or no memory of your worth. They think of you as a juggler more than a wicketkeeper. Few if any even know that you can bat. I myself had forgotten you could bat. I vaguely recall you once opened the batting, where was it, I cannot tell now; and you acquitted yourself rather well. Then you had to quit. Sometime else you even won a T20 game, yeah, it was India's first T20 in South Africa. Moral of the story DK boy, people attach a huge amount of significance to little games. If you have it made in limited overs cricket, you’re made.
Here you were, with your darling captain standing behind you, having to inhale your fumes throughout that darn good innings. But darn you boy, you threw it away.
DK boy, you’ve had two nifty back-to-back innings, but still both were almost there knocks, neither sealed the deal. This one could have been special. Instead it was the best knock either side, but in a losing cause, who remembers those?
Try and remember this: You don’t always have to keep, if it isn’t your natural calling to hell with it. Let MSD, let Parthiv or whoever likes wearing big gloves do it. If you were good enough to open overseas, and to instil belief in a coach who had little if any, there’s a chance you got something going for you.
Don’t self destruct just when you’re ready to shift in for a win DK boy. Your success could mean very interesting times for Indian cricket. Only with you, you’ll have to try much harder. You are no fortunate son.
Fortunate Son (lyrics by John Fogerty)
Some folks are born made to wave the flag,Ooh, theyre red, white and blue.And when the band plays hail to the chief,Ooh, they point the cannon at you, lord,It aint me, it aint me, I aint no senators son, son.It aint me, it aint me; I aint no fortunate one, no,Yeah!Some folks are born silver spoon in hand,Lord, dont they help themselves, oh.But when the taxman comes to the door,Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale, yes,It aint me, it aint me, I aint no millionaires son, no.It aint me, it aint me; I aint no fortunate one, no.Some folks inherit star spangled eyes,Ooh, they send you down to war, lord,And when you ask them, how much should we give? Ooh, they only answer more! more! more! yoh,It aint me, it aint me, I aint no military son, son.It aint me, it aint me; I aint no fortunate one, one.It aint me, it aint me, I aint no fortunate one, no no no,It aint me, it aint me, I aint no fortunate son, no no no,