Watch the video of Dravid's complete speech embedded at the end.Canberra: Indian batting great Rahul Dravid delivered the annual Sir Donald Bradman Oration for 2011 at the Australian War Memorial in Canberra on Wednesday. Here is the full text of the entire speech.Thank you for inviting me to deliver the Bradman Oration; the respect and the regard that came with the invitationto speak tonight, is deeply appreciated. I realise a very distinguished list of gentlemen have preceded me in the ten years that the Bradman Oration hasbeen held.I know that this Oration is held every year to appreciate the life and career of Sir Don Bradman, a great Australianand a great cricketer. I understand that I am supposed to speak about cricket and issues in the game - and I will. Yet, but ï¬rst before all else, I must say that I ï¬nd myself humbled by the venue we ï¬nd ourselves in. Even though there is neither a pitch in sight, nor stumps or bat and balls, as a cricketer, I feel I stand on verysacred ground tonight.When I was told that I would be speaking at the National War Memorial, I thought of how often and howmeaninglessly, the words 'war', 'battle', 'ï¬ght' are used to describe cricket matches.Yes, we cricketers devote the better part of our adult lives to being prepared to perform for our countries, to persistand compete as intensely as we can - and more.This building, however, recognises the men and women who lived out the words - war, battle, ï¬ght - for real andthen gave it all up for their country, their lives left incomplete, futures extinguished.The people of both our countries are often told that cricket is the one thing that brings Indians and Australianstogether. That cricket is our single common denominator. India's ï¬rst Test series as a free country was played against Australia in November 1947, three months after ourindependence. Yet the histories of our countries are linked together far more deeply than we think and further back in time than 1947.We share something else other than cricket. Before they played the ï¬rst Test match against each other, Indians and Australians fought wars together, on the same side. In Gallipoli, where, along with the thousands of Australians, over 1300 Indians also lost their lives. In World War II, there were Indian and Australian soldiers in El Alamein, North Africa, in the Syria-Lebanoncampaign, in Burma, in the battle for Singapore.Before we were competitors, Indians and Australians were comrades. So it is only appropriate that we are herethis evening at the Australian War Memorial, where along with celebrating cricket and cricketers, we remember theunknown soldiers of both nations. It is however, incongruous, that I, an Indian, happen to be the ï¬rst cricketer from outside Australia, invited todeliver the the Bradman Oration.I don't say that only because Sir Don once scored a hundred before lunch at Lord's and my 100 at Lord's this yeartook almost an entire day. But more seriously, Sir Don played just ï¬ve Tests against India; that was in the ï¬rst India-Australia series in1947-48, which was to be his last season at home. He didn't even play in India, and remains the most venerated cricketer in India not to have played there. We know that he set foot in India though, in May 1953, when on his way to England to report on the Ashes for an English newspaper, his plane stopped in Calcutta airport. There were said to be close to a 1000 people waiting togreet him; as you know, he was a very private person and so got into an army jeep and rushed into a barricaded building, annoyed with the airline for having 'breached conï¬dentiality.' That was all Indians of the time saw of Bradman who remains a mythical ï¬gure. For one generation of fans in my country, those who grew up in the 1930s, when India was still under Britishrule, Bradman represented a cricketing excellence that belonged to somewhere outside England. To a countrytaking its ï¬rst steps in Test cricket, that meant something. His success against England at that time was thought of as our personal success. He was striking one for all of usruled by the common enemy. Or as your country has so poetically called them, the Poms. There are two stories that I thought I should bring to your notice. On June 28, 1930, the day Bradman scored 254at Lord's against England, was also the day Jawaharlal Nehru was arrested by the police. Nehru was, at the time,one of the most prominent leaders of the Indian independence movement and later, independent India's ï¬rst PrimeMinister. The coincidence of the two events, was noted by a young boy KN Prabhu, who was both nationalist, cricket fan and later became independent India's foremost cricket writer. In the 30s, as Nehru went in and out of jail, Bradman went after the England bowling and for K N Prabhu, became a kind of avenging angel.There's another story I've heard about the day in 1933, when the news reached India that Bradman's record for thehighest Test score of 334 had been broken by Wally Hammond. As much as we love our records, they say someIndian fans at the time were not exactly happy. Now, thereâs a tale that a few even wanted to wear black bands to mourn the fact that this precious record thatbelonged to Australia - and by extension, us - had gone back. To an Englishman. We will never know if this istrue, if black bands were ever worn, but as journalists sometimes tell me, why let facts get in the way of a goodstory.My own link with Bradman was much like that of most other Indians - through history books, some old video footage and his wise words. About leaving the game better than you found it. About playing it positively, as Bradman, then a selector, told Richie Benaud before the 1960-61 West Indies tour of Australia. Of sending a rightmessage out from cricket to its public. Of players being temporary trustees of a great game. While there may be very little similarity in our records or our strike rates or our ï¬elding - and I can say this only today in front of all of you - I am actually pleased that I share something very important with Sir Don.He was, primarily, like me, a No.3 batsman. It is a tough, tough job. We're the ones who make life easier for the kings of batting, the middle order that follows us. Bradman did thatwith a bit more success and style than I did. He dominated bowling attacks and put bums on seats, if I bat for anylength of time I am more likely to bore people to sleep. Still, it is nice to have batted for a long time in a position, whose benchmark is, in fact, the benchmark for batsmanship itself. Before he retired from public life in his 80s, I do know that Bradman watched Sunil Gavaskar's generation playseries in Australia. I remember the excitement that went through Indian cricket when we heard the news thatBradman had seen Sachin Tendulkar bat on TV and thought he batted like him. It was more than mere approval, it was as if The great don had ï¬nally, passed on his torch. Not to an Aussie or an Englishman or a West Indian. But one of our own. One of the things, Bradman said has stayed in my mind. That the ï¬nest of athletes had, along with skill, a few more essential qualities: to conduct their life with dignity, with integrity, with courage and modesty. All this he believed, were totally compatible with pride, ambition, determination and competitiveness. Maybe those words should be put up in cricket dressing rooms all over the world. As all of you know, Don Bradman passed away on February 25, 2001, two days before the India v Australia series was to begin in Mumbai.Whenever an important ï¬gure in cricket leaves us, cricket's global community pauses in the midst of contests and debates, to remember what he represented of us, what he stood for and Bradman was the pinnacle. The standard against which all Test batsmen must take guard. The series that followed two days after Bradman's death later went on to become what many believe was one of the greatest in cricket. It is a series, I'd like to believe, he would have enjoyed following.A ï¬erce contest between bat and ball went down to the ï¬nal session of the ï¬nal day of the ï¬nal Test. Between an Australian team who had risen to their most imposing powers and a young Indian team determined to rewrite some chapters of its own history. The 2001 series contained high-quality cricket from both sides and had a deep impact on the careers of those whoplayed a part in it. The Australians were near unbeatable in the ï¬rst half of the new decade, both home and away. As others ï¬oundered against them, India became the only team that competed with them on even terms.India kept answering questions put to them by the Australians and asking a few themselves. The quality demanded of those contests, sometimes acrimonious, sometimes uplifting, made us, the Indian team, grow and rise. As individuals, we were asked to play to the absolute outer limits of our capabilities and we often extended them. Now, whenever India and Australia meet, there is expectation and anticipation - and as we get into the next two months of the Border Gavaskar Trophy, players on both sides will want to deliver their best. When we toured in 2007-08, I thought it was going to be my last tour of Australia. The Australians thought it was going to be the last time they would be seeing Sachin Tendulkar on their shores. He received warm standing ovations from wonderful crowds all around the country. Well, like a few, creaking Terminators, we're back. Older, wiser and I hope improved. The Australian public will want to stand up to send Sachin off all over again this time. But I must warn you, givenhow heâs been playing these days, there are no guarantees about ï¬nal goodbyes.In all seriousness, though, the cricket world is going to stop and watch Australia and India. It is Australia's ï¬rstchance to defend their supremacy at home following defeat in the 2010 Ashes and a drawn series against NewZealand. It is India's opportunity to prove that the defeat to England in the summer was an aberration that we will bounce back from. If both teams look back to their last 2007-08 series in Australia, they will know that they should have done things a little differently in the Sydney Test. But I think both sides have moved on from there; we've played each other twice in India already and relations between the two teams are much better than they have been as far as I can remember.Thanks to the IPL, Indians and Australians have even shared dressing rooms. Shane Watson's involvement in Rajasthan, Mike Hussey's role with Chennai to mention a few, are greatly appreciated back home. And even Shane Warne likes India now. I really enjoyed played alongside him at Rajasthan last season and can conï¬dently report to you that he is not eating imported baked beans any more. In fact, looking at him, it seems, he is not eating anything.It is often said that cricketers are ambassadors for their country; when there's a match to be won, sometimes wethink that is an unreasonable demand. After all, what would career diplomats do if the result of a Test series depended on them, say, walking? But, as ties between India and Australia have strengthened and our contests have become more frequent, we realise that as Indian players, we stand for a vast, varied, often unfathomable andendlessly fascinating country.At the moment, to much of the outside world, Indian cricket represents only two things - money and power. Yes, that aspect of Indian cricket is a part of the whole, but it is not the complete picture. As a player, as a proud and privileged member of the Indian cricket team, I want to say that, this one-dimensional, often cliched image relentlessly repeated, is not what Indian cricket is really all about. I cannot take all of you into the towns and villages our players come from, and introduce you to their families, teachers, coaches, mentors and teammates who made them international cricketers. I cannot take all of you here to India to show you the belief, struggle, effort and sacriï¬ce from hundreds of people that runs through our game. As I stand here today, it is important for me to bring Indian cricket and its own remarkable story to you. I believeit is very necessary that cricketing nations try to ï¬nd out about each other, try to understand each other and the different role cricket plays in different countries, because ours is, eventually, a very small world. In India, cricket is a buzzing, humming, living entity going through a most remarkable time, like no other in our cricketing history. In this last decade, the Indian team represents more than ever before, the country we come from - of people from vastly different cultures, who speak different languages, follow different religions, belong to all classes of society.I went around our dressing room to work out how many languages could be spoken in there and the number Ihave arrived at is: 15 including Shona and Akrikaans. Most foreign captains, I think, would baulk at the idea. But, when I led India, I enjoyed it, I marvelled at the rangeof difference and the ability of people from so many different backgrounds to share a dressing room, to accept, accomodate and respect that difference. In a world growing more insular, that is a precious quality to acquire, because it stays for life and helps you understand people better, understand the signiï¬cance of the other. Let me tell you one of my favourite stories from my under-19 days, when the India under-19 team played a match against the New Zealand junior team.We had two bowlers in the team, one from the north Indian state of Uttar Pradesh - he spoke only Hindi, which is usually a link language for players from all over India, ahead even of English. It should have been alright, except the other bowler came from Kerala, in the deep south, and he spoke only thestate's regional language, Malayalam. Now even that should have been okay as they were both bowlers and couldbowl simultaneous spells.Yet in one game, they happened to come together at the crease. In the dressing room, we were in splits, wondering how they were going to manage the business of a partnership, calling for runs or sharing the strike. Neither man could understand a word of what the other was saying and they were batting together. This couldonly happen in Indian cricket. Except that these two guys came up with a 100-run partnership. Their common language was cricket and that worked out just ï¬ne.The everyday richness of Indian cricket lies right there, not in the news you hear about million-dollar deals and television rights. When I look back over the 25 years I've spent in cricket, I realise two things. First, ratheralarmingly, that I am the oldest man in the game, older to even Sachin by three months.More importantly, I realise that Indian cricket actually reï¬ects our country's own growth story during this time. Cricket is so much a part of our national fabric that as India - its economy, society and popular culture - transformed itself, so did our most-loved sport. As players we are appreciative beneï¬ciaries of the ï¬nancial strength of Indian cricket, but we are more than just mascots of that economic power. The caricature often made of Indian cricket and its cricketers in the rest of the world is that we are pampered superstars. Overpaid, underworked, treated like a cross between royalty and rock stars.Yes, the Indian team has an enormous, emotional following and we do need security when we get around thecountry as a group. It is also where we make it a point to always try and conduct ourself with composure and dignity. On tour, I must point out, we don't attack fans or do drugs or get into drunken theatrics. And at home,despite what some of you may have heard, we don't live in mansions with swimming pools.The news about the money may well overpower all else, but along with it, our cricket is full of stories the outsideworld does not see.Television rights generated around Indian cricket, are much talked about. Let me tell you what the television - around those much sought-after rights - has done to our game. A sport that was largely played and patronised by princes and businessmen in traditional urban centres, cities like Bombay, Bangalore, Chennai, Baroda, Hyderabad, Delhi - has begun to pull in cricketers from everywhere. As the earnings from indian cricket have grown, in the past 2 decades, mainly thru television, the BCCI has spreadrevenues to various pockets in the country and improved where we play. The ï¬eld is now spread wider than it everhas been,the ground covered by Indian cricket ,has shifted. 27 teams compete in our national championship the Ranji Trophy. Last season, Rajasthan, a state best known for it'spalaces, fortresses and tourism won the Ranji Trophy title for the ï¬rst time in it's history. The national one day championship also had a ï¬rst time winner,in the newly formed state of Jharkand where our captain MS Dhoni comes from. The growth and scale of cricket on our television was the engine of this population shift. Like Bradman was the boy from Bowral, a stream of Indian cricketers now come from what you could call India's outback. Zaheer Khan belongs to the Maharashtra heartland, from a town that didn't have even one proper turf wicket. He could have been an instrumentation engineer but was drawn to cricket through TV and modelled his bowling bypracticing in front of the mirror on his cupboard at home, and ï¬rst bowled with a proper cricket ball at the age of 17. One day out of nowhere, a boy from a village in Gujarat turned up as India's fastest bowler. After Munaf Patelmade his debut for India, the road from the nearest railway station to his village had to be improved because journalists and TV crews from the cities kept landing up there. We are delighted that Umesh Yadav didn't become a policeman like he was planning and turned to cricket instead. He is the ï¬rst cricketer from the Central Indian ï¬rst-class team of Vidarbha to play Test cricket. Virender Sehwag, it shouldn't surprise, you belongs to the wild west just outside Delhi. He had be enrolled in acollege which had a good cricket programme and travel 84kms every day by bus to get to practice and matches. Every player in this room wearing an India blazer has a story like this. Here, ladies and gentlemen, is the heart and soul of Indian cricket.Playing for India completely changes our lives. The game has given us a chance to pay back our debt to all those who gave of their time, energy, resources for us to be better cricketers: we can build new homes for our parents,get out siblings married off in style, give our families very comfortable lives. The Indian cricket team is in fact, India itself, in microcosm. A sport that was played ï¬rst by princes, then their subordinates, then the urban elite, is now a sport played by all of India. Cricket, as my two under-19 teammates proved, is India's most widely-spoken language. Even Indian cinema hasits regional favourites; a movie star in the south may not be popular in the north. But a cricketer? Loved everywhere. It is, also, a very tough environment to grow up in - criticism can be severe, responses to victory and defeat extreme, there are invasions of privacy and stones have been thrown at our homes after some defeats. It takes time getting used to, extreme reactions can ï¬ll us with anger. But every cricketer realises at some stage of his career, that the Indian cricket fan is best understood by remembering the sentiment of the majority, not the actions of a minority.One of the things that has always lifted me as a player was looking out of the team bus when we travelled somewhere in India. When people see the Indian bus going by, see some of us sitting with our curtains drawnback, it always amazes me how much they light up. There is an instantaneous smile, directed not just at the player they see - but at the game that we play that, forwhatever reason, means something to people's lives. Win or lose, the man on the street will smile and give you a wave. After India won the World Cup this year, our players were not congratulated as much as they were thanked bypeople they ran into. "You have given us everything," they were told, "all of us have won." Cricket in India now stands not just for sport, but possibility, hope, opportunities.On our way to the Indian team, we know of so many of our teammates some of whom may have been equally or more talented than those sitting here, who missed out. When I started out, for a young Indian, cricket was the ultimate gamble - all or nothing, no safety nets. No second chances for those without an education or a college degree or second careers. Indian cricketâs wealth now means a wider pool of well paid cricketers even at ï¬rst-class level. For those of us who make it to the Indian team, cricket is not merely our livelihood, it is a gift we have been given. Without the game, we would just be average people leading average lives. As Indian cricketers, our sport has given us the chance do something worthwhile with our lives. How many people could say that? This is the time Indian cricket should be ï¬owering; we are the world champions in the short game, and over the space of the next 12 months should be involved in a tight contest with Australia, South Africa and England to determine which one of us are the world's strongest Test team.Yet I believe this is also a time for introspection within our game, not only in india,but all over the world. we havebeen given some alerts and responding to them quickly is the smart thing to do. I was surprised a few months ago to see the lack of crowds in an ODI series featuring India. By that I don't meanthe lack of full houses, I think it was the sight of empty stands I found somewhat alarming. India played its ï¬rst one-day international at home in November 1981 when I was nine. Between then and now India have played 227 ODIs at home; the October ï¬ve-match series against England, was the ï¬rst time that the grounds have not been full for an ODI featuring the Indian team. In the summer of 1998, I played in a one-dayer against Kenya in Kolkata and the Eden Gardens was full. Our nextgame was held in the 48-degree heat of Gwalior and the stands were heaving.The October series against England was the ï¬rst one at home after India's World Cup win. It was called the'revenge' series meant to wipe away the memory of a forgettable tour of England. India kept winning every game, and yet the stands did not ï¬ll up. Five days after a 5-0 victory, 95,000 turned up to watch the India's ï¬rst FormulaOne race. A few weeks later, I played in a Test match against the West Indies in Calcutta, in front of what was the lowestturn out in Eden Gardensâ history. Yes we still wanted to win and our intensity did not dip. But at the end of the day, we are performers, entertainers and we love an audience. The audience ampliï¬es everything you are doing,the bigger the crowd the bigger the occasion, its magnitude, its emotion. When I think about the Eden Gardens crowds this year, I wonder what the famous Calcutta Test of 2001 would have felt like with 50,000 people less watching us. Australia and South Africa ,played an exiting and thrilling test series recently and two great test matches producedsome fantastic performances from players of both teams, but was sadly played in front of sparse crowds.It is not the numbers Test players need, it is the atmosphere of a Test that every player wants to revel in and drawenergy from; my ï¬rst reaction to the lack of crowds for cricket was that there had been a lot of cricket and soperhaps, a certain amount of spectator-fatigue. That is too simplistic a view; it's the easy thing to say but might notbe the only thing. The India v England ODI series had no context, because the two countries had played each other in four Tests and ï¬ve ODIs just a few weeks before. When India and the West Indies played ODIs a month afer that, the groundswere full but this time matches were played in smaller venues that didnât host too much international cricket. Maybe our clues are all there and we must remain vigilant.Unlike Australia or England, Indian cricket has never had to compete with other sports for a share of revenues, mindspace or crowd attendance at international matches. The lack of crowds may not directly impact on revenues or how important the sport is to Indians, but we do needto accept that there has deï¬nitely been a change in temperature over, I think, the last two years. Whatever the reasons are - maybe it is too much cricket or too little by way of comfort for spectators. The fan hassent us a message and we must listen. This is not mere sentimentality. Empty stands do not make for good television. Bad television can lead to a fall in ratings, the fall in ratings will be felt by media planners and advertisers' looking elsewhere. If that happens, it is hard to see television rights around cricket being as sought after as they have always been inthe last 15 years. And where does that leave everyone? I'm not trying to be an economist or doomsday prophet - this is just how I see it. Let us not be so satisï¬ed with the present, with deals and ï¬nances in hand that we get blindsided. Everything thathas given cricket its power and inï¬uence in the world of sports has started from that fan in the stadium. They deserves our respect and let us not take them for granted. Disrespecting fans is disrespecting the game. The fans have stood by our game through everything. When we play, we need to think of them. As players, the balance between competitiveness and fairness can be tough but it must be found. If we stand up for the game's basic decencies, it will be far easier to tackle its bigger dangers - whether it is ï¬nding short cuts to easy money or being lured by the scourge of spot-ï¬xing and contemplating any involvement with the betting industry.Cricket's ï¬nancial success means it will face threats from outside the game and keep facing them. The last twodecades have proved this over and over again. The internet and modern technology may just end up being a step ahead of every anti-corruption regulation in place in the game. As players, the one way we can stay ahead for the game, is if we are willing to be monitored and regulated closely. 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. If it means undergoing lie-detector tests, let us understand the technology, what purpose it serves and accept it. Now lie-dectectors are by no means perfect but they could acutally help the innocent clear their names. Similarly, we should not object to having our ï¬nances scrutinised if that is what is required. When the ï¬rst anti-corruption measures were put into place, we did moan a little bit about being accredited and depositing our cell phones with the manager. But now, we must treat it like we do airport security because we know it is for our own good and our own security. Players should be ready to give up a little personal space and personal comfort for this game which has given usso much. If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear. Other sports have borrowed from cricket's anti-corruption measures to set up their own ethical governance programmes and we must take pride in belonging to a sport that is professional and progressive. One of the biggest challenges that the game must respond today, I believe, is charting out a clear road map for the three formats. We now realise that the sport's three formats cannot be played in equal numbers - that will only throw scheduling and the true development of players completely off gear. There is a place for all three formats, though, we are the only sport I can think of which has three versions. Cricketmust treasure this originality. These three versions require different skills, skills that have evolved, grown, changed over the last four decades, one impacting on the other. Test cricket is the gold standard, it is the form the players want to play. The 50-over game is the one that had kept cricket's revenues alive for more than three decades now. Twenty20 has come upon us and it is the format people, the fans want to see. Cricket must ï¬nd a middle path, it must scale down this mad merry-go-round that teams and players ï¬nd themselves in: heading off for two-Test tours and seven-match ODI series with a few Twenty20s thrown in.