
Three years ago, during a season of hectic travel and too much cricket, I was shuttling from Cochin to Visakhapatnam for another daunting ODI against Pakistan. The Indian team had some new, little-known faces that series, and the only thing I knew about Mahendra Singh Dhoni was that his hair was about the same uncouth length as mine at a time when flowing manes had not become totally passeacute;.
As I emerged from the airport, having arrived on the same aircraft as the team, the enthusiastic crowd pointed at me and started chanting, 8220;Dhoni, Dhoni.8221; Later that evening, when I stepped on to the balcony of the team hotel, a few hundred mistaken star-gazers again gave me a rousing applause from the beach across the Taj. Unable to think of anything better to do, I waved back, sending them into raptures.
Nobody recognised Dhoni 8212; he was an object of affection not for what he8217;d done but for the blue colour that had been bestowed on him.
The following day, Dhoni struck such a disdainful 148 8212; hitting the ball on to the roof of the makeshift stands in the stadium clinically, frequently 8212; that his mark was instantly imprinted on all those millions who follow cricket in this run-crazy country.
Never again did I get cheered or applauded. Everyone recognised Dhoni after that knock, and now they can pick him out from a crowd of similarly styled people because the imprint has darkened further with every passing match.
The story of Indian cricket over the last 12 months has been the story of M.S. Dhoni. The year 2008 was special for Gautam Gambhir and Virender Sehwag, emotional for Sourav Ganguly and Anil Kumble, forgettable for Rahul Dravid, exceptional for Zaheer Khan and Ishant Sharma, and foolhardy for Harbhajan Singh. India vanquished Australia, crumbled against Ajantha Mendis before fighting back, pulverised England, drew with South Africa, and hosted the first IPL. But each of these tales 8212; from the Rs 6-crore price-tag to the five-over captaincy offer to Ganguly in his final Test 8212; had Dhoni sidebars attached to them.
Looking closely, you would realise that they weren8217;t mere asides.
A study of Dhoni, the skipper, must start with a quick glance at the background of the two other Indian captains who seemed to have a similar, inspirational hold over the team.
Mansur Ali Khan Pataudi, trained without mercy by his father, is considered the first of India8217;s path-breaking skippers. Forget the results, though there were some very creditable ones, what made Pataudi different was the confidence he gave his teammates. Crafty on the field, with no insecurities of his own, he dealt with his players like a well-meaning monarch off it.
Then, 30 years later, with Indian cricket mired in match-fixing scandals and parochial selection policies, with their tag of poor travellers more well-entrenched, came Sourav Ganguly. Born into a rich business family, Ganguly8217;s dependence on cricket was not monetary. A very good batsman who couldn8217;t make the transition to greatness, his contribution to Indian cricket must be measured by the barriers he broke as a leader.
Liberated because of their backgrounds, Pataudi and Ganguly were able to bring to the team a sense of freedom that no one else could.
Despite growing over the last decade into a country that allows the freedom of aspiration, India wouldn8217;t have thought that the next captain with a shot at path-breaking greatness would come not even from the burgeoning urban middle-class but a poorer small town.
What is it that gives Dhoni the belief to back his players, battle selectors, give it back to the opposition, take hard decisions about seniors, and refer to India as 8220;my team8221; with such frequency that he sometimes sounds arrogant?
When the story came out about his disagreement with the selectors over their decision to drop R.P. Singh, Dhoni called the leak 8220;disgusting8221;, and even sarcastically suggested that there should be live TV in the meeting room.
He placed a rare, ultra-defensive 8-1 field in Nagpur against Australia, and then told the visiting journalists in almost as many words how there were double standards about what was acceptable on the field of play 8220;When they do it, it is called strategy8221;.
While his colleagues, some of them far more illustrious cricketers, are still trapped in their own insecurities, fearing they8217;ll be dropped for the next match, what that might mean for their endorsement contracts, how they should deal with the media and the officials to ensure a longer run, to Dhoni these are trifles he couldn8217;t be bothered with. It8217;s as if he8217;s thinking the money and the fame he8217;s got is already enough, beyond his wildest dreams, so why worry about what will happen if he gets no more? Freedom of expression is a natural corollary of such a mindset.
It may be early days still for Dhoni to be placed alongside Pataudi and Ganguly. Longevity, results and, most importantly, being a catalyst of long-term attitudinal change, are the yardsticks great skippers are measured against.
But Dhoni has made the perfect start, even better than the two he now seems destined to emulate.
kunal.pradhanexpressindia.com