The greatest players are the ones who make the difficult seem so easy that it seems they got some serious cheat codes up their sleeves in life. When the impossible is finally made possible, legends as such possess an uncanny knack of being found at the centre stage. And yet as the much-deserved spotlight inches towards them, they choose to gently recede away from the euphoria and towards their preferred state of equanimity, leaving the glorification for the rest of the world. Some call it chance, others heroism. But for the artist, it is just another day’s work.
Ever since Martin Guptill managed
to disturb the stumps in the 2019 WC semi-finals with a direct hit that found him
a few feet short of the crease – and entire India short of the shores of hope –
followers of the game could see this day coming. ‘When’ was the only pertinent question
and it has been put to rest today. Given the pace of happenings in 2020, this
too shall pass. And that is perhaps the most appropriate phrase to summarise the
extravagant legacy that is MS Dhoni’s contributions to the game of cricket, the
awe-inspiring list of his achievements and his approach towards life at large.
2003 world cup was the time that
11-year-old me developed a serious fascination for the game and ever since I
saw the men in blue lose to (arguably) the best squad ever assembled in the
game of cricket, seeing my team lift that trophy was a dream I started sharing
with a billion fellow countrymen. Our generation knew the folklore of 1983 and
the sheer epicness of the occasion but would find it too far into the
past to truly relate with. When a hitherto surgical Misbah ‘iceberg’ Ul Haq
from Pakistan – enchanted momentarily by the devil perhaps – popped a deceptive
slower one up in the air (when he could literally have done anything with that
delivery) and into the hands of an erratic Sreesanth at short fine leg, it
meant India were the winners of the debut edition of T20 World Cup in 2007.
The sight of the long locks of Dhoni (recently dyed black from blond) flying in
the winds of Johannesburg was not only a soothing balm over the wounds of the painful
knock-out suffered at the hands of Bangladesh earlier that year at the 50 over
world cup, but also one of the most joyful and vivid memories of childhood.
But the true longing was far from
fulfilled. And it would come to our shores in 2011 in the next edition of the
50 over world cup. The long locks had vanished with the ravages of time and the
toils of captaincy, transforming the artist into a stoic – unmoved by the fleeting
vagaries of countless victories and defeats. The journey to the finals wasn’t as
romantic as in 2003 but the finale at Wankhade amidst a sensitively passionate home crowd, was the
biggest sporting event for 21st century India. It was a matter of collective
pride for a billion, the biggest bet with everyone ‘all in’, the mauka,
if ever there was one.
It is impossible to get even a
hint of what Captain Cool would have thought or felt. When the Gods
of chance – hitherto firmly by his side, evidently – had played one against
him at the moment of his life as he lost the chance to bat first in a pressure game
that would make even the depths of Mariana Trench crumble. Or when Jayawardene demolished
his bowlers at the death overs, posting the highest ever score in a WC final.
Or when he lost both his openers (legends in their own right) within the first
5 overs of the chase. Or when he walked into bat ahead of Yuvi (who had had a
dream tournament with the bat and the bowl) with an asking rate of almost a run
a ball and less than half the total runs required on the board.
These are equations and calculations
that would make mere mortals shudder, let alone be able to compute or act. But
in yet another mesmerising display of grit and his characteristic brand of rugged,
street smart, unorthodox but highly effective batsmanship, the last Jedi
managed to hail the Force yet again to accomplish the impossible. Ravi
Shastri’s now immortal words declared it on air as MS Dhoni smacked the bowler straight
back for a mammoth six, steady eyes following the projectile off his bat into
the maddening crowd of thousands – who were collectively chanting Vande Mataram
minutes ago – unwavering, unmoved as if failing to register the immensity of
the occasion. It took a dancing and jumping Yuvraj Singh for him to respond in
a manner fit for an emotional being, as he pulled one stump off the ground as a
personal memento of victory – the most priceless one in his enormous kitty. The
fact that Sunil Gavaskar wants the image of that six to be the last thing he
watches before he dies is by no means an exaggeration. The cricket fanatic in
me had finally seen it all, as had everyone who had ever watched the game or tried
to mimic their idol’s stance in a gully or a ground.
Cricket was ushered into the collective conscience by Kapil Dev’s immortal heroics at Lord’s in 1983. It was carried through its most turbulent times under the quiet class of Azharuddin and completely redefined by the explosive swag of Dada. Greats of the game like Sachin, Dravid and Kumble also gave it their blood, sweat and tears. But it took the unassuming calm and unwavering stoicism of MS Dhoni to put together a team of 11 men who could make history repeat itself after 28 years. There are countless other times where his genius presence of mind, wicked (or weird – your call) strategic manoeuvres and lightning fast glove work both in front and behind the wicket have produced unforgettable moments of magic. But 2007 and 2011 are two memories most of us will carry throughout our lives – in 1080p.
The incredible journey from a
ticket examiner in Indian railways who just loved hitting balls to becoming
the most successful captain in modern cricket has been documented and recounted
millions of times. His burgeoning legacy was so unequivocally impressive that it
even ended up as a major motion picture on the celluloid at a time when he was
still playing, believing he still had a few tricks up the sleeves for us. But sadly,
it wasn’t meant to be. ‘You can’t always get what you want’ and
even the mighty MS Dhoni couldn’t escape that heavy burden of always.
Beneath that helmet and under that
jersey is a man all of us recognize but perhaps no one really knows. He is an
iconoclast, an absolute enigma, a mystery we only believe we understand because
the story always seemed too exciting to miss. But perhaps it was just an artist
going about his work in the way he understood best, equally oblivious to both
admiration and criticism. And that, unsurprisingly, was enough. He is less a
man of words than deeds but the legend of Dhoni tells us what we have already been
told several times before –
If you can keep your head when all about you are losing
theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you but
make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can meet with triumph and disaster and treat
those two impostors just the same,
If you can make one heap of all your winnings and risk
it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings, and
never breathe a word about your loss,
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue or
walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, if
all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute with sixty
seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
O Captain, My Captain. Thanks for the memories.
