It should surprise nobody if Mahendra Singh Dhoni reveals at some point that he had no idea that he had led India 199 times in One-Day International cricket when he chose to step down from his perch. It would come as a shock if Dhoni realised that he announced his retirement on the cusp of the birthday of the man widely regarded as India¡¯s greatest captain, Mansur Ali Khan Pataudi.
TOI
The two rarely figure in the same sentence, one an Oxford educated prince born with a set of silver spoons in mouth, the other a confirmed plebeian whose first big career break was becoming a ticket-checker in the Indian Railways. Yet, these two worlds meet quite seamlessly in one sphere, in that they were singular men and natural-bone leaders.
That Dhoni, with his clunky yet utterly effective wicketkeeping skills, and ultraagricultural batting technique, even played for India is a reaffirmation that this is a country where people rise to the top despite their support systems rather than because of them. From a cricketing backwater, with no influence or godfathers, this unpretentious cricketer rose to the very top of the game.
Reuters
That Pataudi, the Junior Nawab, would play for India was never really in doubt. Apart from having the pedigree of a thoroughbred, access, time and backing to pursue just what he wanted when he wanted, here was a physical specimen ahead of his time by decades in Indian cricket. Lithe, nimble, obviously outrageously talented with the bat and blessed with the mind of a general, Tiger was always going to be a superstar.
If Dhoni had to overcome the external, fighting the stereotype at every step, making decisions that could cost him everything, yet backing himself to not blink first, Tiger had to subdue internal doubts, stemming from the loss of an eye, something which would render most batsmen useless. To be denied depth perception when a West Indian giant is banging a bouncer in at close to 100 mph is a distinct disadvantage. To be denied legitimacy, as Dhoni repeatedly was, because his batting was not pretty and his captaincy in Test cricket limited, would¡¯ve crippled a lesser man.
Yet, Dhoni and Pataudi thrived, and more importantly than that, got the best out of men who might not have identified with them in any sense.
A wet behind the ears reporter, foolishly wearing shirtsleeves on a devilishly cold Delhi winter morning in 2000, arrived at the Nawab sahib¡¯s house for an interview. After running through some decidedly fidgety questions that pertained directly to batting and captaincy, the unavoidable subject of the loss of vision came up. ¡°Sometimes, when I tried to light a cigarette, I would miss the end by a quarter of an inch,¡± he conceded. ¡°And when I tried to pour water in my glass, it would go straight from jug to table.¡±
Reuters
Lounging on a diwan, the Nawab, who instructed the stripling to address him as Tiger, said that he had left the pouring of scotch into the glass to someone else, for there were some risks not worth taking. When the interview was done, the reporter offered up Tiger¡¯s Tale, the autobiography, for an autograph, and having secured a royal scrawl confessed that interviewing Pataudi was a dream come true. ¡°Young man, you better learn to dream bigger dreams then,¡± came the reply.
Several years later, the same reporter, now with a few years on the cricket beat under the belt, sat in a hotel room in Chennai with a young wicketkeeper from Jharkhand who was making waves with his monstrous hitting. ¡°I¡¯m one of the best sloggers in the team,¡± said Dhoni, underselling himself to a degree that would reveal itself fully in the years to come. When the interview was done, the conversation switched from stilted English to assured Hindi, and the words spoken were chilling.
Reuters
¡°I don¡¯t think I can play 10 years like a Tendulkar or Dravid,¡± said Dhoni. ¡°I love playing, and if I can have five good years, I¡¯ll be happy.¡± It turns out, Dhoni needn¡¯t have worried. He gave up the Test captaincy when there was little threat of him being replaced and walked away from the limited-overs crown before anyone who mattered asked a question about his hand on the rudder.
It is said that Indian cricket has place only for two types of characters: the first, who has so little that cricket is his only chance of a good life and the second, who has nothing to lose and plays cricket because it¡¯s a glorious alternative to having to work for a living.
Dhoni and Pataudi, two sides of a gold coin that is still hard currency in Indian cricket, even in this age of demonetisation.