Former Australian wicket-keeper batsman Adam Gilchrist took the decision to quit Test cricket in a short span of time: a few seconds after he failed to grab a snick. Before the ball hit the ground after it flew off his gloves, the hugely popular left-hander knew it was time-up for him. For a cricketer, retirement is like a silken cover-drive—it is all about timing. One should retire making people ask “why” rather than “why not”.
Sunil Gavaskar called it a day when the entire country wanted him to play on. With all respects to his on-field heroics, Kapil Dev made a mess of his retirement decision. In the last few years of his career, he was an “ordinary passenger” with the team—toothless and blunt. Often a baggage. Even Sachin Tendulkar was a trifle late in playing the retirement stroke. Even his fans had become concerned about his slowing reflexes. You don’t want to see a great player fall to the realm of an average player. Look at Brian Lara. We haven’t had enough of him! But all good things will come to an end.
One wonders what the moment of conviction was for Indian captain Mahendra Singh Dhoni. Was it anytime during the drawn Boxing Day Test from Dec. 26-30 or in the second Test at Brisbane which his team lost? Or, was it a forced one? Are there any invisible strings that pull the puppet? Dhoni, known as MSD or Mahi, is an intelligent man who obviously did not want a sorry slide from “Captain Cool” to “Captain Fool”. And, it is difficult to make out from his expressions what really is going on in his heart because he seldom wears his heart on his sleeve—unlike his successor, Virat Kohli.
If Tendulkar was the personification of a post-liberalisation India’s middle-class aspirations, Dhoni was every village boy’s dream-come-true. His streaked long mane, stories about his habit of drinking litres of milk, the power that flows through his limbs, his sagely nonchalance and the shots which he played with blue-collar techniques that made the lords of the game look down their nose with an upward-titled head and a stiff-upper lip—all these made Dhoni a cult of speed and dare-devil destruction.
He was obviously no Syed Kirmani behind the stumps when he started off. Over the years his wicket-keeping skills improved but he still wasn’t sure if his left elbow would lead him into a cover-drive or his right leg would go back-and-across when he cut or pulled. But the ball would scream to thud on the boundary hoarding. Simple. Perhaps most significant of all Dhoni’s contributions to Indian cricket was the emergence of talented cricketers from the dustbowls of rural India. Under his wings, raw and shy players who couldn’t speak public-school-English demonstrated guts to outplay their urban counterparts. He had given them plenty of opportunity and confidence to stand up and punch back. Without him at the helm, perhaps, a Joginder Singh would not have ever bowled in a T20 match, forget bowling in the final over in an India-Pak World Cup final.
But being Dhoni was not easy. Success brought money, and money a coterie of men who are out there to make more money. Endorsements and the Indian Premier League swelled his purse. A fat purse fulfills all desires. He bought an array of motorbikes, owned a racing team, and a football franchise. As years wore on, Dhoni cut his hair, soon shaved it off and experimented with a few styles. Somewhere in between came in the “helicopter”—scooping the ball from under his eyes to beyond the boundary. With the IPL came N Sreenivasan, and with him his son-in-law, Gurunath Meiyappan, and soon there were shadows across Dhoni’s face and façade. The adage goes: “Tell me who your friends are, and I will tell you who you are.”
Dhoni’s top corporate job at Sreenivasan’s India Cements and captaincy of his IPL team Chennai Super Kings have given him a ringside view of how to mix the business of cement and cricket. It is not easy to wade through unsettled cement. It is not as uncomplicated as hoisting Ruwan Kulasekhara over the long-off fence to win the ICC World Cup.
Over the years, the sheen has gradually gone off the captain’s visage. Dhoni has largely fallen silent. Pregnant and thoughtful. After the Mudgal Committee report on betting allegations over IPL-6, there have been murmurs and under-the-breath asides but no one has so far dared to ask the million-dollar question. It is rumoured that Dhoni is listed as “Individual 2” in the report and that Meiyappan, the main suspect, was close to Dhoni and was a regular visitor to his hotel room during the under-the-scanner IPL-6. The Supreme Court has asked not to reveal the name/s of players mentioned in the Mudgal Committee report till the World Cup, which is in the first quarter of 2015.
Dhoni is not an idiot. His decision to quit Test cricket may not be as whimsical or sudden as that of Gilchrist’s. One of the game’s great “finishers”, Dhoni knows how to pace his innings and when to go for the kill. His seemingly out-of-the-blue decision to retire from Test cricket may not be an emotional one but a calculated move.
Ten more matches, and the most successful Indian Test captain would have played his 100th Test. Not many people would want to let go off a significant milestone in a cricketer’s career. His retirement is not strictly to make way for younger generation as Dhoni is 33 and Kohli is 26. Seven to ten years is not a generation. They are from the same peer group. Dhoni has been a brave captain, who would not give in to any attack unless it is all over.
His jumping the ship in between a prestigious series is quite uncharacteristic of him. His subtle reference to the Kohli-Dhawan spat in the dressing room during the Gabba Test was also out of sync with his way of doing things. All these make Dhoni’s retirement decision a mystery and make one wonder if there are any strings or shadows lurking behind. Dhoni is a terrific timer and that’s why there is more to the “helicopter shot” at Melbourne than what meets the common eye.
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