In a piece originally published in The Nightwatchman, after the Test retirement of MS Dhoni, Tunku Varadarajan draws an unflattering portrait of India’s former skipper.
There is no straightforward way to look at Mahendra Singh Dhoni, the man who had captained India in 60 Tests by the time he retired. That is 11 Tests more than the next Indian, Sourav Ganguly, who could never be accused of being ice-cool under pressure, supremely athletic or unorthodox.
Those are Dhoni’s trademarks. The man isn’t just ice-cool, he’s Arctic. His face is inscrutable, seemingly carved from stone, his expression impassive even as his teammates erupt around him in response to sledging Aussies or Englishmen. Unusually for an Indian cricketer, his fitness is world-class; only Sachin Tendulkar, Kapil Dev and, perhaps, Mohammad Azharuddin were on a par.
As for orthodoxy, Dhoni has nary a trace of it. He is a cricketing autodidact who says no thank you to the textbook. His helicopter shot is, quite possibly, the most violent thrash one could hope to see. It brings together his iconoclasm and immense strength in a thrilling, high-speed whirl of body, arms and bat. Bludgeoning shots such as this have brought him more runs in Tests than any Indian wicket-keeper; among keeper/batsmen, only Adam Gilchrist and Mark Boucher have scored more. (Gilchrist is streets ahead; Boucher’s 5,515 runs came in 147 Tests, compared with Dhoni’s 4,876 in 90.) And Dhoni isn’t just a marauder or swashbuckler. He can, when required, be a most improbable barnacle. Remember the Lord’s Test in 2007, when he batted nearly three and a half hours for 76 not out and staved off certain defeat?
