MS Dhoni: The magician who makes himself disappear

I have always loved observing MS go about his work. With other cricketers, it was entertainment, a show for which cameras had to be on them, relaying their antics. I’d get a sense that they knew the camera was there, that we were with them, watching their every move.

With MS, I always got the impression that we were sneaking up on him as he was extending himself to what is basically a profession, his day job. I’d wait for the camera to zoom in on his face. Or glue my ears to the speaker for an instruction in Hindi. Or watch how he shadow practised with two bats before the end overs.

I felt like I was being treated to the private demonstration a top-secret artefact in operation, and asked to form an analysis through observation alone. And I was never, ever disappointed.

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Over the last 2 years, MS has been using an unusual technique to gather the cricket ball behind the stumps. In a manner that even Ian Healy would be shocked by, MS would take 2-3 paces towards the throw as it was hurled in, and without looking, would flick it back onto the stumps.

By the time he collected the ball he could be anywhere- behind the stumps, in front of it, beside it. Yet he always hits the stumps with his flick. That’s MS in a nutshell- he found a way to get the job done. It wouldn’t be the way prescribed in the MCC manual or the way Adam Gilchrist might measuredly remove a bail with his left hand, but it was a way that always worked for him.

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I became increasingly aware of how MS never appealed unless he was certain of the batsman’s dismissal. Regardless of whether it was a catch or a stumping, I no longer waited for the umpire’s finger to be raised if his gloves were already in the air. Ever since his retirement in Tests, his involvement behind the stumps has increased manifold.

He always had a sharp eye, a quick arm- he’s taken one stump down with alarming confidence from his early days. Cricketers in their twilight days are often criticised when any observations are made about their ageing shoulder, lackadaisical footwork or ‘40s eyesight’. The first signs of a slow forward step to greet the ball or an extra 2 seconds while turning for a run are strung into headlines invariably ending in rhetorical question marks.

MS is now 34. If you saw the manner in which he sprinted for the second run off the final ball in India’s innings - and made the crease - you would not have guessed it. In a game which was won by 1 run, I cannot think of many more crucial moments than that.

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This team is more MS’ team than any other he has played with. The T20 team of ‘07 was more swashbuckling, the WC team of ‘11 was stellar. This team has his fingerprints all over it. He has moulded it, guided it and given it all his fatherly care. He has always been blessed with good batsmen. It’s in his genes. The bowling, he had to train and nurture.

He has the experienced Nehra, who started before MS was playing for India. Bumrah who follows up on all his yorker memos at once. Raina, with his cheeky guerrilla part-timers. Jadeja with his bullets down the straight. Ashwin who delivers a cricket ball better than any off-spinner in the world. And today, he found his latest progeny, Pandya, revelling in his first real test of his mettle.

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MS has always been one step ahead of the situation. He seems to be the Tendulkar of captaincy. Calculations are prepared in advance, geometries of fields are analysed and superimposed with the human strengths and weaknesses of his troops. Patterns in opposition players are rehashed in his mind, short boundaries and long legs are considered- even as he is taking in opinions from 10 other men, 1 of whom is already captain of the Test side.

I won’t be surprised if he was also drawing up a rough sketch for Super Over plans. He mentioned in the press conference after the game that ‘managing the chaos was important’. For a man who seems to have created his own career path in the middle of chaos extraordinaire for 12 years, I dare say he might have been the best man for the job.

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As he removed his glove for the final ball, I sat back in my chair, looked at his face and smiled, ready for what he had already visualised in his mind’s eye. What was to transpire in the next 60 seconds would stop a nation’s heartbeat before it was returned to a thumping joy.

I looked at Kohli, who was on one knee, pumping both fists and screaming in delight; then glanced at the other players climbed atop one another in maddening happiness. My eyes searched for MS. Surely, this is the kind of exhilarating game that gets to the saintly recesses of even his character.

Surely, he must be hopping and shouting, unable to believe that he was able to pull yet another game away from the jaws of defeat and keep the headlines from raining hell on the team. These are situations he must have dreamt of when he took over the captaincy. He’s picking up a stump... He seems to have drifted away. The rest of the players are climbing atop one another. Where is he? Skipper? MS?