MS Dhoni - Why we call him 'Captain Cool'

A cloudy day at the M.A.Chidambaram stadium, grey and overcast overhead conditions, a damp strip, a sluggish outfield, and the last but not the least, the ever ebullient, cricket frenzied crowd. A bad toss to lose he said, a colossal batting failure he didn’t say. The openers walked out on the plush green wet outfield amid the rapturous applause and the overwhelming decibel levels that soared across the stands as the left hander took guard. Taking a leaf out of Ravi Shastri‘s exaggeration, it is an India-Pakistan encounter and the atmosphere would be nothing short of electrifying. So was the mood, in sheer upbeat.

Soon, the grey skies overhead paved way for the clouds of defeat that loomed large, decimating a thousand sanguine minds, with ignominy starring upfront, drizzles of disappointment poured in, and the stage was set for a grand Indian batting collapse. Junaid Khan, the Pakistani pacer, galloped through the top order, castling four batsmen, and the drudgery was even more devastating as it was a discerning sight to see the stumps falling flat. Call it lack of foot movement or misjudging the line, it was nevertheless a disastrous start, not even in the wildest stretches of his nightmares would one contemplate such a debacle. So, reduced to 29/5, Mahendra Singh Dhoni, the protagonist, walked in.

To set the tone, MS Dhoni was amid all the flak and cynosure. Being the Indian captain, he fell prey to the critics who made scathing remarks on his captaincy and took potshots at his batting proficiency. The social media was abound with rancor and acrimony that was aimed at him, and any layman would call for his head. He was the punching bag, as he termed it. Making things worse, was the confession of a selector which said Dhoni was on the verge of being stripped of captaincy and was in course to lose his Test cap, before the superstitious boss intervened and arm twisted the selectors. All this would have taken a toll on this man. Being an Indian captain would put to shame even the best of managers, and with a string of low scores to complement it, he was the target for the purists or the Test cricket aficionados, obviously sans his supporters. He was hit by waves of gall that raised well above him and he was sinking under it, trying profusely to raise above, back to glory.

Facing 29/5, the pressure would have manifold. He walked in, calm and composed, with a resolute eye, a gritty mind and took guard in his own inimitable style. He toiled under the sultry and humid conditions, meticulously seeing off the new ball, scrupulously defending. He was far from form, looked rusty and was scratching beneath the surface. With a lackadaisical foot movement and an unorthodox technique, what entailed was a sheer delight for the spectators. He showed there is something beyond technique, class and form. The heart, the head, that matters the most. The connoisseurs of the game, who root for the textbook attributes were made a sheer mockery of. He grilled and ground the bowling, blunted its tooth, even if it gave way to a run-rate close to 3. He curbed his natural instincts and played a knock of fortitude, one of diligence that had the spectators in awe. As he wasn’t in the best of touch, he made friends between the ball and the bat, got his head in and stonewalled one end. He got the partnership ticking and frustrated the bowling with the grit he employed. He forestalled the damage that was impeding and brought the game on track. Once he tested the waters and got acquainted with the conditions, he went on stroking singles and rotating strike in his usual astounding way. He ran like a maniac and, as a result, was thoroughly dehydrated. He was there thirsting for water, often on his knees, pounding and wobbling. He lay on the pitch under, taking boughs of water, gaining breadth and paused for drinks over after over. The never-say-die attitude he is enriched with made him keep the dehydration at sea and he played shot after shot, scored run after run, cruising past his half century and anchoring the ship that was on its course to wreck.

The attitude he showed is something that needs to be elucidated. When the other batsmen fell like nine pins, he stood there manoeuvring the innings, unnerved by the dot balls, undeterred by the trickling runrate. He was never seen to lose his cool and in the process instilled a sense of responsibility in Raina who lost his head and went for a wild heave. He got his eyes set in, stomached the mounting pressure and saw off the knife edge that was hanging over the head, threatening to fall, and engineered the innings past the forty over mark. Now that he looked settled, he employed the long handle, stepped up the gas and upped the tempo with signature thunderous shots. The ball was sent out of the park with a powerful hit over long on, that brought out all the bottled anger he had reserved. A thud past the bowler for a boundary underlined the fact that he was playing to prove a point. He did, he scored a ton. From 29/5, he took the total to a respectable 228. Never once did the fortitude fade, never once did the mettle melt, never did the diligence die, never did the tenacity tilt, and never did he flounder.

The journey from the roads of Ranchi to the reigns of India cricket speaks volumes about this man. From the thick haired flashy youngster, he’s mutated to a salt and pepper haired bankable adult on whom lies the mantle of Indian cricket. From the swashbuckler to the accumulator he is today, it has been a spectacular journey. With over 7000 ODI runs under his kitty, he is certainly a force to reckon with in ODI cricket.

Heroes never give up. He decided not to give up and batted with utmost pluck and batted his way back to glory. He did sink under the draconian waves, yet he batted his way up, a jubilant and buoyant upcoming. Though India lost the game, this knock would find its place in the history books as the most grittiest and resolute knocks ever played under pressure. This is why the call him Captain Cool, folks.