The Dhoni Touch

by Bharat Sundaresan

  ‘If a child walks out of the school and his parents are waiting for him with the car, he won’t learn anything. Let the kid walk to the school by himself rather than getting dropped off daily. If he gets late, he should know school mein late aane se kya punishment hoti hai (what punishment awaits him for being late). This is the struggle,’ Banerjee explains.

  ‘He Doesn’t Fear Failure’

  It’s no wonder that Banerjee saw in Dhoni a perfect fit. For, it was not just when he graced the international arena that Dhoni became the foremost pragmatist of his generation, he’d always been one, as coach Banerjee recalls. It helped that he also had a coach as pragmatic as he was. Banerjee insists that Dhoni embraced the struggle, rather than fighting it or shying away from it. It’s something he continues to do.

  ‘It’s not like they were ever short of money or food. Mahi’s struggle was different. In those days, most kids didn’t own their own kits. We had to manage. These days, mummy, papa will buy full flashy kit for their kids, and they’ll come, sit and watch them all day long. Those days, at the most you had your own water bottle. Mahi enjoyed the grind of becoming a sportsman. He thrived on it. Struggle se aadmi seekhta hai. (A person learns through struggle.) It teaches you to take decisions,’ says Banerjee.

  Another aspect of Dhoni’s personality—one that has left the cricket world in awe—which impressed Banerjee rather early was the ability to shake off every external element, including the trappings of fame, while he was in the middle.

  ‘Mahi is still learning his craft. He never stops learning. Sometimes I see him and I’m reminded of the sixth-standard boy whom I met all those years ago. The eagerness to learn, which can be seen in his eyes, has never dimmed. Most kids at that age will play one or two tournaments, score a few runs here and there and start showing off like they know everything there is to know about the sport. Mahi never showed off even then. Practice toh practice, match toh match, koi dikkat nahi hai. (If it’s practice, it’s going to be practice. Same with matches. No confusion.)’

  Dhoni brought the same attitude even to his academics. Though Banerjee wasn’t ever directly involved with his star student’s studies, he remembers one visit to the Dhoni household very vividly. That was when Mahi’s mother pulled up the coach and gave him a piece of her mind.

  ‘She had some stern words for me,’ he says with a guffaw. ‘She said, “If his marks and studies suffer, I will not spare you.”’

  But Dhoni himself was never too stressed by the task of managing his cricket and studies. The term ‘exam fever’ never existed in the Dhoni book, says the coach. Even during the exam season, if anyone was to call him for a match, Dhoni would write the exam and then go to play. And not just any exam—he did so even during his Class XII exams. Banerjee still shakes his head in disbelief when he recalls one particular incident. With the mother’s threat still very much in his mind, the shocked coach approached Mahi to find out if he was actually serious about going to Orissa to represent his club, Central Coal Limited (CCL), in a league match in between the board exams.

  ‘I told him, “This is not an internal exam. That we can manage. These are your boards. Beta, aren’t you worried?” He said, “Sir, pass ho jaaonga main (I will pass), don’t worry.” ‘The board exam started at 10 a.m. DPS Ranchi was the centre; 1 p.m. it finished. The CCL car was waiting for him from 11.30 itself with his kit and bag. He got out, changed from his school clothes, got into the car and headed straight to the station to take the train. You get a two-day gap between papers during the boards. He returned after two days, started studying and went and took the exam the following day.’ Dhoni ended up scoring somewhere between 55–60 per cent in his twelfth-standard exams where commerce was his main subject. Incidentally, a lot of his friends who ‘studied day and night’, say both Chittu and Banerjee, fared no better.

  ‘Mahi never stressed too much about studies. His sister would often go to one of his classmates’ house to get his notes sorted since he had missed classes due to cricket,’ Banerjee reveals.

  Dhoni’s style of studying, like every other aspect of him, was unique. The night before the exam, his sister would read the notes out aloud while he closed his eyes and listened. That was all he needed. Banerjee isn’t too surprised about how Dhoni approaches run chases in limited-overs cricket. He’s seen him employ the same ‘cool as ice’ demeanour to the examinations he faced off the field.

  ‘He realized that the more tense you are, the more nervous you get and your performance gets affected. He employs the same mindset to everything in life. Exam and cricket ka funda are the same. If out ho gaye, toh out. So, why fret about it before it happens. He doesn’t fear failure. That’s where this innate confidence comes from,’ says Banerjee.

  And Dhoni’s incredible self-confidence seems to have nothing to do with whether things were going his way or not. Banerjee remembers that his ward was as confident as ever even during some of the lowest points in his life. One of them came early in his career, just around the time he had started making a name for himself on the domestic circuit and had even earned a call-up to the national camp in Chandigarh. Back then in 2001, Dhoni was competing against Deep Dasgupta and Ajay Ratra for a spot in the India A squad. A stint at the national camp alongside the best players in the country would have given him a vital first-hand glimpse at the level he was working so hard to reach. Unfortunately, Dhoni fractured his wrist and had to give the trip a miss. Banerjee found himself in the difficult position of checking on Mahi’s morale and making sure that the youngster didn’t take the blow too badly.

  ‘I asked him, “Tum jaaoge nahi? (You won’t go?)” I couldn’t say anything negative to him in that state. I was worried whether he’ll get another chance. It’s always tricky for a wicketkeeper. And that was the time India had found a number of them, some even younger than Mahi. But he was the one who told me, “Don’t worry, sir. I know I’ll get one more chance, you just wait and see, and I’ll take that chance.” That was the kind of unbelievable confidence he had in himself,’ Banerjee says with a wide smile.

  An emotion that Banerjee claims to have never seen in Dhoni is that of anger or frustration. This, despite all the trials and tribulations he underwent before his star began to rise. There was the snub from the MECON selectors. But that was not all. There was always an obstacle to overcome and always a detractor to be proved wrong. But while Dhoni rode through them with as much equanimity as ever, it was often painful for his support crew, the likes of Chittu, coach Banerjee and Chottu-bhaiya.

  ‘Whether it was with SAIL, CCL, Railways, Ranji or India A, there was always some issue he had to deal with. I remember at South Eastern Railway, some players didn’t want Mahi to bat higher up the order, because they were scared he would score runs and progress past them. He already had a reputation of being a big hitter. But he never protested,’ chimes in Chittu, who had so far sat tending to the many messages on his two phones.

  ‘Mahi’s nature is that he doesn’t do bad things to anybody. Even if someone wrongs him in any way, the worst Mahi will do is stop talking to them. Door rehta hai, lekin bolega nahi ki tum galat ho. (He stays away from them, but will never say they are wrong.) If he gets angry, nobody can stand in front of him. It’s true when they say those who get angry rarely are the scariest when they do. Luckily, only Sakshi and I get to see that side of him,’ Chittu laughs before holding his ears and shaking his head, with his tongue sticking out.

  Almost on cue, Chittu receives a call and excuses himself. He promises to meet me later that night to continue our exploration of the world of Mahi, and takes leave of Banerjee with a quick joke.

  ‘Some guys are just talkative. Chittu is talkative,’ quips Banerjee as soon as his ex-student leaves the office. Then the topic slides back to Mahi without any prompting.

  ‘Mahi was never talkative. He’s a “write the answer to the point” kind of guy. Shy, almost an introvert. He always preferred the outdoors though and would make sure he sat next to a window in class. The
primary class kids would be playing and he would keep observing them,’ says Banerjee. That would often be mistaken for daydreaming, and was the only time Dhoni would be pulled up by a teacher. Those around him put it down to this insatiable need to observe and learn something new.

  I saw it for myself during IPL 2017 as he and Australian captain Steve Smith spent a good half hour grappling with a drone camera at the end of a practice session at the MCA stadium in Pune. The first fifteen minutes of fiddling was rather random, and not surprisingly, it was Dhoni—Mr Gadget to those around him—who cracked the code and had the drone flying.

  I share this with Banerjee and he cites an example of his own to highlight just how good Dhoni’s power to grasp any new skill is. ‘I had a scooter back in the day. I used to bring my son for practice those days. He was a little boy and one day he got hit on the leg by a stray shot that went in his direction. He was crying and needed to be taken home. I couldn’t leave the practice session. I asked Mahi if he would go. He agreed. “But I have a scooter, how will you go?” He said, “Give me the keys.” I looked at him with a bemused look on my face and asked, “Sab chalana aata hai? (Do you know to ride everything?)” He replied, “Bike toh aa gaya hai. Scooter bhi aa jaayega. (I know how to ride a bike. I’ll figure out how to ride a scooter too.)” And just like that, he comfortably rode my scooter home. That was only through observing me all those years. To my knowledge, he had never ridden a scooter before.’

  Dhoni’s quiet yet affable nature also made him really popular in school and in the dressing room. He would never say much but when he did, he would either have those around him in splits or make them sit up and notice.

  ‘He would respect everyone, so he got respect back. That’s the way he plays. Khelke respect lene mein and senior bolke respect lene mein farak hai. (There’s a difference in gaining respect through your game, and gaining it by merely being a senior.),’ says Banerjee.

  This was the time Dhoni started wearing full-sleeved shirts while keeping wickets. While the full sleeve invokes derisive looks on the field when it comes to a bowler—considering its association with bowlers with dodgy actions—in Dhoni’s case, it was once again a practical move. There was one match in particular in Jamshedpur when the harsh sun and dry heat during the summer burnt the hair on his arms. It was to prevent this that Dhoni turned to covering his arms completely while behind the stumps, a practice that became a habit which continues to this day.

  Then there was a match in 1997 where Dhoni, a Class X student, insisted on opening and got his way; it was the innings that Banerjee considers the turning point of his career. It was on an important day, an inter-school final. Dhoni ended up scoring an unbeaten 213 and shared a 378-run stand with Shabir Husain for the first wicket. That was the innings which brought him his first professional contract with the CCL. But if Banerjee had had his way, it might not have turned out quite like that.

  ‘The inter-school matches used to be played on matting. So, opening was not a great idea for him. We preferred him at (No.) four because that’s where most runs came from in those matches. He would walk out by the eighth or the ninth over and the ball would have lost its shine. The ball would then keep low and allow him to hit fatafat, which was his style even back then. Plus this was a final. So I was really worried,’ says Banerjee. But Dhoni was adamant despite his coach warning him about the peril the team would be in if he made that one mistake against the moving ball and got out early. Eventually, upon realizing that Dhoni was going to have his way, Banerjee caved in but only on one condition.

  ‘I will not make anyone pad up. Not even the No. 3. If you go there, you have to finish it. I wanted to change his playing habit. If you open, you have to change your style of playing. I don’t even remember whether I stood by my word and stopped the No. 3 from padding up. We didn’t need him. Those two finished off the run chase without losing a wicket,’ says Banerjee.

  ‘That was the turning point. I just sat on the sidelines and watched in amazement. That innings proved to me that he’ll play for India.’ Banerjee’s eyes twinkle as if he can still see it in front of his eyes two decades later.

  Banerjee, incidentally, wasn’t the only one at DAV to foresee the superhuman rise of Dhoni. There was someone else too, and she wasn’t even at the ground to witness that blitzkrieg. She was one of Dhoni’s classmates. Banerjee still sounds flabbergasted while talking about her.

  ‘I had gone to his class to call him for a match. The teachers would create a fuss if I sent another kid. It was an “accounts” lecture in eleventh or twelfth standard.’ The teacher in class that day was Sharmistha Kumar, who taught business and accounts. Later in the staff room, it was Kumar who would tell Banerjee about her encounter with the unlikely Nostradamus.

  ‘So, apparently, as soon as Mahi and I left, one girl suddenly got up, and said, “Ma’am, don’t let him go. Take his autograph before you let him go. You won’t get it later on.” I told her but who knows when or if he’ll play for India. Later on, when Mahi was picked for India, one of the first people I thought of was that girl who foresaw his rise before anyone else,’ says Banerjee.

  I wondered aloud whether Banerjee sir would have even noticed Dhoni if he wasn’t a sportsman, that is, considering his unassuming disposition. The veteran coach almost dismisses the thought, saying he couldn’t ever picture Mahi as a non-sportsman, since that’s all he saw the boy doing from the first time they met—play sport.

  We are interrupted a couple of times as the peon knocks on the door asking for the keys to the badminton court. It is summer-camp time and the kids training for badminton have arrived for the evening session. The mention of the badminton court immediately evokes more Mahi talk.

  ‘He obviously can’t come as often as before but whenever he does, I know the only place in school that he wants to visit. That’s the badminton court. So, we lock the whole premises and sneak him in. Chittu or one of his other friends will show up and he’ll be on the court for hours on end,’ says the coach. Dhoni was the head boy of the school in the sports category for a couple of years, but Banerjee says he could have been the overall head boy too, such was his reputation.

  And Sharmistha Kumar, the accounts teacher, agrees. In an interview to the Telegraph, she had said, ‘He spent a lot of time on the field, playing cricket, and when he came to class, I used to ask him, “My God, Dhoni, you have missed so many classes. What you will do now?” And he used to say, “Ma’am, you tell me how I can cope with my studies and my cricket given the limited time.” Any teacher was ready to help him because he was so polite and humble.’ She had also spoken about how all the teachers had pitched in to help Dhoni clear his final examination, and praised him for being a kid who ‘never indulged in gossip’.*

  What also endeared Mahi to his school teammates was his willingness to go the extra mile to ensure his team did well in every tournament it participated in. At times, it meant double duty for him, as by then he had already started playing for the CCL in the 1997–98 season. And on the days when school and club matches clashed, there would often be a mini tug-of-war between the coaches of both teams. The CCL would obviously get its way since Dhoni was a professional there, even as Banerjee tried everything to get his way.

  ‘Our school team depended totally on four or five players, including Mahi. We used to manage somehow without him. There was one situation when there was an important match for both teams on the same day. The CCL secretary was the district secretary. I requested him to let go of Mahi. I told him they have other big players in their office team. But not having Mahi leaves a huge hole in my team. Jaane dijiye usse. (Leave him for us.) He said no, we can’t play without him. Then I asked Mahi. He said, “Haan, hum khelenge (Yes, I’ll play) if the school match is pushed back by a day.” I said, “Lekin, two days mein two matches in this heat?” He said, “Teen khel loonga, sir. (I can play three, sir.)”’ Unlike with club matches, playing for the school meant carrying your team kit, etc., and if you got injured, the first-
aid had to be done by yourself. But Dhoni never made a fuss. And the fact that his team won more often than not when he was around, only added to his growing popularity.

  That Dhoni has managed to maintain his humility throughout doesn’t surprise Banerjee. The two meet often whenever the superstar is in town, and the coach has visited his pupil’s house on a few occasions. The junior Banerjee—whom Dhoni had scootered home as a teenager—is close to him and gushes about his Mahi-bhaiya. The coach says they share mutual respect and despite Dhoni’s meteoric rise, the equation between the two has not changed.

  ‘A lot of people tell me, “Dhoni se maangte kyun nahi ho, money and gifts? (Why don’t you ask Dhoni for money and gifts?)” A student–teacher relation is very different. Guru dakshina nahi poochna chahiye. (A guru should not ask for any offering from his disciple.) The only thing I ask of him is to keep performing at his best or at times to win the World Cup,’ says Banerjee.

  The coach believes that his ward has not made too many changes to his game. There was one particular quirk in his wicketkeeping that still amuses Banerjee. But we’ll come to that later in another chapter. The swivel hook and the cross-batted slog that Dhoni has mastered over the years come naturally to him, says the one who has seen the man at close quarters since his schooldays. As for Dhoni’s innate sense to pick length and his hawk-like hand-eye coordination, the coach puts that down to batting a lot on the ground next to the school gate.

  ‘There are small and big stones on that ground. There was no point in removing all the stones; it would have taken forever. So, we would put a mat on top of those stones and play. You could never be sure how the ball would behave. One would come to your ankles while the next would fly past your ear,’ recalls Banerjee. So, when Dhoni would practise his batting on this ungainly and awkward surface, he would simply focus on playing across the line. He would play a hook or pull shot to every ball that came his way.