Elvis

One hell of an encore

The first ball of a Chennai Super Kings innings is the start of a long crescendo. Whether they're setting the score or chasing it, their openers, Ruturaj Gaikwad and Rachin Ravindra, walk out aware that they are only the prelude to the main act. The powerplay phase - the initial six overs - is a fleeting spectacle. Shivam Dube, with his pyrotechnic batting, has often lit up the middle overs, but even he must eventually yield the stage. At every gig of this concert tour, the last few bars have belonged to the grinning saxophonist.

Witnessing this unfold is an event in itself. As the CSK innings approaches its climax, a wicket triggers a wave of euphoria amongst both sets of fans. The crowd rises as one, rendering the rest of the contest inconsequential for the next few minutes. The scene was no different at the Ekana Stadium in Lucknow on Friday. The collective roar of 50,000 spectators at Moeen Ali's dismissal forced me to dial down my headphone volume.

The camera lens then focused on the yellow dugout, confirming for the television audience what the live spectators had already witnessed: Mahendra Singh Dhoni was ready to bat.

In a recent survey, a staggering 71% of voters confessed that they would forfeit a day's work just to watch Dhoni walk out to bat. It's a weird display of unemployment levels during election season, but that's for another day.

If you've ever attended a CSK match, you'll know that the 71% figure isn't entirely hyperbolic. Take a random sample of 10 people near the Marina Beach, and most - if not all - will be happy to suspend their lives for a glimpse of Dhoni in the flesh.

(video courtesy: Nicholas Pooran)

In recent seasons, the anticipation has almost gained an extra dimension. Dhoni bid adieu to international cricket in August 2020, and since then, there has been a palpable sense of fear that he could announce his full retirement any day. Over the years, in interviews and post-match press conferences, he was frequently asked about the amount of fuel left in his tank. The closest he came to clear response was at the end of last year's IPL when, with moist eyes, he confessed to contemplating retirement but chose to "gift his fans" at least one more season.

This season was supposed to be that farewell walk, but he has returned in pristine form and is executing his batting role with metronomic precision. He saunters in during the final overs, dispatches bowlers to all corners, and jogs off the field without a bead of sweat on his eyebrow. On Friday night, he scored 28 off 9 balls; against Mumbai Indians at the Wankhede, he scored 20 off 4. Dhoni is yet to be dismissed this season and is going at a surreal strike-rate of 255.9.

This has been a remarkable display of calibre and fitness from someone who, by his own admission, doesn't spend much time polishing his technique in the ten months of the year when he is not wearing the CSK yellow.

With every match, you can't help but wonder, “Surely some bowler will stop this 42-year-old strawberry enthusiast!” And yet, after every game, we are all reminded that strawberries are actually performance-enhancing superfoods with the mystical ability to disrupt a bowler's rhythm.

We're at the midpoint of this year's IPL. If one were to draw up a team of the standout performers so far, Dhoni would have little competition for the wicketkeeper's spot. We started with him stepping down from captaincy, perhaps hinting at an imminent last bow, and have now reached a stage where there are playful whispers about the Indian team management coaxing him to reverse his retirement for the upcoming T20 World Cup.

In the coming few weeks, the inevitable question will rear its head again: is this a final flourish, or do we dare to dream of him being reinvigorated by all these performances? When the question comes, I'm glad that Dhoni will be able to respond with a grin rather than a sheepish smile.

A few years back, Roger Waters was touring Europe with his band. The show was called The Wall and he played songs from that famous Pink Floyd album from 1979. Most of that record, bar one song, was composed by Waters himself. And when Comfortably Numb came on in London, Waters sang the first verse and threw the mic upstairs. Above the giant electronic screen stood his old mate David Gilmour, bathed in white light, guitar strapped to his chest. They sang the rest of the song together.

For Pink Floyd fans like me, this was exhilarating. Gilmour and Waters together! They had stopped playing and touring as one for decades. But once the ecstasy from the visuals simmered down, the song became tough to go through. Not because these two legends were well past their prime - that's only normal; they're 78 and 80 respectively - but seeing them strain, with croaked voices and feeble fingers, made the experience all the more poignant. Honestly, I was listening for the memories and not for what was reaching my ears. I cannot believe I'm saying this, but we may have hit a juncture where Gilmour and Waters are best appreciated on tape.

Many retirements unfold with a similar melancholic arc. It's a jarring sight when exocet strikers find out that they can't outpace defenders anymore, or when a tennis player with a powerhouse forehand isn't able to put one past her opponent. Most of Dhoni's predecessors had to confront their mortality on the pitch before retreating to the pavilion and zipping up their kit bag.

For a considerable period, it seemed like he would trace the same trajectory. The clip of his run-out from the 2019 World Cup semi-final has been replayed ad nauseam, but watch the full delivery and observe how late he reacts to Lockie Ferguson's ball. That's not someone at the peak of their game. Over the last 3-4 years, even CSK have reshaped their batting linup to utilise Dhoni as a bonus hitter rather than a regular contributor. And for good reason.

Yet, seemingly out of the blue, he has stumbled upon a magic button. No one, not even the two hemispheres of Dhoni's brain, can fully comprehend what has planned next, but at this moment, he's astride a Harley Davidson, clad in a leather jacket and jet-black sunglasses, cruising into the wind as if he owns the streets.

When Dhoni is in this rhythm, he is cricket’s answer to Elvis. He could stand alone on the pitch, practising his shots, and people would pay to watch that. I know I would.