Over the last couple of weeks, the first two lines of a Bollywood song from 1976 have taken new life. If you have been around the internet, or know anyone remotely interested in cricket, that song has definitely reached your social media timelines or WhatsApp groups. News anchors have played it on national television and writers have spoken about it in their tributes to one of modern cricket’s great poets - Mahendra Singh Dhoni.
Let’s have it once more.
“Main pal do pal ka shayar hun,
Pal do pal meri kahaani hai…”
The essence of those two lines — written by Sahir Ludhianvi — lies in the fleeting nature of fame. Dhoni's love for this song goes long back, further than any conversation about Instagram or retirement. He once sang it during a visit to an army regiment. He has even sung it to his teammates. It is, then, no surprise that these lines have influenced his idea of life and cricket. Dhoni’s ability to retain perspective is rare, almost unheard of. In pictures of title celebrations, he is often on the edge of the frame.
Dhoni last played for India more than a year back, and was probably harbouring hope of walking out in the India blue for one last ICC tournament — the World T20 initially scheduled for later this year. Once cricket paused indefinitely, and tournaments started to get postponed, his retirement was always around the corner. Even accounting for his incredible fitness, chances are, his batting wouldn’t have held for 12 more months, especially given the lack of possible match-practice.
The overwhelming sentiment after his announcement was thick with melancholia, wistfulness, and a recollection of the ways he could’ve still contributed to the Indian limited-overs team. Dhoni has left such an incredible impact on the game that it seems like a disservice to discuss him through his numbers, which, by the way, also border on the absurd.
Naturally, when an athlete of Dhoni's stature brings down the shutters on their career, you fear you have reached the end of a line. In a follow-up to all this outpouring of love, a bunch of fans urged BCCI to retire jersey number 7 in Dhoni’s honour.
Retiring numbers isn’t unprecedented. Chicago Bulls retired the 23 right after Michael Jordan called time on his career. AC Milan, Italy’s second most successful football club, retired jersey number 3 after Paolo Maldini hung his boots. The list is long, and in most of those cases, the names carry a lot of weight.
Hence, the sentiment is justified and understandable. Certain numbers become synonymous with a personality; and given cricket’s very recent addition of jersey numbers, the India 7, in that intangible way, belongs to Dhoni. There is a song about it too. His own clothing brand is named Seven. It is a little difficult, uncomfortable even for some, to imagine someone else wearing that number. I get it. But this thought needs questioning.
For starters, cricket’s relationship with jersey numbers is a little haphazard. The ODI World Cup in 1999 was the first major tournament where shirts came with numbers on the back. The captains were then asked to wear the number 1 and keep the rest of the team numbers within a certain range. Barring this, there has never been any rule or positional significance, unlike in basketball or football.
So players just picked any number they wanted. It became an expression. In 2001, Shane Warne, in honour of his childhood hero Dermott Brereton, chose jersey number 23. Herschelle Gibbs wore 00. Kamran Akmal turned up in 158 because it was his highest Test match score. Jacques Kallis wore jersey number 65 in memoriam of his late father who passed away at the age of 65. Jimmy Anderson has his shirt number (9) as part of his social media handles, as does Rohit Sharma.
Dhoni seems born for the 7, with a birthday of 7th July and his most frequent batting position in ODI cricket. It helps, too, that he is a fan of Manchester United, a football club where the jersey number 7 holds more significance than any other. Between George Best and Cristiano Ronaldo, that number has become an entity unto itself. It is now a responsibility, a baton handed over. Kids in Salford grow up dreaming to wear the United 7, like you can imagine kids in New York dreaming of the Jordan 23 or the Kobe 8.
For many in India, MSD is no less an inspirational figure than Cristiano or Best or Jordan. A lot of hopeful cricketers in Madras and Bombay, often seen tugging heavy kit-bags on their way to cricket grounds at sleepy hours of the morning, dream of wearing the India 7. Some of them might turn out to be precociously talented, worthy of becoming India’s next batting or wicketkeeping superstar, or even a future captain. Just like a lot of hopefuls from Dhoni’s generation would’ve, one day, wanted to wear the India 10, after Sachin Tendulkar.
In their defence, BCCI tried, but had to retrace their steps after mass outrage when Shardul Thakur — another Mumbaikar — was given that jersey recently. Faced by an idle, easily-triggered populace, the BCCI chose to pick its battles and retired jersey number 10.
For someone like Prithvi Shaw or Shubman Gill, or someone slightly older, who grew up idolising Sachin and wanted to wear that 10 one day, doesn’t this feel like a dream taken away? Yes, sure, a jersey number will not stop you from taking 500 ODI wickets or scoring 15000 runs, but it is one of the threads that bind your starry-eyed childhood to the professional level you now aspire to. It was the number you once asked for at counterfeit stores. Kids can still buy a Tendulkar 10 jersey — I spotted one outside Eden Gardens last year — but they will know that the real thing will never have their name with that number.
Emulating your heroes is a great motivator in sport and life; and jersey numbers, like that of Jordan, Dhoni, and Tendulkar, become part of the target. They become important life milestones.
At a Nike event in 2019, LeBron spoke about his love for the number 23 — “When I started playing basketball, I was like: Oh man, that two-three looks good. I want to be able to fly like him. I want to be able to dunk on somebody like him. I want to be able to stick out my tongue in the air like MJ!” This season, he has already begun conversations about passing the Lakers 23 over to Anthony Davis, the heir apparent.
Imagine if, like in football or basketball, these numbers become a rite of passage. Some may struggle under the weight of history that will come with it, sure, but those who flourish will amplify its legacy. We may never know, but it could be what Dhoni hopes for too. He entered and left cricket knowing that the bright spotlights will dim one day and he’ll have to pass over the torch to the next runner.
This Week
Articles:
This NYT profile on Chadwick Boseman from early 2019
If you have watched enough Hollywood, you’ve heard Richard Wagner’s music. But how much? This much.
Samanth Subramanian’s incredible longread about James Anderson and fast bowling
Sport, politics, and ignorance by Jarrod Kimber
Books:
Truck De India! by Rajat Ubhaykar: Refreshingly original take on a travelogue. The author hitchhikes across India on trucks and comes back with stories about a community and subculture that’s often ignored and looked past.