About a month into this IPL, there was speculation that Mahendra Singh Dhoni was indeed fit, but was reluctant to take the field. Rumours said he had recovered from a calf strain, but didn’t want to upset the balance of the playing 11. Great balance, it has to be said—Chennai Super Kings finished 8th on the points table.
It’s not like I was expecting a miraculous turnaround if he did return. The bloke will be 45 in July; he plays cricket for two months a year and spends the rest farming in Ranchi. Anything from organic tomatoes to black chicken, he’s your guy. Just don’t ask for those brutal, game-ending sixes any more. Okay, maybe once or twice a season to quench your Thala thirst.
Frankly, it makes you long for what once was.
I remember pacing on my terrace in Noida back in 2007. The power was out. It was the T20 World Cup final, and I was tuning in on my pocket radio. It was not ideal, but I told myself I was following tradition—Madhavan Sr had tuned in to the 1983 final the same way.
As tension grew, I made my way to my friend’s house, just in time to see Sreesanth settle (if you could call it that) and take the catch that won India the trophy. It was the first time India had won a World Cup since 1983, and I swore my loyalty to this thrasher captain and his long copper hair.
The same year, when now-fugitive Lalit Modi announced the inaugural season of the IPL, Dhoni was made a marquee player alongside the likes of Sachin Tendulkar and Rahul Dravid. He would captain Chennai.
Cool, I thought, and scanned the newspaper for the squads. A shirtless photo of Andrew Symonds did pull me towards the Deccan Chargers, but CSK had Dhoni, my personal favourite Mike Hussey and someone called Napoleon Einstein. Of course I chose yellow.
The next 18 summers, the household was divided—I was firmly in Dhoni’s camp, father was loyal to the land that gave him work (Delhi Daredevils/Capitals), and mother wanted to support fellow woman Preity Zinta in a man’s world (Kings XI Punjab/Punjab Kings).
Of course, season after season, I gathered bragging rights as CSK made final after final and won a handful, too. Thala was the reason: shrewd captaincy, lightning gloves behind the stumps, and calm hitting at the death.
Sure, it’s a team sport and people like Stephen Fleming deserve as much credit as Dhoni, but 15-year-old me treated nuance like algebra. Best not to engage.
Even when the team was banned for two years (betting allegations against an insider), I told myself it had nothing to do with Dhoni. I promptly switched camp to the Rising Pune Supergiant, and my man took even that team to a final in 2017.
The following year was the comeback; CSK stormed back into the tournament and won their fourth title. Dhoni had done it again with a ‘Dads’ Army’—a team made up of those on the wrong side of 30.
They would win once more, in 2023, which many, including me, think back to as the perfect time for Dhoni to have called it a day.
But here we are in 2026, Thalapathy has taken the whistle from Thala and CSK have failed to make yet another playoffs. There is now talk, louder than ever, that Dhoni might step into the shadows.
The young fan in me does not want his last IPL innings to be the laboured 17-ball 16 he got against Rajasthan Royals last year. The neutral observer in me, however, understands it—he is past his prime. Perhaps we will see him in some other capacity, because let’s be honest, just his presence matters to the franchise. And its wallet.
Also, perhaps there was a message in last year’s innings. Think of it, the last time he bats in the IPL, if it is so, he scores 16. What is 1+6? Thala for a reason.
