So, MS Dhoni wants to trademark “Mr Cool”. Yes, you read that right. Our man from Ranchi has moved the papers in Kolkata to officially own the tag that millions of cricket fans unofficially stamped on him long ago.
As someone who’s shared dressing rooms with hotheads and heartbreakers, I’ll say this upfront—Dhoni has every right. If staying calm in crunch moments were a sport, Mahi would have a career average of 99.9. But still, the timing of this legal move has sparked some interesting dressing-room chatter.
Could it be that Dhoni’s a little worried someone else might steal the cool crown? Maybe a certain Shubman Gill, who—even after witnessing half a dozen catches go down like slippery bars of soap—didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow in England? That first Test was a fine exhibition of how not to field when you’re leading on Day Four. And yet, Gill kept that calm, deadpan face. Dhoni-esque, some said. Trademark-infringement-level cool, I wonder?
Poor Yashasvi Jaiswal (yes, let’s at least get his name right while pointing fingers), who dazzled with the bat, probably leaked as many runs in the field as he scored. For every glorious cover drive, there was a misfield or a dropped chance. Balance restored, karma served. As for the rest of the young brigade? They looked like they’d mistaken the red ball for a hot potato.
And where was the media focus amid this fielding fiasco? Not on the butterfingers, no, sir. Instead, a few wise voices called for the head of the Head Coach, Gautam Gambhir. Yes, that Gambhir, whose natural expression could curdle milk and whose playing days were marked by glorious hundreds and permanent frowns.
Now suddenly, the knives are out—he’s too political, too intense, too serious to be a coach. Wait, wasn’t that seriousness his superpower on the field? One might’ve thought his crime was fielding at slip with his arms crossed. But let’s not forget: India didn’t lose because Gambhir smiled too little. We lost because we caught too little.
The truth? Coaching is a team effort. And the fielding coach, T. Dilip—recalled like a faulty product from an earlier season—should not be left off the hook. Despite his impressive CV (he’s trained Ranji sides, India A, and served under Dravid), Dilip’s boys dropped more than a Wi-Fi signal in a Jio outage. And yet, the spotlight skips him entirely?
What about Abhishek Nayar and Ryan ten Doeschate—the assistant coaches with pretty solid cricketing credentials themselves? No calls for their heads. Why? Because Gambhir is a juicier target, especially if you remember his brief stint in politics. Cricket punditry today comes with side servings of agenda.
Now, back to Dhoni. The man who rarely let his pulse rise above 60, even when Joginder Sharma was bowling the final over in a World Cup final. Compare that with the more recent captain-coach duos—Virat Kohli and Ravi Shastri—who could set off car alarms with their decibel levels alone. Passion? Absolutely. Cool? Not quite.
The only other sportsman I can think of who came close to Dhoni’s ice-veins demeanor was Sweden’s Björn Borg, whose icy calm earned him the nickname ‘Iceberg’. Maybe Dhoni has a point. In a world of screamers and chest-thumpers, real calm is rare—and worth protecting.
So yes, trademark that title, Mahi. Before someone tries to auction it off on an OTT series or sneak it into their Insta bio.
You earned it. You embodied it. And let’s be honest—no one else in Indian cricket ever wore “Mr Cool” quite like you did.
As for the rest? Let’s just say, if fielding were a test of composure, Dhoni wouldn’t need a lawyer. The current lot would.
