Royals is a renaissance team led by a renaissance man named Rahul Dravid — and a bunch of enterprising happy men who represent the aspirations of millions of hardworking Indians.

A lot of people simply love the Rajasthan Royals because they are the perpetual underdogs.

It doesn’t matter that they have won the inaugural title, have been doing well on and off the field, haven’t lost more than four matches this year, and might well be on their way to the playoffs.

Still, they are the underdogs because they don’t have stars, starry airs and demi-gods. Their owners are not pushy, and they have a lot of hardworking men from India’s hinterland who realise their big-stage dreams right in front of our eyes.

You certainly develop Dickensian sympathies (courtesy NYT film reviewer Stephen Holden) for them.

But for me, Royals is also a renaissance team led by a renaissance man named Rahul Dravid and a bunch of enterprising happy men who represent the aspirations of millions of hardworking, but less privileged Indians who exude a visible cultural refinement and endearing poise as their captain does.

They win eight out of ten times, still they are not physically aggressive, don’t swagger and don’t flex their muscles. When they lose, they don’t look like losers either. And they are extremely fair — to the point of appearing meek in the field as indicated by the points for the Fair Play Award.

Isn’t it simply amazing how a trans-national team of people — ranging from a defiant Shane Watson to a droopy Kevon Cooper — exude the same polymathic and understated the character of its leader?

I have more than half a dozen reasons to love the team and marvel at its players. Let me list just three:

One: Rahul Dravid - the renaissance man

Despite his remarkable records in international cricket (third highest test scorer after Sachin Tendulkar and Ricky Ponting, second highest Indian scorer in ODI and third greatest test player after Don Bradman and Tendulkar according to Wisden; captain of India in 25 test matches and 79 ODIs, Padma Bhushan and so on), he always underplayed himself. He doesn’t get celebrated like Sachin, MS Dhoni or even Virat Kohli, because he doesn’t celebrate himself.

He is a man who let go of things, whether it’s his captaincy or his place in the team.

Other than the enormous ethic and character that he imparts to his team, one of the reasons for the success of the Royals is the backing that Rahul gives to his non-star players. Nobody in world cricket would have given a 42-year old club cricketer from Mumbai (Pravin Tambe) a debut-chance the way he did in the match against the Pune Warriors. He appears to be the counter-force to the satraps of the BCCI in professional cricket. Had the BCCI directly selected the players for IPL teams, many of the Royals wouldn’t have made the cut.

Perhaps he is the only one who rotates the players on the bench to give a chance to everyone — it's not just the winners who take it all. As he says, it is not about winning, but playing good cricket.

To me, he is also the most well-spoken cricketer in India. His post-match interviews are so delectable for the quality of his language, the nuances and insights. His analysis betrays a deep understanding of the game and its people.

“Hope, transformation and results” is the philosophy behind transformational leadership. Looks like Dravid embodies it. He doesn’t think or look too far. By his own admission, the points-table and the playoffs don’t matter to him or the team. What matters is playing good cricket. Even his team-members say the same thing.

I remember running after Dravid with a scrap of paper that I could lay my hands on for an autograph for my son at the Marriot in Islamabad in 2006. He was so genial and was hardly annoyed when a never-ending stream of people dragged him from his dinner table to take pictures with him. He asked me if I came all the way from India to watch the match. I said yes, although I was there on work, because I thought that would make him happy.

Two: Stuart Binny

I grew up watching his father Roger Binny and his unique sideways bowling action of a Javelin thrower and hence have a paternal affection for Stuart. Roger Binny is perhaps among the most unsung heroes of the 1983 World Cup and the subsequent World Championship of Cricket in Australia that saw the emergence of India in limited overs cricket.

In the World Cup, it was not Kapil Dev who took the maximum wickets for India, but Binny. Without his record 18 wickets, most of which came at crucial times, and his agile fielding, India couldn’t have made it to the top. Ditto in 1985 World Series Championship, where he took 17 wickets.

In both the World Cup and the World Championship, commentators called it the Binny factor - his swinging ball that got India the early breakthroughs. He also could bat and was not afraid of pulling or hooking. Still, the man couldn’t play more than 27 tests and 72 ODIs. He always appeared silent and downcast and probably neglected. Even in his post-retirement life, the maximum he gained was the role of a selector, that too in 2012, years later than people like Kiran More.

Now when I see Stuart Binny getting accolades for his useful overs, faultless fielding and gritty batting when his team needs them the most, I think of the Binny factor of the 1980s. There is a Binny factor in the Royals’ IPL campaign too. Many cricket experts argue that he looks better than many others in the Indian team, but is yet to get the attention of the mighty selectors and the BCCI.

Will he also go his father’s way? At least he has the IPL to keep him gainfully employed.

Three: Sanju Samson

This kid is a revelation and he excites me — just 18 and from the literal cricketing-outback of Kerala. In a world of cross-batted shots and instant gratification, he is vintage — an elegant gait, sound technique and absolute confidence in the midst of demi-gods and stars.

The effusive praise by Dravid is a reflection of Sanju’s talent and character. He is a solid backfoot player - a rarity in today’s instant cricket and has all the shots in the book and can do a mean hook or pull without fear. As Dravid said after the victory against Kings XI Punjab on Thursday, it’s difficult to bowl to him at the nets.

Like many others in Rajasthan Royals, he also comes from a very modest family that has sacrificed everything for his cricket. His father was a football player and a constable with Delhi police who located to Thiruvananthapuram to help his son pursue his cricketing dream.

“The only thing I wanted, ever since I can remember, is playing cricket,” Sanju said in an interview to a Malayalam channel. According to his coaches, his ability to play the bouncing ball in fact came out of his deprivation. He didn’t have access to turf wickets till two years ago and had been practising on mats, which are bouncy.

His parents shifted from a suburban village to a rented house in Thiruvananthapuram so that he can train under his coaches. Sanju says that he is not scared to play the big shots and has been specially practising to hit over the rope. At such a young age, he is also a symbol of innovation - in his four matches, he was won the awards for innovation twice, one of which was for an “unbelievable” steer of a yorker-length ball right from the middle stump.

According to his team-mates, he is extremely well-focused and hard working — a great example for a small-town underdog who makes it big by sheer dint of talent and hard-work.

There are many more reasons for my obsession with the Royals — the relaxed and poetic elegance of Trinidadian Kevon Cooper with his deceptive speed-games; the Dravidian mastery and commitment of Ajinkya Rahane, the infectious enthusiasm of Dishant Yagnik...

Perhaps more on them when they reach the finals.