The winter morning carried a crispness that made every breath sharp and clear. Ajay walked down the narrow lane toward the old municipal cricket ground, the bat cover hanging from his shoulder like it had in his teenage years. The ground was the same as he remembered—patchy grass, dusty pitch, and the faint smell of sweat and mud mixed with chai from the tea stall near the gate.
But there was one big difference. This time, Ajay was not walking in as a sluggish, overweight player struggling to keep up. His shoulders were broad, his stride purposeful, and his eyes alive with focus.
Under the shade of the neem tree near the boundary rope stood Coach Sharma. He was in his late fifties now, wearing the same white cricket cap and whistle around his neck. His sharp eyes scanned the players in the nets as if they were chess pieces on a board. Ajay remembered those eyes from his first life—they could spot a lazy warm-up or a half-hearted fielding effort from fifty meters away.
When the coach saw Ajay approaching, he tilted his head slightly."Ajay? Is that really you?"
Ajay smiled. "Yes, Coach. Thought I'd drop by."
Coach's gaze swept over him, from the lean muscle in his arms to the clean lines of his jaw. "You've… changed. Didn't you get taller? And where's the belly? You used to hide behind that bat like it was a shield."
Ajay chuckled softly. "Let's just say I've been working on myself."
The Net Session
Coach didn't waste time. "If you've been working, let's see it. Grab your gear."
Ajay padded up quickly. He stepped into the net where a couple of juniors were bowling medium pace. The moment the first ball came down, he let his body take over—front foot planted, bat flowing like water, and the ball slicing through the gap at extra cover. The sound of leather on the middle of the bat was sweet and sharp.
Coach's eyebrows rose. He motioned for a faster bowler to step in. The new bowler pitched one short; Ajay swiveled and pulled it behind square, rolling his wrists to keep it down.
Ball after ball, Ajay found the gaps—on drives, back-foot punches, even delicate late cuts. The juniors outside the net began whispering. They had never seen someone dominate the bowling with such clean control.
The Conversation
When the session ended, Coach waved Ajay over. "You've been hiding this form from me? This isn't the Ajay I remember. This is… sharper. Faster."
Ajay simply said, "I'm not wasting my second chance, Coach."
The older man studied him for a moment, then leaned in slightly. "You have the talent, but that alone won't take you to the national team. These days, selectors look at fitness just as much as runs. They want athletes—fielders who can sprint all day, bowlers who can throw bullets from the deep, batsmen who can turn singles into twos."
Ajay nodded. "That's why I'm working on everything—batting, bowling, fielding, and fitness."
Coach smiled faintly. "Good. Because if you can keep this up, the Ranji spot will come. But don't relax when it does. That's when the real fight begins."
Fielding Drills
Before Ajay could leave, Coach called for a fielding session. The boys spread out across the ground. Ajay joined them, crouched low, eyes on the ball.
One after another, sharp catches came flying his way—off the edge, low near the turf, and even awkward over-the-shoulder ones. His hands moved on instinct, snatching each one clean.
From the boundary, a ball was thrown in. Ajay sprinted, scooped it up in one motion, and hurled it at the single stump at the striker's end. The ball struck flush.
The coach blew his whistle. "That's what I'm talking about! Keep this up and you'll make them notice."
Leaving the Ground
As Ajay packed up to leave, Coach clapped him on the back. "You've got a spark in you, Ajay. I want to see it burn brighter every time you come here. No shortcuts."
Ajay smiled. "No shortcuts, Coach. Not this time."
Walking home, he opened his system panel:
Batting – 65/100Bowling – 25/100Fielding – 12/100Fitness – 15/100
Every number was climbing, but Ajay knew this was still the warm-up. The real challenge—the first club match—was waiting. And this time, he was going to make sure everyone in the city knew his name again.